I have been stuck here in this “school” they call home for 17 years, and 318 days. I’ve never seen the outside world, if there is one. But I’ve heard it's beautiful, the birds, the breeze, the sky. Someday I hope to see it for myself. But for now, I stay in this place we call home, where I’ve lived since the day I was born.
I’ve learned in all my years, to place my napkin in my lap, to always say please and thank you, and to never, under any circumstances, look an instructor in the eyes. This is a school for all girls, of all ages, but somehow I’ve never seen a girl younger than me.
We stay on our floors, mine is 17, and everyone on my floor is 17 years old. If the rumors are true, if we pass all our classes, we will get adopted by floor 18. I am only 47 days away from moving levels, but it feels like eternity.
Now we sit at the table, with our napkins folded perfectly, and our mouths closed as we listen to our instructors critiquing us. The light in the middle of the table turns red, and we all carefully place our silverware at 4:00 on our plate. We step out from the table and push our chairs lightly under the table.
We file out of the room, and all the girls walk to our line outside the lunchroom door. We line up perfectly, everyone faced forward. When we get to the front of the line, we look up at the camera, and when the light turns green, we know they have identified us. We carefully pick up the two cups in front of us, one with water filled halfway, the other with a thick bright blue pill.
I watch as the other girls swallow it, the vitamin to keep us healthy, but as the girls take it, I watch the acne on their faces wash away. I haven’t noticed any redness today, but if there was any, it will be gone any minute.
I choke it down and wait carefully in line, waiting for the rest of the line to finish. When the line is gone, the light turns green and we walk into our dorm room.
“She will fit the criteria perfectly, once she is ready,” instructor 2 whispers.
“Are you sure they aren’t catching on to the real purpose?” Instructor 6 responds. I wonder what they mean, but I hope I am ready soon.
The walls are gray, just as every level before. Every day feels the same, the routine is simple and somehow enjoyable. I walk to my bed and start to feel dreary, 8:00, just as everyday. Everyone seems to fall asleep just at the same time, like somehow they control us.
But before I go to bed, I take the pin out of my hair, and use it to slowly unscrew the panel on the wall behind me. The door pops open, makes a slow creaking sound. I wince and hope none of the girls say anything. I stare at the wall, the talleys seem endless, but just as everyday, I add one. This is the only way I have any way of telling what day it truly is. I’ve been marking the days since level 6.
Every night, it replays in my head, the moment I realized I would never fit in. Sometimes, if we get too out of line, they take us away. Once on floor 15, my old friend Lena was standing next to me in line.
“Almost to floor 16, are you excited?”
“Well of course, we’ve been waiting all year,” I said excitedly.
I turned around and before I could stop myself, my hand hit something hard and I watched Lena’s glasses fly across the hall. I watched her get on her hands and knees crawling around the floor trying to find them. I still don't know why I didn’t help her. I just stood there shocked. I watched in horror as the guards ran into the room and gripped her by her arms. She kicked and screamed but they didn’t let go. She came back the next day with bruises all over, her face and her arms, her back and her shoulders. Her black eye stood out the most. She stared at me while she walked to the breakfast table. She ate her food, but winced with every bite, it burning her bloody lip. Everyone knows the bruises go away once you’ve swallowed your pill, but the pain stays.
She hasn’t talked to me since, and I’ve promised her I didn’t mean to bump them off her face but still, I’ve lost my one and only friend.
I'm alone. No one will talk to me, and for the last 2 and a half years, I've been silent, unless forced to speak. I was never one for making conversation, but I’ve grown very fond of silence. It gives me a place to think, a place to speak to myself in private. I slowly drift away into my dreams but not before I hear the lock on the door click, signifying the end of the night.
When I wake up, the process repeats itself, just as everyday. It is nighttime, time for the lineup. But today I have an idea. We walk up to our lines and I watch as all the other girls gulp down their vitamin pill.
When I step up, I look up at the camera watching my every move, and look back down at the shiny bright blue pill. I put it in my mouth, take a gulp of water, but I don't swallow. I walk over to the bathroom, where there aren't any cameras and lock the stall.
I spit the pill into the toilet and flush before anyone can detect anything suspicious. I unlock the door and walk to the sinks to wash my hands. When I return back to the hallway, the girls are already back in their beds. I walk over, feeling suspiciously energized.
When I hear the lock click, I’m not even the slightest bit tired. A million thoughts rush into my head about what the pills could be doing to us. After about an hour, I hear the lock click and footsteps, as a dark figure walks past my bed.
“Make sure they don't ask too many questions, if they find out too much, it could jeopardize everything.” I hear her mutter under her breath.
“That one, Lena,” I hear the head instructor mumble. I watch as the dark figure grabs my ex-best friend and picks her up effortlessly into his arms. She’s still asleep. I can tell because she doesn’t make a peep as he walks out the door with her.
“Riley too,” I hear, and I gasp for air. “Did you hear something?” I hear the instructor whisper.
“No, they couldn’t be awake,” the guard states confidently.
I hear footsteps creeping toward me. I try my best to keep my breaths steady and even. His cold fingers brush my side as he pulls me over his shoulder. I'm not exactly sure how to pretend to sleep; I’ve never had to before. But, when I watched them grab my best friend, she flopped in his arms. I try my best to do the same. I count his steps, wondering where we are going. 23…56…107…and so on for another few minutes. I count to 536 and finally he comes to a stop.
He places me down on what feels like a table. My eyes are still closed. I wonder if this has happened before while I was asleep. I hear another lock click and voices coming closer.
“Last year’s candidate didn't make it past the first phase, this transition must be seamless, not room for error.” I hear instructor 1 mumble to herself.
More footsteps, and I detect 2 new voices.
“Hmmmm,” I hear a strange voice speaking so close to me I wonder if she is speaking to me. “This one has acne,” I hear the strange voice say.
My skin must be full of it from spitting that pill out. “It will go away. She has great skin. One of the best actually.” I wonder what my skin has to do with anything. I'm almost sure these are people looking to adopt a daughter. But then I hear something. A comment that will change everything.
“Well, if she has the best skin, we'll take it.”
What does she mean? Take me? Take my skin? Suddenly nothing is making sense and my thoughts race around my head.
“Wonderful, we will do the skin removal process as soon as she turns 18.” Skin removal. She’s joking right?
“That means you should be able to come very soon to get yours replaced.”
“This is great honey,” I hear what seems to be her husband speaking. “Young forever!”
I have to escape.
