My name is Katelyn Flaherty, Kate. I'm 15 years old from California and I'm one of the lucky ones. I'm one of the survivors of the crash of flight 815. If you can call this surviving.
The night we crashed on this island, they came. They dragged me through the jungle to an underground bunker and threw me into this cell. The first few days (because that's what they felt like) I couldn't even see my own feet it was so dark. I found the toilet was to my left and that when they threw their horribly generic food at me, some spilled over onto my outstretched feet. I learned that at the end of the hall, if you turned to the right, there was a large room where several people asked you odd questions from behind a 2-way mirror every few days (or whatever they were). I learned by listening, which had all but taken over my sight, that there were more children here, also being questioned.
And so here I am, writing on the paper they leave with the food with the wrong end of a spoon. For 6 weeks I sat here, waiting for something to happen...