Ch.5: 3 Days of Hell
Omi,
I haven't been able to find my diary for 3 days now, but I guess there isn't much I
can say. When you read this, I don't think you need any reminding what happened these past
3 days. It was the complete opposite of the first 3 days. It has been at least 2 weeks
since I came here, but so much has happened. The word spread, even to Them (still now, I
loathe to capitalize their names), but they didn't do anything about it. We are holding
rebellion meetings. This school is not run right. Not that it can't be unique or already
isn't, but the thing is, it is wrong. Plain wrong. There is a rule that states quite
clearly that a Claimer cannot make out with a Claimed during class, whether or not it is his
Claim or not, but that is never the case. When that same situation happens, the class
turns to wreak havoc instead of study. The only thing a teacher can do is hide under the
desk. But I hate the teachers too. They will have to change the grading system, or else
parents will complain. At least, the parents that actually have children here and are
gullible enough to send them here. We and our followers have been attacked at every period,
and some just plain stay in their dorm rooms and wait till class is in session, and hold
walkie-talkies that we demanded from the teachers. When a casualty is sprouting in a
classroom, they rush to help, leaving an able amount behind to take care of any others. The
infirmary is always full, but I am proud to say that there are more of Their Claimed than
us.
I will transfer the contents of this paper to this diary later. It is silent in the
room, except for the occasional page turning by you as you read my past diaries, and the
frantic scribbling of my pen. Well, and maybe one last noise: the ticking of the alarm
clock. Nothing else though. The lamp shines a pool of light, spilling gold over you. The
halo around your head makes you look so calm, and for once a peace settles inside of me.
Your face is solemn, but your eyes show an eagerness, a hunger for more knowledge, perhaps
about me and my life. As you turn the page, a smile uplifts the corners of your mouth, and
I am left with a fast-beating heart and breathless. No, I am in love, no question about it,
I tell myself. I am so in love that I can barely hide it. As much as it seems impossible,
but I've fallen in love with you, Omi. Inevitably fallen in love. You'll be reading this
soon, but I won't stop you. I'll be far away by then, somewhere you can't follow me, and
you won't be able to throttle me to death with your darts, your crossbow, your longbow, or
your smile.
But for the last 3 days they have staged attack after attack. Contrary to that
morning diary entry that seems so far away, it has been anything but chaos. The boys
rounded up on you for another attack, making you cry out for help. One of Mikhail's Claims,
from the infirmary, hobbled up to my door and gasped out the news, and it was only then
that I came running to save you. IT is so strange now. I can say that word without
flinching. Claimed, I mean.
I will let you go free into the world, Omi. Free from constraint, free from this
damn school, free from me. But not until I get you out of here. Never until I get you out
of this hellhole and back into the ranks of the Wei?. You will be safe and sheltered there,
I am sure of it.
There comes a knock on the door. After a few seconds, it opens. You do not look up
from your reading, ut your eyes have ceased their roaming on the white page. You are
listening. As I write this I greet the intruder. 'Hello, Mikhail", I say in English. You
look up, and your face is relaxed. I don't know what he wants, but his face is blank, not
tense or relaxed like yours, but apprehension clouds his features. It is a chilling look in
his eyes, those electrifyingly light blue eyes. Something is coming, and it is closer
still, strangely thrilling and exciting, with a tinge of dread. Scary, now I am talking
like this. But that feeling is there, in the air, suffocating, and suffocating all of us.
You. Me. All of us, us rebels against the government, they have been brewing for a stand
now. And it has come. The suffocating air, suffocating you, is all I can think of. I hope
it will not kill you.
Omi, I think I'm afraid.
Nagi Naoe
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
Well, I guess I lied. I just typed this up quicklike, because I already had it
written, just on paper. Didn't take as long as I expected, so I'll just let you have it.
NOW I will study for the finals. Or not. You chose, but sorry this chapter is so short.
That's it.
Andrea Weiling
Omi,
I haven't been able to find my diary for 3 days now, but I guess there isn't much I
can say. When you read this, I don't think you need any reminding what happened these past
3 days. It was the complete opposite of the first 3 days. It has been at least 2 weeks
since I came here, but so much has happened. The word spread, even to Them (still now, I
loathe to capitalize their names), but they didn't do anything about it. We are holding
rebellion meetings. This school is not run right. Not that it can't be unique or already
isn't, but the thing is, it is wrong. Plain wrong. There is a rule that states quite
clearly that a Claimer cannot make out with a Claimed during class, whether or not it is his
Claim or not, but that is never the case. When that same situation happens, the class
turns to wreak havoc instead of study. The only thing a teacher can do is hide under the
desk. But I hate the teachers too. They will have to change the grading system, or else
parents will complain. At least, the parents that actually have children here and are
gullible enough to send them here. We and our followers have been attacked at every period,
and some just plain stay in their dorm rooms and wait till class is in session, and hold
walkie-talkies that we demanded from the teachers. When a casualty is sprouting in a
classroom, they rush to help, leaving an able amount behind to take care of any others. The
infirmary is always full, but I am proud to say that there are more of Their Claimed than
us.
I will transfer the contents of this paper to this diary later. It is silent in the
room, except for the occasional page turning by you as you read my past diaries, and the
frantic scribbling of my pen. Well, and maybe one last noise: the ticking of the alarm
clock. Nothing else though. The lamp shines a pool of light, spilling gold over you. The
halo around your head makes you look so calm, and for once a peace settles inside of me.
Your face is solemn, but your eyes show an eagerness, a hunger for more knowledge, perhaps
about me and my life. As you turn the page, a smile uplifts the corners of your mouth, and
I am left with a fast-beating heart and breathless. No, I am in love, no question about it,
I tell myself. I am so in love that I can barely hide it. As much as it seems impossible,
but I've fallen in love with you, Omi. Inevitably fallen in love. You'll be reading this
soon, but I won't stop you. I'll be far away by then, somewhere you can't follow me, and
you won't be able to throttle me to death with your darts, your crossbow, your longbow, or
your smile.
But for the last 3 days they have staged attack after attack. Contrary to that
morning diary entry that seems so far away, it has been anything but chaos. The boys
rounded up on you for another attack, making you cry out for help. One of Mikhail's Claims,
from the infirmary, hobbled up to my door and gasped out the news, and it was only then
that I came running to save you. IT is so strange now. I can say that word without
flinching. Claimed, I mean.
I will let you go free into the world, Omi. Free from constraint, free from this
damn school, free from me. But not until I get you out of here. Never until I get you out
of this hellhole and back into the ranks of the Wei?. You will be safe and sheltered there,
I am sure of it.
There comes a knock on the door. After a few seconds, it opens. You do not look up
from your reading, ut your eyes have ceased their roaming on the white page. You are
listening. As I write this I greet the intruder. 'Hello, Mikhail", I say in English. You
look up, and your face is relaxed. I don't know what he wants, but his face is blank, not
tense or relaxed like yours, but apprehension clouds his features. It is a chilling look in
his eyes, those electrifyingly light blue eyes. Something is coming, and it is closer
still, strangely thrilling and exciting, with a tinge of dread. Scary, now I am talking
like this. But that feeling is there, in the air, suffocating, and suffocating all of us.
You. Me. All of us, us rebels against the government, they have been brewing for a stand
now. And it has come. The suffocating air, suffocating you, is all I can think of. I hope
it will not kill you.
Omi, I think I'm afraid.
Nagi Naoe
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
Well, I guess I lied. I just typed this up quicklike, because I already had it
written, just on paper. Didn't take as long as I expected, so I'll just let you have it.
NOW I will study for the finals. Or not. You chose, but sorry this chapter is so short.
That's it.
Andrea Weiling
