Experiment 00 By Emily Squires Grade 8 Mind racing, heart pounding in her chest, the girl ran to keep up with her friends. Six teenagers, all around the age of thirteen, ran as fast as they could down the burning hot sand toward the cool release of the ocean waves. The tall boy with curly brown hair made it first, the girl with the long black hair right behind him. The shortest boy stopped at the edge of the water, hesitating, until the blonde haired girl dove under a wave. He ran into the water at the same time as the blonde haired boy, who smirked before diving under the cool water. The girl dove in last, not running fast enough to beat the others. The blonde boy smiled and waited for her. They swam to catch up with the others, wading their way deeper into the water. The boy with the brown hair recklessly dove under waves, trying to impress the others, but not succeeding. The girl with the black hair laughed and told him that the lifeguards would think he was drowning if he kept diving that way. “The lifeguards know me Skye, they won’t think I’m dead. Carter and I came here everyday last summer, right Carter?” He glanced at the blonde boy. “Sure, but honestly James, you're not impressing anyone,” Carter replied, laughing as he dove under the water and tumbled back to the surface. “See, even I can do that.” Everyone but James, who frowned at Carter’s clever remark, laughed until the next wave came for them to dive under. It went on like this until the water was ice cold and the teens were forced out by the setting sun. The girl stepped out last, her brown hair curled by the salt, and lightened by the sun. The black haired girl turned around to wait for her. They walked up the now much cooler sand, and waved goodbye to the others. It had been a spectacular day, one of my best. It was also my last. I woke up in the white room, out of breath. The white walls, the deadly silence, the racing heart. The same as everyday. The same dream. The same names. The same memory. Repeating for three years. I couldn’t breathe. The pink hospital gown that was as uncomfortable as wearing paper scratched at my thigh, and I struggled against the ties around my wrists too fix it. I tried screaming. That got them to come last time. No sound. Not even a whisper came from my dry, cracked lips. Three years. Three years of a prison made only for the suffering of my mind. The only people who came to see me were the stern men who came to feed me, the lady who would cuff me and drag me to the washing room, and Dr. Nox. hadn’t seen my family in years. The doctor told me they wouldn’t come, that I had no family. I believed him, for if I had a family they would have come by now. If I had a family they wouldn’t have subjected me to this torture.
Literary Art Magazine Pierson Middle School Sag Harbor, New York May 13, 2019