Day 0:
I am required by my facilitators to write in this diary as a means to alleviate some mental stress. They told me to give my name, designation, and date of birth. My name is ███ ███████, I am designated as no.963, and my date of birth is January 21st, 2515? I apologize, I don’t know the exact year. However, I do know I am 11 years old. As this is the only diary entry that will be checked, I will most likely not be writing in this anymore. So, to the facilitator that reads this…..feel free to take it when you have checked this entry.
Day 18:
It has been over two weeks since I wrote my last entry. My facilitators refused to take the diary, telling me to use it when I needed to vent some stress. After pretending to write in it, and confirming they had no interest in the diary, I’ve decided to use this as a way to record my time here.
The facilitators only had one question regarding my previous diary entry.
“How are you using such sophisticated language?”
I hadn’t thought I had said anything particularly devout, but I suppose my language is more advanced than other children here. I explained to them that my late mother didn’t want foreigners looking down on me, so she painstakingly forced me to learn and speak like this to seem well-learned.
On the off-chance this is found by someone in the future, and you are hoping to learn more about this facility, leave now. You would be better off reading one of the other subject’s diaries as they would be able to paint a more vivid picture of this place.
Gray walls.
Gray room.
A glass pane that lets me see the dreary hallways of this place.
Mindless puppets either screaming or resolved to their fate plague these halls. Few have tried to escape, and they always come back different. Every day, we are taken to get “tested”, which is my facilitator’s way of saying forced experimentation. They do various things to awaken our gift, a power we supposedly have laying dormant.
I refuse to rely on something that might be able to help.
All I have to do is bide my time and wait.
Day 23:
It seems the diaries aren’t working that well for the other children here. I saw a facilitator leaving a crying kid’s room with a torn-up book and blood all over it.
Why even struggle?
They just draw attention to themselves and give the facilitators a reason to “move to the next step” and put them out of their misery.
I’m tired, and don’t feel like writing anymore.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
Day 25:
I was brought in for a particularly brutal “test” today.
To stimulate my body they injected me with an unspecified amount of voltage. While it hurt, I had to resist screaming too loud lest I be discarded like trash.
They would deem me as defective and throw me out if I was too weak. They would judge my body composition as unfit for awakening and kill me….most likely in an inhumane manner.
To survive, one needs to stay under the radar at all times.
Don’t stand out.
Don’t fall behind.
Live as a shadow waiting to claw through the light.
Day 32:
I walked to a new room today, a rare occasion.
The facilitators called it “open field practice” and gave us weapons to use. We could choose between bows, swords, needles, or gauntlets.
Back in my homeland, I mainly used a knife to survive. My late parents taught me that it doesn’t matter what the weapon is, it matters how you use it. Of course, I believe that if one knife was made of a higher quality than the other knife, the former would win if the people were at the exact same skill level.
Unfortunately, I never had the luxury to choose.
Regardless, I chose the bow as I have always been interested in using one. Having a ranged weapon may have prevented my abduction at the hands of these people.
The string was poorly made and the bow was made out of wood. Sufficient enough….yet I have to wonder if money is really the issue considering this high-tech facility.
I nocked an arrow and aimed at the mechanical circle.
It hit the bullseye on the target.
The other kids looked at me with a mixture of jealousy and awe, the commotion gaining the attention of the facilitators.
I was in a troublesome situation, I wanted to practice more with the bow, but I had attracted unwanted attention.
They told me to fire two more arrows, in which I acted like I was focused and aimed off the mark both times.
I could hear one of the facilitators say the word “fluke” under his breath as he walked away. When no one was looking, I snapped an arrowhead and put it under my gown. It could come in handy later.
Throughout that entire spectacle, I noticed the gaze of a white-haired girl trained on me, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.
It could be useful to gain allies, but as of now…..
Day 33:
I was subjected to another harsh experiment today. They wanted to test me and the other subject’s resistance to blood loss. They stuck tubes with needles all around our bodies, drawing blood from us like vampires attacking it’s prey.
It hurt.
It hurt.
It hurt.
It hurt.
It hurt.
It hurt.
It hurt.
I don’t know how long I stayed awake in the testing area but I woke up back in my room.
My gray room.
Endless.
Day 39:
The facilitators wanted to promote social interaction among the subjects, so we were forced into a cafeteria I had never seen before. Every child here has a number, ranking from zero all the way to 4000.
The numbers signified the order in which you were brought to this place. With the only exception being the single-digit numbers.
Apparently, they had awoken to their powers already, and were valued far higher. This was shown as they owned their own special table, and had gourmet food on their plate. Unlike us, who had gruel and a protein bar in a plastic dish.
A child sitting across from myself was staring at me, with a wild look in his eye. His plate was empty. I assumed he wanted my food.
Normally, I wouldn’t have given it to him. However the look in his eyes betrayed his hostile intentions if I kept the food for myself.
I gave him the food, and without a word he scarfed it down, even eating the wrapper on the protein bar.
It would be better to go hungry then be standing over a dead body after all.