Marked

When they had laid our all their rules and sufficiently scared one girl into cracking, they left us alone in the large plain room. Off to, as they put it, instruct the younger kids in their own "classroom".

The room was as large as a soccer field and only half-filled with teenagers. We milled around, wondering about cameras, wincing at the pains in our necks and trying our hardest not to make friends. Still, we were, as teenagers do, grouping.

Is it instinct that makes human kind form alliances? Whether it was safe in this environment or not, it was what we were doing. Groups formed without words, with as little interaction as possible and yet they formed. I found myself standing by the left wall as inconspicuously people joined me. With each there was only eye contact and a subtle turning of the head so as to let the other see your tattoo. They were our names, these tattoos. So I'll call them, for lack of better of better names, Sunwing, Sunstone, Moonrod, Sunbolt, Moonstar and Moonflower.