Chains
When people say that time flies by quickly, they’re lying. It doesn’t. In fact if it was my choice, I’d make days a lot shorter. Because here, time flies by slowly. Here, wrapped in chains, time is never on our side.
Chains. Unbreakable, unbearable. They’re tied around our wrists and ankles, keeping us glued to the wired fence we’re forever stuck to. Or at least that’s what most of us believe.
We don’t know much. Only that there are four of us, and that we’re lab rats in a cruel experiment. Scientists are trying to figure out how long we can survive without food. After the Great Uprise, when the farmers refused to work and crops refused to grow, humans are a rarity. Over half of us died of hunger. Now, scientists are trying to find a way to survive without food. They test us, inject stuff into us.
We don’t know if they are getting anywhere or if they got any positive results. They don’t tell us. All we know is that today is day eleven, and there used to be five of us.
Why they chose to observe us chained to a wired fence outside their building, I don’t know. It’s something to do with how the new air adds nutrients to our body or something. But we have been here for so long, it’s becoming normal. You wake up, you’re chained to a wired fence in a field. You got to sleep, you’re chained to a wired fence in a field. It’s horrid without any food.
At least this experiment has a plus. Every single evening, when the sun goes down, the entire field is lit on golden fire as the sunlight paints the grass. It’s really beautiful. All four of us watch in awe, but only until the sun’s fully gone and the moon comes up. Only until we realize how uncomfortable tonight will be with the fresh bruises on our hands. How uncomfortable it is to sleep whilst chained.
Chains. I hate them. They’re rough and metal and thick. Unbreakable, unbearable. Cutting through your flesh when you try to escape. At least now we know there is no way out, after so many attempts, so tomorrow won’t be as painful. Sometimes giving up is the strong thing.