This Room I'm In

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A different point of view.

Submitted: September 03, 2012

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Submitted: September 03, 2012

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There's not much space, in this room I'm in.

It's dark and a little tight, but not uncomfortable. It's just a little cramped here because there are others with me. But it is warm and we have plenty to eat.

I don't know how I came to be here. I can't remember. I don't think the others know either. We just are.

But I know we will be let out eventually. We hear them talking outside.

They don't think we can hear them, but we can. We don't understand everything, though. It's a new language and sometimes the voices are muffled. But we hear them.

Sometimes they scare me. They sound angry and I can tell they don't like us. Or at least, not all of us.

"Too many," they say. "Dangerous."

I wonder what they mean. I am not dangerous and I don't think the others are either. We're just here, waiting. Waiting to be let out.

One of them talks to us through the wall sometimes. She sounds nice, but I know she is worried too. She isn't sure if we are dangerous like the others say.

They don't seem to agree very much. We hear them arguing about some of us and I hope they don't mean me.

They say there's a better chance with less of us and want to eliminate the ones that will be the most trouble. The ones who will have less of a chance.

The ones who are a threat, whatever that means.

I can't figure out who they mean though. I think we are all the same.

We can't see each other, since it's dark, but we all feel the same. We communicate the same way and we wonder what they mean.

Yet at the same time, we are scared to find out.

A little time passes and we become friends. We comfort one another, when we are scared, and promise to always stick together.

One terrible day, someone has made a decision, and we are being attacked.

I wait for the pain, the others are feeling. My friends who I've grown to love.

They cry and beg for it to stop, trying to get away. But there is nowhere to go, and no one outside seems to hear their cries.

Or maybe they just don't care.

I want it to stop too, but I don't know what to do. I still can't see and I don't know what is hurting them. I cry because I feel so helpless and because I fear I might be next.

I wonder where the one that would talk to us, is. Surely, she doesn't want this!

After a long time, their cries stop and they've stopped moving.

I wait for the same horrible attack, but it never comes.

Instead, the others, dead now, are taken away, allowing more room for me and the one other survivor left in the room with me.

We cling together and grieve for our beloved friends who were not so lucky.

I wonder what they did to deserve such horrible treatment. Why them and not us?

Or maybe our time is coming. I wait in fear for what might come and I know the only friend I have left feels the same.

We wait for a while, but nothing comes.

Everything changes though. There are no more angry people outside the wall. Only happy ones.

Now I'm angry, and I wonder how they can be happy when my friends are dead. But they don't seem to miss them out there.

I'm scared to go out there now. How terrible must it be when people are happy after something as awful as that happens? And for no reason! They weren't bad. They weren't dangerous.

They were just like me!

But I know I am not safe in here either. It seems to be a very dangerous place, this room.

The woman talks to us much more now and she doesn't sound worried anymore. Did she know what happened? Did she want my friends to die?

I don't want to believe she did, because I can't help but like her. She tells us she and our Daddy love us.

I don't know who she means until he starts talking to us one day. He seems nice too and I'm glad they seem to like us. I start to feel safe when I know they are near.

I wonder where they were when our friends were murdered.

I feel sure it wouldn't have happened, had they been there. They would have stopped it when they heard their cries.

More time goes by and I've learned that the woman is our Mommy. She says we will be born any day now and that she can't wait to see us. And that she loves us. Always, that she loves us.

I wonder if she knows our friends are dead. Can she tell there are less of us in here? Will she mourn for them the way I do?

I think she must not know. How could she and still be so happy?

I feel sad for when she will find out. I am sure she would have loved them just like she loves me and my friend.

I'm sorry, Mommy. I'm sorry I couldn't help them. I'm sorry I couldn't stop my friends from being murdered.


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