We Stood In Line

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Devastated doesn't even begin to explain the depth of my emotions. Shocked is only the tip of the iceberg. Betrayed is another good way to describe how I feel. I can feel her eyes on me, can hear her steps as she hurries towards me, but I pick up my pace, waving in and out of the crowd to lose her. I thought out of all the people I knew, she was the one I could trust the most. Apparently I was wrong. Apparently 20 years wasn't enough to truly know someone. I can hear her sister joining in on calling my name, but I continue forward, my eyes on the three lines ahead, the only way out of this dreadful place. I approach the middle line and don the shirt that was given to me at the beginning of this exercise. This was the end, the results we had all worked hard for. Each line had a different colored shirt. Mine was red, the line to my right had green shirts, the one to my left had yellow shirts. None of us knew what each color signified. My eyes snag on the familiar form of my former friend. She tries to mouth her apologies, but I look forward, ignoring her lies. The speakers overhead crackle before a demanding voice comes on. Each group please move forward toward your designated vehicles. Congratulations green team, you are our winners. Your bus will take you back home. Yellow team, we see something in you, you'll stay with us for a little while longer. Red team, I suggest you say your goodbyes to your friends and family, your vehicle will be taking you to your demise. Another crackle was heard from the loudspeakers, each of us falling silent for a moment before loud sobs began to pierce my ears. In seconds, we were surrounded by men with guns. There would be no escape for us. I looked over at my old friend once more, her face full of tears, a man holding her back. I gave her a simple wave, a white flag, freedom to mourn me without regrets. Then I woke up