Chapter Two- The Plans

Here is Chapter Two, as well !!


Chapter 2-The Plans
I started to attend the ritual meetings each week, so I didn’t look suspicious. I was literally at home every other time of my days, formulating what needs to be done in order to get out of this place. Of course, I had Christopher look at the dome shaped bubble that we were trapped in, and calculate what exactly needs to be in place and who needs to help, for us to get out of here. We were shooting for a large amount of people to get out when I do, including Christopher. This is when we no longer care for the younger ones. We need to get out, and that is all that we can care for at the moment. I literally spent days in my room, just putting everything in my head, on to paper. I had to throw at least twenty, well-formulated plans out, just because, they weren’t well enough. 
We eventually planned what we needed to be done. The dome obviously had doors, since the General and doctors left quite often, and in truth, they were all gone on weekends….together. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. That would be enough time for us to leave…at least, we all hoped that it would be. But, first, we had to get a large group together, not only to help out, but to get out as well. Each weekend, we were going to smash the recording devices around the 15 mile perimeter of Narrow Ridge, until each and every device was diminished. The weekend after we finished destroying the recording devices, we’d go to the doors and break out. General and the doctors realized we’d given up on breaking out, after being stuck inside these metal walls for over five months (I eventually lost count). They believed that and they didn’t even set an alarm on the doors to the exit anymore…of course, we noticed. They didn’t bar the door, nor set men outside of it…they just let us free, without letting us free. They made it quite easy to…well…just leave.
Friday night, we had a group of 63 kids ranging from ages 10 to 17. We broke down into groups of 5-6 people and scattered throughout Narrow Ridge, smashing each and every camera, video taping system, voice recognitions, alarm systems, etc. that we possibly could. I felt my adolescence arising inside of me, and the strain/creases informing from my heavy face. I felt a sense of life growing back inside of me.
The only thing that kept me going was the adrenalin of breaking out of this prison and the thought of my mother’s embrace. My mother…she keeps my legs moving and my bat smashing. A bat that we made by hand, from the cutting the wood off the rotting oak trees and sanding the wood down until it resembled a baseball bat, being sturdy in all.
I smashed everything I could, starting from camera, to mailboxes, to trees themselves. I smashed everything inside this town, out of rage and anger…and why? I was trying to smash this outer environment to restore and revise my inner environment.
All 63 of us seemed as if we lost our sanity, as we destroyed our already destroyed town. We were restoring hope as we destroyed what soon would be our unforgettable past. We knew that we were headed down a long, narrow ridge, that we could easily slip and fall off of…but, we ARE from Narrow Ridge, and I believe that we are quite capable of such a tedious task.
All we could wonder in all our current activities were questions, such as, “where are my parents”, “where is the rest of the world”, and “will we actually be able to pull through and push forward as we break out of this prison”. The adrenalin rushed through us like lightening charges when such questions formed inside of our brains. But, I, individually, decided that there is no need for questions like “where is”, “will we”, or “what if”. All we were doing was inserting a little piece of doubt that wired our brains, and eventually tear us apart at the seams. I wasn’t about to become a raggedy teddy bear, owned by a three year old, that was torn and beaten. I wouldn’t allow myself to fade away with the breeze, not like I would have to worry about fading with the breeze at all either way, since in fact, this dome holds no breeze, until man pushed a button on the outside. Ridiculously, men think that they can become God, or act as a puppet master of what they think is lower-society. Men are false and imperfect, especially General Baliff and every other heartless bastard who associates themselves with the United States’ military.
The military is defined by the United States’ citizens as heroic men and women who risk their lives to fight for their country against terrorists and other teratogens to the child in the womb (our country). Citizens define them as noble and deserving respect. But, the truth behind all of that is faking. The military is nothing but lying creeps that come together and falsely state the real events that took place with activities they are involved in. They lie to cover up all the illegal activity, like taking freedom away, they involve themselves in. They trap people inside of their lies, and then, eventually trap them inside dome prisons, and use them as lab rats towards another experiment. The military, nor the government, deserve to be labeled noble, or respectful. They shouldn’t be praised for their undying bravery. They are just completely…ignorant.
Ignorant, in my definition, is simply being too much of an idiot to realize that your reality is false. I know that Wikipedia or any other dictionary would define the word “ignorant” much more precisely and most likely in a different aspect. But, this is how I define ignorant, and this is how I feel. My thoughts and feelings towards the government in its entirety could go on in a senseless ramble. But, all that really needs to be taken from this is that no one is perfect or as noble as you suspect. And, this government is a self-seeking, lying, ennoble, and provocative group of no heroic men and women of the so called “free” United States.
The United States government end up repeating antithesis through each paragraph that they publicly speak, having dazed Americans baffled, and thinking that the government is smart in itself, without realizing that they are being tricked into believing lies, set up as truth. What the government doesn’t realize is that many people aren’t naive and see through their tricky sentence structures, and see the core of who they really are. I am one of those few, but still an excessive amount, of Americans and even non-Americans, who can see through the United States’ outer appearance of good, and see the evil. I am even experiencing the evil. 
Christopher and I have had hardcore conversations of the evil lurking inside our government, for years on end. But, now, we have lived and seen the proof that we debate about consistently. Him and I have been friends since we were young, and he is the only friend that I have kept for so long. That is most likely because, even though younger, he still is at a higher intelligence level than I am. I wouldn’t be able to step a foot outside of here if it wasn’t for him, nor will I without him. He is the only person that I would risk my life for, besides my mother, of course. We are that close, and he feels like a brother to me. I have never had any siblings, so maybe that is why. But, I enjoy caring for someone like that.
But, anyone else inside this town loses my attention. I am probably supposed to be the mother figure in such a tragedy, like you would read in some fictional, happy ending kind of book…but, this is life, and I am not for the whole nurturing the younger children and risking my escape to make sure that they get theirs. I would have to say, that is completely ridiculous. Yes, Christopher and I may be the oldest, but, they wouldn’t have the chance to get out without us anyways. So, they can wait for us to step on dirt outside this dome, before running wild. After I get out, with Christopher by my side, so we may find our past and make it our future, those kids can do whatever will please them. 
My future is so important to me, and I need to grasp hold of it, and never let go. I need to be able to celebrate new beginnings and bury the old, like these. I need to set off fireworks on the fourth of July, for my freedom and independence. Except, once I get out of here, I am taking my mother, and leaving the United States. I really don’t care where we go, as long as it is not in the United States’ territory. I don’t care if the military was forever banned and this communism/dictatorship shit was gone. Once I am gone from the United States, I am definitely not coming back. I won’t ever look back to my old life. I won’t look at my old friends, boyfriends, school, etc. I will have everything I need, and I will not need a single damn thing that the United States has to offer. I will fall in love with everything that is outside of this territory, and I know that I will appreciate my mother, pets, and nature so much more than I ever did before. I will love reading and school, meat and fast food. I will love everything that I have lost. I will love everything that I gain. I never have loved anything as much as this feeling that I have to just break out of this place and be free once again. I never truly understood the feelings that Martha Stewart and the slaves had felt when being stuck in their prison. I do now. If I have to, I will dig a railroad under this place to get to the “New World”. I will get out. I need to. I have to. 
Getting out of here is on all of our minds right now, as we smash the last cameras and taping systems. We all are depressed and sleep weary. We all are in need of school and friends, and some happy cartoon like Sponge Bob Square Pants or Courage the Cowardly Dog. Something to turn this suddenly bleak and dreary land, to something that is livable and something that I can endure. I would appreciate if this place was anything besides the shit-hole that it actually is. I wish that I could at least listen to Jone Jett during times where I am depressed feeling. The songs would match how I feel, and let me feel like me. 
There are no more stars to gaze at, nor a moon to see God’s magical beauty. The sun is far off, and there is our own source of heat that comes from the real sun, sending light and heat into our prison, by refraction. You may need to know Science, or any little thing, to understand the term of refraction. It isn’t reflection, either. It is simply refraction. And, sometimes, I felt at piece for the second that it refracted, and made it seem like summer’s golden rays. But, it immediately leaves and the peace then turns to simple and painful loneliness.
I remember that there isn’t anyone to turn to, and all I can possibly do is sit there and remorse…or, I can take actions into my own hands and smash the hell out of the government’s property, which I eventually chose. I can break out and I can smile. I can laugh. I can dance. I can read. I can do whatever the hell I want, because once I am free, I am free for good. With that said, I must conclude that I hate and I absolutely mean those “strong” words, when I say that I hate every single person who is involved with this and is ruining many people’s lives…and, I am not exactly sure in how many places, either. But, it must be more than here, because, how could this be the only place, and me to get stuck here? 
I don’t even dream anymore. I mean, you always have dreams. It is psychologically proven that everyone dreams every time that they fall asleep. But, I don’t have pleasant ones. Once I am in my stage four sleep, I begin to have my night terrors, and it isn’t pleasant in the least bit. I sometimes sleep walk. Christopher has woken me up, while I stand where the church use to be. I am walking in burned lands in my dream, and dying at the same time. I don’t even remember half the things that I dream about, I just wake up, frightened, and wanting out. 
Wanting to have something memorable, and not horrible, but never getting it. That is how you could describe my life. But, I am not permitted to have any experience in life, now, other than those that are horrible. I feel like a Jew in World War II, stuck inside a concentration camp. We have to work for the little we get, and it is always starting with the bastards in government position.
I feel like a mess, and I am in a blur. Of course, my feelings are nothing besides a ramble of unimportant facts, that everyone else says is opinions. It is nothing close to an opinion and everything is supported. It is FACTS! Facts that I am stuck here because the military has some shit that they need to straighten out. But, truthfully, we all have major shit that we need to straighten out. That isn’t even the point though. Yes, we bully people and say hurtful things that are nothing besides completely messed up. But, even with our wrongs, we still don’t take other’s rights from them and lock them inside a prison to become ants under the magnifying glass. We still don’t use people in case studies, or make them our lab rats, in which we infiltrate and inflict pain, emotionally and physically, on others. 
This is when I wonder if this life really matters. I mean, all the time people that are in higher power just decide to point fingers in someone else’s direction and play God. They torment and persecute others for things that weren’t even wrongs. They hang those who aren’t truly witches. They kills those who aren’t really communists. And, they trap those who aren’t able to really handle it. They take the freedom and they penetrate bondage into the pores of each and every human that they possibly can. It is seen everywhere, too. It isn’t only the United States. If you look in those History books that are dusty and under a bed, you would see that everyone in every single country acts out like this. Humans are evil people. So, would it really be good for me to move away from the United States? Really? 
I smash more. This time, it is whatever that is in sight. I am just angry, and I need to get out. I can’t wait this last week. I can’t. I can’t even wait a moment longer. I just don’t know why I am stuck in such a place like this…prison. Prison without the bars, but with no way out. Like a four-walled room without any doors or windows. But, there has to be a way inside, so, there must be a way out. But, the thing is, is it as easy as it seems to be? 
When we open that door to leave, will we have been wrong the whole time, and that they actually have people watching those doors, and maybe an alarm on the outside…what if it’s a silent alarm, too? We would think that we gained freedom, to be pulled back twenty minutes later. What is going to happen when we open that door…do I want to find out? My thoughts are scrambling into a big mess, where I don’t even understand what I am thinking. 
My heart is unsettled and smashing possessions no longer is satisfying for my thirst. Thirst of revenge. I want those men to die and I want them to suffer for what they bring upon us. I want to inflict pain and suffering on those who are heartless. They,  meaning the United States, will wish that none of this had ever happened. As for my father, he is dead to me, already. He is the worst past that there is, and to trap your own daughter, unlinking her from the chain (the world), just proves what kind of cynical man that he truly is. Hate arises towards everyone, including myself. I hate(and I can not express this with more pain)my life. I have never felt depressed, until now. I use to be optimistic about every single thing, until, let’s say, six months ago, when life turned around for me. But, now, ever drop of sweat that leaves my pores are filled with overwhelming pessimistic views towards any little thing that could go wrong. There isn’t hope, nor do I attend to find any. I know that something is going to happen. We all feel it. So, why do we pretend that we are okay, and are going to make it out just fine? Something will happen, and I know that it will….right when we step foot out of that door.
Was it okay for me to be scared? I was the eldest now. I am sure that they all looked to me for the comfort. If I am scared, it might rub off on them…and, then, we won’t ever even make it to the doorstep. But, I don’t know how to look anything besides distressed…is it possible anymore? From wake to sleep, I feel worried and watched. I feel as if someone is breathing their hot breath down my neck. A neck that went from smooth silk to rotten, grody dirt. Skin that has nothing to it. No tissue or muscle. My hands, blistered from helping the younger kids learn how to farm, have blisters on top of blisters. My arms, no muscle left inside, hang loosely by my sides, and my voice box can only make a low, hollowed sigh. A sigh that can carry and was heard by many. A look of pure distress cover my face and proved my thoughts true. Worry covered this land, and the kids sighed as well. Me, their own mentor, knew what wasn’t going to happen. Me, their own mentor, who had no faith. Me, their own mentor, doubting what I should believe. Me…myself…I. My life feels like nothing more than lies and what I grew up learning, even worse. How can I trust anyone in my life, if this had to happen to me, now, at the young age of 17. How can any one of the kids learn to trust others, when they are even younger than I, and they are suffering the same sufferage that I am. How…? It is undeterminable that others can actually hope and believe that we will get out of this hell. It is unreal that I can not have faith in that. It is not right. Is anything right? My mother is probably dead, and if not, she is suffering, as well. She might have even taken her own life, or she might have tried to. But, I am not sure, because, I am away…far away. And, the thing is, I want her back, close to my heart, as well as my physical body. I want to smell her scent and feel comfort. I want her homemade peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies to warm me up inside and make pure delight seep through my pores. I want to smile and laugh. Dance and cry tears of joy. I want something that is unobtainable. I want something that is not going to either give me a stroke, or just kill me all together.
Going home, to rest, and gain strength for this very long week, I dropped my shoulders into a low slum, and I heaved tears of rage and frustration. I wanted to live my life, and one without General Baliff’s daily threats of murder. I wanted to erase memories and restore those with new and refreshing ones. Ones that wouldn’t hurt me or send me to a psych ward. I didn’t want to become crazy, or “loony”. I didn’t want to end my life lonely, or depressed. I wanted my old joy and my old satisfaction to come back to me. I wanted to just have an overwhelming peace. The peace that you get when you feel free…like Christians feel when they accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. Is this what I am living in? Is this Hell? Did I not do what was right, and somehow died, and ended in here…or, is life just hell and you eventually go to heaven. When will I say farewell to my friends? When will I have love? When will I grow old and look back on life, and think, “…well, I accomplished something big, and that gives me integrity that is so great”.
I don’t think that will happen with me, though. I will always remember these times in the back of my mind, and not be able to erase it, even if I went to the ends of the earth to try. With hypnosis, I would still remember. In my dreams, that is all that comes through. The thing is, I can’t even remember the taste of pizza or a steak. My amgdyla is blocking my hippocampus from storing those important memories over moments like these that should be erased. That is the sad part. This tragedy that strikes fear inside me is taking everything good out and replacing it with hurt on top of more hurt. This pain is seeping inside me and producing a black hole that is sickening. 
Sick…that is how I feel. Sick is how I look. I am pale and skinnier than ever before. My legs have no muscle, nor does any part of my body. I can barely walk at times, from feel so starved and sick. And, when I am on my period, they just allow us to bleed and blood will flow if not stopped…which it isn’t. They don’t have pads or tampons for us to clean up the mess. They like to see our blood, and they like to see our suffering. They work the girls harder on their monthly. They work them until they can’t bare the pain and almost collapse. They hate people, and they love pain. So, why not make people suffer more in their suffrage. 
Although, they hurt us, they try to win us over, to eventually hurt us, again. I actually believed that they were trying to help me at the beginning, and after watching them shoot children in their head for being too young to understand…I realized that they are just monstrous bastards. They want what is worst for us…and, they will do whatever they need to make that happen to us. 
Whether taking our parents, books, Bibles, church, education, and source of food away, or just making us bleed in front of everyone…they make us suffer from embarrassment and pain. They truly don’t know what love is, and they hurt, hurt, hurt everyone. It is an automatic process for them to do so. They are horrible men and dictators among us. McCarthy would have been right to point fingers, now, at the government. Now, is when his false tales are true facts. But, maybe, McCarthy really did know things about the government, and their lies. Maybe this is not all so new. I won’t ever be able to know for sure. But, if the military and the United States’ government can do this, now…then, they definitely could have done this back then, too, right?
I am not sure how much of history that I truly believe. When the government is made to sound perfect and holistic, it is confirmed to be false. But, when something like the United States trapping and murdering children occurs, there is no way that couldn’t be anything besides the truth. Imagining a man and his family sitting at their kitchen table, reading the newspaper and seeing this story pop up…they’d be enraged, and probably leave the United States in fear of their and their children’s own freedom and life. Any one who isn’t a part of such a thing would be outraged. United States is the land of the free. That is sung in our own National Anthem, and yet, no one truly has freedom. It can be taken from any person at any moment. Every person should be in fear of what might occur next, because, truthfully, at any given moment a bomb can be dropped in your own town, emotionally and physically separating you from the rest of the world. Then, all you can think of is everything that you did wrong, and how to fix what can no longer be fixed. You accumulate plans that can not truly be done in such a situation. You conclude that all is lost, but, you still have hope, until that too is shattered like broken glass. Your life is no longer what it was, nor could it ever be that way, again. My mother, if she is trapped, where is she trapped at? Do they have their own replication of the Jewish concentration camps, for adult, as well? Or, are they only doing this to minors, since we really don’t have freedom until we are 18, besides our parent’s decisions? Are all of our parents the ones that are behind this? No, I can’t and shouldn’t think like that, but, the thing is, I have no hope of getting out. I have no hope of sleep, because, all I can do on this night, is sit erect and look out unto the fields, which are broken and gray. 
Grayness is like a blob inside my life, which I can not get past, as much as I hit and kick. Black and white. No other colors or expressions. Colors represent oras, but, mine would still be black, for death. That is how I feel. I feel like Death, himself, has taken his scepter and ripping life out of my body. My soul is intangible to take hold of. My optimism and joy has left me, and they, themselves, died as well. All because Death took what was mine, and spoke in canny lies, until I no longer had air to breathe. But, truly, I am alive…but, dead. 
“Dead to this world” is a term that Christians use to refer to their holy lifestyle with Jesus, and how they no longer need their secular music, or their heroin to shoot up on. But, I am dead to this world from just lack of the world itself. I was cut off from the chain, and this chain is rusting in the rain. If this chain could shrink and shrivel away, it already would have…but, the rust is breaking this chain down, until no longer useful to carry out the purpose it was made for.
The thing is, I am not even sure I can remember my purpose on earth, or if I ever even knew what that was in the first place. All I have is lies on top of lies, which I don’t know who or what to believe…not even Christopher, for sure. And, I can’t carry out a purpose that I am destined for, if that is how I see this world and her population. People from all ethnicities, religions, and countries, can no longer be trusted to me, and I am sure to all the other children that were deceivingly locked inside of these prisoned walls. Some have grown comfortable to these conditions that are bestowed upon us, but, I will not allow my body, nor my soul, to grow into this and eventually accept this. I am not going to be one of those girls, who are kidnapped, and kept hidden for nineteen years in the back of a shed, and just comply, until finally free. I deserve my freedom, for I have not done wrong against these men, and I will fight until I get that. Even, if that means that I die while trying, at least, I will know that I tried, and didn’t accept the intolerable. 
I was not like those who think that if I just sit here and take the beating, that it will eventually work out in the end. No, I am one who will do the beating, and get to where I need to be. That is the only perspective that I can see this from, now. No matter the little…actually, non-existent hopes that I have, I will do what I need to, and so I can gain such hope. I know Christopher feels the same, because we do talk about this, and we both have lost hope at the same time the last recording device was shattered into pieces. We lost hope, because we were too close to getting out, and we both know that it will not be as easy, as smashing things without notice, and opening the door to walk out. If they are killing children for just being naive, then, what is stopping them from standing there, and waiting for us to take that step and get shot down right there?
But, truthfully, I think that my soul would be set free, right when that door is opened, and my feet touch dirt outside. Having the trickles of sunlight form beams of light upon my skin, and feeling the warmth around me…I know that all would end well. Even if I got murdered right then, I would die a happy girl. I would die knowing that I made it out, and I would die, without ever having to go back. I would die with a smile upon my lips, and joy restored to my face, once again. I would die in peace, and feel no pain. I would just die and began a new life. 
I wouldn’t worry about my mother in that last moment, and I wouldn’t think of the past. I’d rejoice my freedom and give out a single laugh. I would wish for it to rain, or to see a spider. I would wish for all my fears to come alive. I would dance like David did when he became king, and I would do it without carrying what other’s think. I will never feel fear again, and that is the day that I await. This is our plan that we have created, and this time, I am not going to think if I should do otherwise. We will get out, and this plan is going to bring us our redemption. This plan is going to kill what was killed and give life to the lifeless. This plan is the only plan. This plan is what I am breathing for. This is the plan of the lifetime. This is our future. This is the breaking of our past. This is what we need to open our eyes in the morning. This is the only thing that is keeping me alive. This plan is our hope.