We Live in Glass Houses

Chapter One

10:15, tick. My eyes are pinned to the clock. I hear the subtle "tick, tick, tick" of the second hand. My heart beats just as fast. From the outside, it probably looks like I'm waiting for a bomb to go off. 10:16, tick.

One more minute. My fingers start to fiddle with my hoodie's zipper. This is the longest minute of the whole damn day.

Tick, 10:17, finally. I race to the closet door and open it. On my tiptoes, I run my hand across the top of the dresser inside. Hidden beneath the shirts and jackets, I find what I am looking for.

I grab it and hold it close, the cool film against my warm face. I know I only have seconds before it must hide away again.

The photograph is black and white and shows two young children, a boy and a girl smiling toothy smiles. A man has his arm around the boy's shoulder. His smile is more hidden, faded somehow, but he still looks content. Beside him is a woman who is not looking at the camera, but instead grins at the two young children. I assume this is a family, from what I've read in books. I can imagine them going to the park for a picnic, ants gathering around the food. Or the parents taking the kids to the movies and buying them a huge bucket of buttery popcorn to share.

I have just twelve more ticks before I have to put the photo back. I reach once more into the closet and place it underneath the clothes. So far, this is the best hiding place I have found. I shut the closet door and scramble back onto my bed, sitting still as if I hadn't moved.

I found the picture around three years ago. I was reading The Giver and tucked away between the pages was the small picture. The black and white photograph, fitting considering The Giver's premise, was too unique not to keep a hold of. I quickly slipped it into my pocket and prayed nobody saw.

But they are always watching. Even now, I worry that they are just waiting for the opportunity to take it, some time when it will crush me the most. They like to see us in pain.

When I look back at the clock, it is 10:20. Time for breakfast. I wait to hear the click of the door unlock. As soon as it does, I make my way down the hallway, running into my usual neighbors, Gabriel and Micah.

"Good morning Rose." Both of them mutter as they do every morning. I don't even bother saying it back. We head down to the cafeteria where we meet the rest of our group. There are eight of us on this side of the facility and ten on the other side, though we've never encountered them.

Sitting at the table are Kathryn and Maude who are always together. They both sit quietly, Maude chewing her fingernails and Kathryn staring blankly at a wall. She tells everyone she's an insomniac, although I don't know who isn't in here. Benjamin sits next to me. He's the most talkative of us. He reads a lot, even more than I do, so he is constantly updating us on the best reads. Lastly, is Harris. He is late to everything, which makes the Facilitators very angry. Harris is the only one who has seen a Facilitator's face. Last month his name was called over the loudspeaker and he was sent to the courtyard while we were locked in our rooms.

I would love to ask him questions about what he saw that day, but like I said they are always watching. The whole place is bugged, loaded with cameras and there are tons of Facilitators on duty to watch our every move. Getting dressed in the morning, having conversations with each other, even using the bathroom. Privacy is not something we are allowed to have.

Fortunately for us, we don't know anything different. I have been here as long as I can remember. Sometimes I wonder if I was even born here.