Institutionalized

Chapter Nineteen

The next few days at the camp passed uneventfully. Carah saw very little of her brother since he was often busy in the tech tent with the two captains. She would often just sit in the tent with him while he worked, trying to understand what he was doing or simply napping. She rarely saw Aiden either. He spent most of his time with Gruggs and his band of WAI members. He told her they were the hunters of the group, which is what he was before being charged with getting Carter, in passing. She had tried to keep the conversation going, even asked when they were going on their next hunt, but he excused himself shortly after to visit with a middle-aged woman in a faded orange dress. That was two days ago.

If she was totally honest with herself, Carah missed the boys. They were her only real friends in the camp, and while no one was outrightly rude to her, she knew they did not accept her like they had her brother. She was the useless interloper. Carter at least had a purpose in being at the camp. He was helping them, fixing a problem that otherwise crippled their defenses. The members viewed her twelve-year-old brother as a little hero, even took to calling him such, but she was pretty sure maybe five of them knew her name.

She was Institute-bred, she heard a father whisper to his child across the fire pit. She smiled at the little girl, who just hid her face in her father's shirt. Her jaw clenched, and she resisted saying something. Instead, she stared at the flames leaping towards the sky. It was only dusk, but she had learned that the older women of the camp started the fire as soon as the sun began to set to start cooking.

A couple nights ago, she had offered to help when one of the usual cooks, a hunter named Aramis, was sick with a nasty cough. The cook in charge, a crotchety old woman who was blind in one eye, quickly shooed her away, claiming she would not know the first thing about cooking since she had never touched a skillet in her life, being Institute-bred and all.

Carah had received similar rebuffs from the cleaning crew, the hunters, the midwives, and the medics. Unlike the old cook, they had sweetly assured her it was because they had all the help they needed and did not want to waste her time when they had nothing for her to do. She saw through it though and left each group with her chin held high only for it to fall when she walked back into her tent.

That night was no different until someone plopped down on the wooden bench next to her and shoved some fabric in her hands.

"I know you probably don't know how to sew, but watching you sulk around the camp is depressing as hell, and I can't take it anymore."

Carah was startled to find a hunter, a girl only a few years older than her, staring at the flames with a needle and thread in one hand and a ripped shirt in the other. Her black eyes reflected the fire perfectly while her jet black, straight hair ran down her back in a low ponytail. Carah had seen her a few times around the camp and had even spotted her talking with Aiden a couple time.

"I wasn't sulking." She swore she had meant to say hello or some other, nicer greeting . "I was trying to help, but nobody would let me."

The girl smiled, a look of respect in her eyes. "I know. That's why I like you." She dropped the shirt in her lap to extend her hand. "The name's Amina."

Carah's eyebrows quirked upwards at Amina's blunt reply. She reminded her of Emelie, and a gust of sadness swept over her. "I'm Carah."

Amina laughed. "Oh, I know who you are. Hell, the whole camp knows who you are. You're the little hero's older sister."

"And I bet that's all the camp knows about me. That, and that I'm Institute-bred." She huffed a bitter laugh.

"Yeah," Amina sighed, looking around at the people starting to take their seats by the fire. "It takes awhile for people to get over that. Hatred for the Institutes runs deep around here."