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You once again found yourself swaying on your spinny chair, positioned in front of the control panel you had claimed.
A picture of you and your mum in front of Tower Bridge in London when you were dragged along for work experience only months ago.
You had studied psychology after high school had ended and your overly enthusiastic mother had contacted one of her high school best friends who just so happened to be working in the same field.
One thing led to another and before you knew it, you were on a flight to London.
That was only two years ago. And yet so much had happened in that time.
You came back to your homeland with your mum.
Found a course in psychology, studied from home, your dad took over a company, you passed your driving test, got a part time job, flew to Italy by yourself for a few weeks and got a guinea-pig.
Still, within a matter of hours, all of that became irrelevant.
Everything you had grown accustomed to in your eighteen years of life had been ripped away from you. Nothing stayed the same. Nothing. But no amount of despair and crying would reverse that.
Nothing could. The best option now would be to accept your new life and move on. What other options were there?
It was barely after dinner before you were up and about again, sneaking around the halls and poking your head into places you were not supposed to be.
You wandered aimlessly, eating the last few crumbs from your now empty packet of oatcakes.
Honestly, it was like eating cardboard. You had lived off these oaty round snacks since the apocalypse started. Very rarely did you get offered anything else.
Considering the lab had running water and an electricity source, you were bewildered as to why you weren't eating warm food.
But then again, maybe that was a liberty you weren't allowed unlike everyone else.
You hadn't earned anything. You had no rights that you could flaunt around at this point. Cutting you loose would be the easiest thing in the world, so pushing your luck this late in the operation would not end in your favour.
You were currently on floor 2. The very same floor nobody was permitted to be on after curfew without express permission. If it were to crop up in conversation, you were never given permission. Hell, you weren't even allowed outside your bedroom. But yet, here you were, breaking all the rules.
It would be around eleven o'clock right now and under no circumstances were you in any mood to be asleep. This place. It made you restless.
Maybe it was the lack of exercise you were getting. Or maybe it was something else, but you would find yourself seeing the morning in most days. Sat in that spinny chair of yours, watching the clock on the computer change every minute.
