Iris

When I woke up with no memory of how I got here and nothing but a notebook, pen, and a large lump on the back of my head, I thought for sure someone would’ve let me out eventually. I thought maybe someone would at least be looking for me. My parents maybe, my aunt Nora or uncle Bryan. But two-thousand two-hundred and eighty-six days later… I’m still here. That would be six years, three months and six days to put it in plainly. I’ve been alone. The only signs of life I’ve gotten is someone will slide a fresh pair of clothes through the slot under the stark white metal door every morning, a new set of sheets once a week and a food tray three times a day. I guess they want to keep me captive, not dead. After every dinner, I always jot down a tally in my notebook just to keep track of the days. I know its dinner because I don’t get another meal for approximately 12 hours after that while the others are split between four or five hours. I’ve calculated to the best of my abilities but I'm not sure how long I was here before I started taking count.

There was a large, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, window directly in front of my bed. It's not as impressive as I’m making it sound considering the room I’m in is so small, I can barely walk a full 15 feet from one wall to the other.

The window was the second clue that I wasn’t alone. It gave the view of a meadow that looked out on miles of green leafy trees on either side with the occasional glimpse of wildlife scampering through the forest. After a couple of hours of pure panicking and begging to be let out, I calmed down enough to realize that the image outside the window stayed the same as when I woke up even though it had to have been hours later. The sun stayed shining high in the sky, it never changed positions. It never got dark either.

I went up to the glass and the closer I got, the blurrier the image became. The image was pixelized. It was a holographic window. You can change the scenery whenever you like, with whatever you want. I leaned my head on the cool glass and cried for what seemed like days.

I think this is their way of cheering me up, giving me something pretty to look at while I stay in captivity.

Well, it got old quick

I stare out the window and watch the reoccurring image play the same thing everyday. It was either that or stare at the ceiling. At least the window was relatively interesting to look at though it felt like it was mocking me somehow. Occasionally my captor will add something new to the image to keep up the pretense of being an actual window opposed to what it really is. Last time, the added a mare galloping across the meadow, back and forth every couple minutes or so.

I heard a creak and looked over at the door just as I saw the dinner tray slide through the slot. Roast beef with mashed potatoes and broccoli. The smell was overwhelmingly delicious. They feed me well, I’ll give them that. I grabbed my notebook and drew another tally on the top of the last page of my notebook. I’m sure they didn’t put it in here for this purpose, but it helps me cope with the prospect of never seeing actual sunlight ever again. By my calculations, it should be nearing my 24th birthday if it hadn’t already passed.

I threw my overgrown hair over my shoulder and tied it in a knot at the base of my neck to keep it out of my face. As I crawled off the middle of my twin bed, I heard a new sound. A sound I haven’t heard in over 6 years.

I paused in the action of picking up my tray and stilled myself. I was too scared to breathe as I concentrated. I looked over at the window and realized it was coming from behind the glass. Behind the constant hologram that’s haunted my waking nightmare.

I dropped my tray to the ground, mashed potatoes splattering the door and the pristine white comforter that’s more of a cream color now after years of use. I ran to the window and pressed my ear to the glass, listening closely. I watched the image of squirrels jumping from tree to tree and gathering nuts, watched as a doe ran after her fawn. I closed my eyes and listened close.

Through the artificial tweets of Blue Jays and a soft breeze rustling the trees, I heard it. It was faint but I heard it.

I heard rain pelting against the window. I closed my eyes and imagined the wetness against my skin. Soaking my blonde locks as I run my slender fingers through it. The chill that would run through my bones as it saturated my skin. I imagined myself dropping to the grass and laying there for hours.

Through my daydream, I heard another new noise. One that I thought I would never hear.

I looked at the door, the one that’s held me captive, and heard the locks disengage. It slowly slid open until the handle hit the wall. As it did, I notice something silver on a chain hanging off the door.

I tore my eyes away from the piece of jewelry hanging from the knob and noticed that down the hallway, there were a minimum of three dozen doors. Identical in almost every way to my own besides the different names on each of the plaques stapled to the doors. In neat handwriting, mine read Nina.

It was strange seeing my name written down like that after being alone for so long. I thought I was the only one. But as people my age started to wonder out of their respective rooms, I’ve come to the realization that I’m not.

I walk to the door and pick up the sliver locket hanging off the door and hold it in my clammy hands, looking around at all the faces that look just as confused as I feel. I open the locket, on one side is a tiny picture of my parents, laughing at some sort of inside joke that I’ll never be able to hear, looking up into each other’s eyes with love and amusement. On the other side, written in the same handwriting as my name on the plaque are two words: Forgive us.

White noise filled the hallway as a computerized voice came over an invisible intercom, “Congratulations. You’ve all been set free. Use your freedom wisely. Hopefully you can do better than the generation that came before you.” As quickly as it came on, it cut off again and another lock disengaged at the far end of the hallway, opening to the outside world that I have desperately craved to be apart. I didn’t wait for anyone else and didn’t bother looking to see if anyone followed behind me before I bolted for that open door, not waiting a second longer to bury my fingers in the soft blades of grass and breathe in the fresh air.

I halted in my tracks in the doorway and looked out in disbelief and horror. Someone slammed into the back of me, pushing me out and into the rain and mud on the front stoop of our prison.

This is not what I imagined the outside would be like, the trees lining the meadow that I’ve looked out on are black and sparse of leaves. The meadow itself was barren and nothing but dirt with animal carcasses sticking up in disarray through the ground. Old and rotting garbage littered the ground like someone hasn't been here in ages. What happened here?

I looked behind me and noticed there were other buildings identical to the one I’ve been held in. That the lot of us have been held in. I counted 12 in the front row but noticed there were more building behind this one. Out of each building, boys and girls my age and younger spilled out onto the front lawn, looking just as confused as I feel looking around at the dead things surrounding us.

With tears of disappointment and bewilderment in my eyes, I looked back behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something green. The only green I can see in a realm where only darkness and chaos lived.

Walking over to it and bending down to take a better look, an iris just starting to bloom raised its face to the darkened clouds.