Trapped

Belonging Creative.
“Bye honey!” my mum exclaimed for the car as she left on the street. I was outside a building that looked like a prison. It was old and vines had crept up the side of the building. They clung to the bars that were welded to the windows. The building was glooming over me. Overwhelming in size. It made me feel like a mouse. I ventured inside not knowing what would become of me. A frail old lady greeted me from behind a desk. “You must be new” A slight scowl to her voice. She led me to a dark room. A flick of a switch and light invaded the room. Highlighting every corner of the dust-ridden room. She handed me a gray uniform, smirked and left without a word. I stood in the empty lobby awaiting what would happen next. Either side of me long winding corridors trailed off into the unknown. The air was still. Nothing seemed to exist in this building. A man appeared from out of thin air. I jumped at the sound of his voice “Hello. Has your mother signed the paperwork?” he asked in his deep, drowsy voice. I handed him the sheets and he looked over them skeptically. A slight nod and I was quickly being lead up the stairs and down one of the winding corridors.   I kept my pace and my head down. Not wanting to look up or accidently glance into one of the passing rooms. We stopped at room 16 and entered. I kept my head down. Not wanting to make eye contact with the eyes in the room. Glaring at me. “I’ll hand her to you”. A cold woman, took her glasses off with her spider like fingers and dropped her book. She was now introducing me to the cohort of people. I glanced up for a second, enough to notice the eyes staring at me. They were all older than me, at least 1-2 years. “Take a seat” the woman said and I searched for an empty section of the seating arrangement. No-one around for 4 seats. Here I was. Trapped. For 4 years. I didn’t want to be here, sitting in this chair, wearing this itchy uniform, listening to the monotone of the woman reciting Shakespeare’s...