Cherry tucked her feet under her as she sat in the folding chair. The metal was cold against her skin, sending a shiver up her spine.
"Does anyone else's skin color change?" she asked, as all the people in white formed a circle with the chairs. She got a few weird looks from the others, but Columbine piped in.
"You mean the bruises from needles or beatings?" he smiled, "I get plenty of those." Cherry didn't quite understand his humor, but she still gave him a small grin. Rose took her place next to Cherry, twirling her fingers in Cherry's light hair.
"Something on your mind, sugar?" A woman named Daisy asked. Cherry knew she had to be careful, because they were always being watched. She'd have to risk it.
"Kinda. I'm just curious about why we are all separated, or categorized, by color. Does it mean anything?" That statement earned her a few skeptical looks. Columbine looked very stern, but concerned.
"That kind of curiosity will get you hurt, girl." Cherry cringed at his sharp tone, but knew he was probably right. Rose laid a soft hand on her shoulder.
"It probably would be best if you didn't go further into this," she avoided eye contact as she mumbled. Cherry bit her lower lip and stared at the floor. The subject was quickly changed to some other nonsense. She didn't care to listen at the moment. Or any moment.
Cherry picked at a loose string on her shorts. Her number an ever present reminder of where she was, and how something was wrong with her enough that she was here. She flopped back on her mattress and closed her eyes. Rubbing her eyebrows, she attempted to solve the puzzle that is her life.
Why is it so wrong to question anything?