Chapter 1 –Again

I sit up. Look around. I see nothing, again.

What did I expect? It was pitch black. What was the point of looking around? I didn't need light to see this place. Tomorrow morning I would get up and see it in the light, again. It would be the same as always. A square room, chamber really, beds line the walls, headboard to footboard; the beds stopping only to let the door squeeze in. Stone walls. Plain white covers on plain brown wooden beds.

Maybe tomorrow I won't get up; I'll just lay here and stare at the plain, grey, stone ceiling. But no, I would get up, again. Put on the plain brown breeches and plain brown tunic, again. Why? The answer is simple. I wanted breakfast. They don't abuse you here, but they expect you to work for everything. You want breakfast? Get up and jog the mile to the lovely breakfast they prepared.

I stare at the bed across from mine. I still can't see it, but I know it's there. I can fell the empty bed staring back at me—silliness of course—but it seems to blame me for the changes in the realm that mean it lies empty, no longer a coveted place at The Finishing School. I look around the room, again.

I don't know why I do this, sit up at night when the world is sleeping. I don't know why I continue to stare around the room; I never see anything. It's pitch black. It always is.

I'm tired. Of course I am. How could I not be? I was woken up near dawn yesterday and the day before, and ever since I got here. Why I continue to sit here on my bed instead of just laying down and letting sleep consume me, I don't know.

So I sit here in the dark, thinking disjointed thoughts, wondering if I could someday soon be one of the lucky few to leave this place and never come back. Wondering of I want to leave. I wish sleep would come and claim me, but I'm too tired to sleep.

My thoughts are muddled. Jumping from one thought to the next without pausing to think if I've finished the previous one. Maybe tomorrow won't be more of the same. Maybe tomorrow someone will come and chose me and I can leave. Out of the fire and into the frying pan. Maybe tomorrow will be more of the same, again. I'll get up again, do as I'm told again, be disappointed again, die again.

I smile. They wouldn't let you die. It's against the rules. Not that I want to. I still hold a vain hope of some twist of fate happening to me and setting me free of the cage I was born into. I smile. For some reason the thought of being born into a cage amuses me. Everyone is born into a cage, each one a different size and shape. Why can't I switch with someone else?

I decide I've had my fill of midnight wonderings. Time to sleep. I hold on to my vain hope that tomorrow will look different form the other side of it, again.

AaAaAaAaAa

A/N: well, what do you think? Did you hate it? Love it? Wish to kill me for clogging the net with more crap than it already has?

Ok, I know it's really disjointed and has no flow. Part of that is me writing this out on paper a quarter of the size of normal paper. The rest of it is how flowing would you be at midnight if you were too tired to sleep?

Ok, it's time for a review, I don't care if it's just "I read your story" I just want to know if someone actually read this, flame me if you want to. Just so long as you read and review. Please?