Bound to the Stars

The morning sky was clearer than it had been in months. The sky is not something I necessarily enjoy looking at, considering the current situation on Earth; however, I cannot deny its beauty. Despite everything, I still find it striking, but then again, that feels like a traitorous thought. The soothing hum of music serves as an early-morning wake-up call for us humans. Groans and movement stretch out around me. It is time to begin another day. Another useless day, in my opinion. This was not living; this was surviving. As sad as that thought is, I am beginning to think that I might be ready to perish rather than become a mate for one of their kind. At least I could have my own free will rather than another deciding for me. I pull the thin blanket tighter around my body and allow myself a few more seconds of peace. It won't be long before one of the guards comes through the living quarters and ushers us toward breakfast. They call it breakfast, anyway. Everything here has a name intended to make our situation sound more pleasant than it actually is. Our rooms are living quarters. The buildings are residential facilities. The guards are attendants. And this place is a matching center. I call it what it is. A prison. I turn my head toward the window once more, hoping to catch one final glimpse of the sky before I am forced from my bed. Sometimes I try to remember what mornings used to feel like. Waking up because I had somewhere to be. Complaining about being tired. Hitting snooze one too many times and then rushing around because I was almost late for work. It's funny how irritating those mornings felt at the time. I would give almost anything to have one back. "Good morning, sunshine." I close my eyes at the sound of the familiar voice beside me. "There's absolutely nothing good about it." A quiet laugh follows my response. At least there is that. They haven't managed to take away laughter yet. I roll over to find my best friend, Nadine, already sitting on the edge of her bed. Her long brown hair is piled on top of her head in what can only be described as a bird's nest. Somehow, even after everything that has happened, she still manages to wake up looking more put together than I do. My blonde hair always looks like a rat’s nest when I wake up in the morning; literally, there is nothing that I can do to my hair the night before that helps its nest-like appearance in the morning. "How are you possibly cheerful right now?" I ask. "I'm not cheerful. I'm hungry." She retorts. “That’s the same thing for you.” She laughs and throws the corner of her blanket at me. "Get up before they come in here and do it for you." That is enough motivation for me to finally push myself out of bed. The concrete floor is cold beneath my feet as I reach for the clothes folded beside my bed. They are the same clothes every woman in this building wears. Gray pants. Gray shirt. Gray sweater when the temperature drops. Apparently, our captors have a particular appreciation for the color gray. Or maybe color is considered too much of a privilege. I quickly changed before pulling my hair into a ponytail. Privacy isn't exactly something we have much of anymore. There are partitions around the showers and toilets, but otherwise, everything we do happens in front of everyone else. Sleep. Eat. Change. Cry. Wait. Mostly, we wait. I have been waiting for eight months. Eight months since the Valerathyins arrived on Earth. Six months since I was brought here. And every morning I wake up with the same thought. Maybe today will be the day they choose me. The thought sends a chill through my body that has nothing to do with the temperature.