Gray

Gray

Gray

Gray

I used to despise the color yellow

Gray

Gray

I never gave the color gray a second thought

Gray

Gray

God I'm going insane...

Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. Everything was blurry and unfocused. I felt like a zombie.

The last time I saw my mother she was in a hospital giving vaccinations to "cure" (also known as brainwash) those "lucky" ones over eighteen years of age. The last time I saw my father he was dressed in a gray police uniform dragging the lifeless body of someone who had disobeyed the new government's rules.

Neither of them remotely remembered me.

My new family was a ten year old boy named Adam who made my life more of a hell than it already was, and two brainwashed adults that were meant to be our parents.

I was supposed to forget my identity and accept the life that was now mine. I was no longer Grace Christopher. I was Theresa Jones.

There was one flaw in their precious plan.

I sat on a bench in the factory where I worked. My job was to mend ripped or damaged gray clothing, which meant I had access to lots of sewing thread, needles, and fabric.

I had successfully sewn a pocket hidden on the inside of my pants, complete with velcro, where I kept my iPod. Luckily the fabric was thick a person couldn't see where my iPod was inside my clothing. I had also sewn a pocket on my gray bag to keep a charger so I could charge my iPod and continue to listen to it.

It was reassuring to have something I loved from my old life. It was the only thing that kept me from insanity.

I got off my shift from work and headed back to my apartment across the street. The sky was getting dark.

I could a couple of stars peeking out from the darkness. Even with all the light pollution there were still stars, still proof that the universe hadn't gone completely insane.

As I walked down the sidewalk I tripped and cursed as I hit the pavement, skinning my knee.

I got back up and continued to walk back to the apartment. Wanting to avoid the rest of my fake family I climbed the fire escape up the ten floors to my room.

I pulled out a newspaper I had gotten for free from a government-brainwashed lady.

I turned it to a page.

Congratulations to our police force for capturing the following dangerous rebels! The paper read. A group of names I did not recognize were on it.

I silently said a prayer for those people even though I don't take part in religion and closed the papers.

The sky was now pitch black and more stars popped out. I leaned into the wall of my room that connected to my "parent's" bedroom and listened.

Snoring. They were asleep.

If they caught me with my iPod I would die. No question about it. Music of any kind was strictly forbidden and punishable by death. I hesitated as I put my earphones in my ears and turned up the volume.

I smiled and sang along to "Unbroken" by Black Veil Brides, then caught myself singing and shut my mouth. That was a close one.

I laid down on my bed. My birthday was in two days. I'd be sixteen. A year closer to the dreaded vaccination I'd seen take away the sanity of so many people. I shuddered and pulled the covers over my head.

I should be crying but I couldn't. My tears were all gone from so much sobbing. The first few weeks I cried and cried and cried and refused to do anything my fake parents said. After they had slapped me a couple times I learned to keep my mouth shut and stay in the shadows of everyone else. Attention was not good in a society that will kill you if you step a toe out of line. I rarely talked to anyone unless I had to.

"If we stand together we will be Unbroken," I whispered before I drifted off to sleep.

Notes

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