Adapting

“You will learn to adapt,” were the last words I heard from somebody I actually cared. She forced a smile, hiding back her tears, trying to prevent as if this all is not so terrible. Then, she watched me go, watched me taken to somewhere I didn’t deserve to go. Her eyes were blurry, so were mine.

I did learnt to adapt, I just couldn’t put it on practice. Whenever I heard the guardians shouting “open 37” and hear the creaking sound of the opening door, I filled with utmost disgust if I already wasn’t. Whenever the squeaky-sleepy boy that slept on a bed above mine tried to talk to me, I turned my head to avoid any kind of word from entering my head and forcing me to spill out what I had been gathering for the last month. I couldn’t afford an argument, which was what would have been if I let my thoughts out of my head.

It was one of those hopelessly same days that the disgusting voice that made me hate the number 37 said “Visitor” instead of “open”. I learnt what it meant for somebody’s heart to be filled with pure excitement. It wasn’t happiness, not disappointment, not expectation… It was pure excitement, not for the fact that somebody cared enough about me to come here, to the place, which perhaps didn’t even exist on our city-map, or not for the fact that I was going to be able to get out of this squeaky-smelly room. It was something else. It was excitement…

I thought it was my mother who fainted on the day of my trial or my sister who thought I was going to be able to adapt, but deep down I already figured that it was none. It was somebody else. The blue-uniformed man behind me pushed me forward and led the way from behind me. I raised my head for the first time in the one month duration I had been here and observed what was around me. Squeaky kid in the place I stayed was apparently not so unique after all. The place was circled by his likes. I figured it was not worth the effort, so I just bowed down my head and saved it all for the next ten minutes of my life.

I knew who was visiting me…

That’s why I wasn’t surprised when I saw somebody with an almost real yellow wig and blue lenses put on actually blue eyes. With the mini-dress and matching shoes she wore to look normal, she actually managed to be the opposite of it. But, maybe that was what she intended.

The blue shirt behind me looked at her from head to toe and left us alone for ten minutes.

I didn’t raise my head. I didn’t see the need to do so as she already knew what I was to say. Or, at least what I was supposed to say.

“Are you sure?” she asked and put a fake smile on her face. I couldn’t have been sure of something that I didn’t even remotely want to do.

“For your sister,” she raised her voice a little this time.

“Promise me,” I said. My voice was hoarse for not have spoken for the last thirty days.

“I do,” she said and smiled, “no harm to her”.

I nodded. She reached for my hands as if to grab them and I felt the cold metallic thing that was no bigger than a used eraser. I held onto it and let her hands go away.

“I will be waiting for the news,” she said and smiled. Her smile was shouting her hatred, which she didn’t see a need to hide anymore. I refused to speak and left the visitor room with the same guard right behind me. That time, I had something extra which spread its coldness to my hands. I felt the cutting edge of it and let some blood flow. I squeezed my hand more to prevent the blue T-shirt from seeing it.

I turned back to the room.

I smiled at the squeaky friend; he was what had been most close to a friend in the previous one month. But, I never used to be the friendly type, and there was no time for drama.

I grabbed the metal thing and made my move. Red was the new white.

I learnt to adapt after all.