Hello, this is just to say I do not own twilight or its characters.
Bella's P.o.v.
Every day is the same as the last we trudge in circles round our cage, which held no more meaning than the disappearance of a loved one. We all knew it was wrong not caring if we lived or died or about what happened to our once strong friendships, but in all truth we were barely human. Was it so wrong to wish I wasn't, after all it was the word human that had put us all here? So we carried on marching, praying that it would never stop, because if it did it could only mean one thing.
We received our meagre rations and started trudging again. This time to the steady incessant beat of a loud drum, it grated on my nerves with each step. I had been told that's why they did, to push us over the edge, zombies after all were easier to control that thinking beings capable of dreaming. Me and Renee were next to each other in line, but the woman who stood next to me was no longer my mother, she's nothing more than a shell now. She's been like this since Charlie was taken a while ago, although this place makes it impossible to judge time.
Charlie's passing had affected me to, but the same as everybody else, I had come to live without hope, without letting emotion cloud my judgment.
Then the metal blinds screeched up the bullet proof glass windows, high above our heads. The fresh sunlight was blinding and we staggered around desperately trying o keep our balance.
Those who fell were shot.
As the wide doors that led onto the viewing gallery opened the morning announcements rang out over the tannoy. A booming but strangely melodic voice rang out, infuriatingly calm in the midst of our desperation. "Welcome to The human institute number 1026, it's a beautiful morning, your skin is sparkling and what could be a better way to start the day then finding your tua cantante?" Hi mysterious voice questioning the approaching vampires.
The hordes of vampires glided in as if they were floating on air, each one breath-takingly beautiful to my human eyes. But there red eyes and pale skin made me shiver, I no longer thought of them as beautiful, I had come to learn that the only beauty in this hell, was in the last shreds of humanity we had left.
The vampire filed round the gallery in a continuing circle. Every now and then one would pause, sniff the air and point a human out to a guard. I dreaded the day one of those icy white fingers would point at me, it meant you had been chosen and would be sold to that vampire for food.
I call them guards although there jobs are pretty meaningless, no human has ever tried to escape, and if they tried to they would be killed in a blink of an eye. The guards had been hypnotised so as to not smell human blood and to not interfere with visiting vampires. But there was always an undercurrent of terror because the risk of a guard becoming too overwhelmed by the potent smell of human blood that they would wake up from there trance and kill us all. Although I've never seen this my poor friend Jacob was the only survivor to such an attack.
He stays about five places down from me, so although he puts on a brave face during the day, I can hear the screams his nightmares release.
I know the danger is real, the fear tangible on the air but it seems to far away so unbelievable. Is it so wrong to live in a fantasy world where vampires don't exist and I'd be free to do as I liked? But this is my life this is how it must be, survival of the fittest.
The vampires continue to circle us scrutinising our unwashed hair and dull eyes. It only serves to feed the theories that humans are sub-beings, incapable of thought or voice. But they will probably never know any different has any vampire paused long enough to hear our side of the story?
Sometimes its easy to forget where I am, I taste the autumn leaves and ate sunsets of my childhood, smell the ice-cream van and feel the cool breeze of freedom on my skin. At others I am trapped here in my body, with the smell of hundreds of humans crammed together and only the taste of stale bread on my tounge.
This is not living, this is dying.