I wake up to a gray sky. It seems foreboding and reminds me of the time I had spent on the island. At least I think it is the sky, until I notice the fact that I am looking at the ceiling of my prison cell.
I sit up, trying to make sense of my surroundings. I have been sleeping on a small and hard bed, which is located next to the wall. The room itself is boring, though at the same time imposing: a perfect cube of cold, hard concrete. Then everything that happened after the navy docked at our Island comes back to me.
Back then the government had decided to open up a program, hoping to integrate us into society again.