War of Praisers

Chapter 4:

My eyes open to the bright light already alight in my room and I pick up the sound of a reasonable high pitched beeping coming from my clock. I grogely push my tired body up into a sitting position and squint at the clock on the opposite wall. The dark red digits show the familiar time, 5:55. As the clock number changes to 5:56 the pitched beeping stops, and instead is the expected silence taking its place. I rip the thin white sheets off my warm body, immediately wanting to throw them back over me again, and I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. My feet feel numb on the cold floor. I trot over to my cupboard with the mirror and open it without looking at my own reflection. I pull out another annoying white suit with three quarter length for the arms and legs. Once it's on my slim body I look into the mirror of the closed cupboard. The material around my neck has a slight V shape. My hair looks black against the white material as it hangs loosely down my back, reaching my mid back. How much I wish I could cut it, even just a bit. I hate the long hair. Shorter hair would be so much sufficient, like the boys haircuts. Everyone has long hair here, well, at least all the girls do. My hair barely covers my number on my shoulder sleeves and I'm sure it covers the number fully on my back. That wretched number, 926. That's not my name. I'm so tired of having to remind myself for no reason. I know my name. I've earned it and everyone else knows it. We're all in the same situation, and yet I feel as if I am the only one who is treated unfairly with this matter. Maybe it's because of the fact that I have been here much longer than any of them have, I am one of the eldest. I don't know. I have been here so much longer than anyone and yet, still people get chosen before I do. By their schooling they give us all hope and longing for a chance to get out. Our only chance is to get bought, and even then we'd still not be free. We will always be slaves. That thought rises unbelievable rage in me and I try my hardest to supress it. It's not easy but I manage. Instead it is replaced with the all too familiar sadness. I grab my silver brush from the other cupboard and fight through my stubborn knots in my hair. I take the white hairband from the handle of the brush and skilfully wrap it into a bun. My eyes dart to the clock and it shows that it's 6:07. The door opens in three minutes. I grab the fitting white ankle high boots with the orange outlining and slip them on while being distracted by my unsettling emotions and thoughts.

What is wrong with me? I feel such unexplainable sadness and nervousness. I think I know what it may be. The trial. Gloria had said that she believes by her so called calculation that I might be the one to go next. I know I shouldn't exactly count on any calculations from anyone of the subject of who is getting out. Let alone Gloria. This isn't her chosen subject. Don't get me wrong it's not her fault. She has been taught not to be the most brightest and to have an innocent mind. But she's not stupid.

The doors slide open with an almost silent whooshing sound.

I walk out of the room and barely avoid another figure walking into to me. I shoot that person an impatient stare and he lowers his head in fear and quickly turns to escape my glare. At this moment I don't care of what the others may think of me at the present moment. I follow the rest of the orange companions. Only after a few seconds I hear a shout from behind me. I turn to see Mike speed walking towards me, because of his long legs he catches up fairly quickly.

"Hey. Jade. Wait up."

I slow down because we are not allowed to run in these halls and I do want him to catch up to me quickly. I can't help to feel an unexplainable joy as he says my name. Jade. My given name from the many people commenting on my jade coloured eyes. Then that leading to me actually getting Jade as my name. I don't remember when I actually got my name, I'm just happy I did. It's very rare that anyone didn't get a name. No one likes to call anyone a number. All except for the Keepers, but they don't count.