Gay concentration camp

chapter 3

Soon it was my birthday, a day that was forever burned into my mind. This was the day my mother was taken away from me. It was a normal day for the most part, the sun was out and there were a few clouds in the sky. Because it was my birthday my mom let me skip my lessons and played with me until lunch. But during lunch that horrible pounding came back to our door. My mother went to go answer the door but she never came back. So I ran out of our house and all the way to our areas boundaries. There was a small hole under the wooden planks that were put up to keep us in. I was small for my age and managed to squeeze myself through the hole. Once I had gotten out of the little ghetto they put us in I noticed that nothing had changed in half a year. All the boys still had their buzz cuts with their grey uniforms and the ladies had their chin length hair with their grey skirts and black tops. The buildings were still painted their depressing grey and the flags with grey, black, and white were still tacked up. The people looked happy enough so I'm guessing that no one really noticed the planks that were put up. Either way I started to make my way to the jail. The police there didn't look familiar so I guess they were shocked that an eleven year old made their way to the jail by himself. The man at the desk looked down at me and sighed asking me who I wanted to talk to. I responded with my mother's name "Marie Robison". The man at the desk waved his hand and another police man guided me to the telephones. Where I was met with a woman I could barely recognize. She had only been there for a short time but her hair was a mess and she looked tired.

When she saw me her eyes lit up. Then suddenly her eyes dimmed again. "How did you get here?" I knew I shouldn't answer for real because if the police heard me then I would probably be driven back to that horrible ghetto. "Well I got my mother to let me walk over here to see you Auntie Marie" I said giving her a look that I hoped told her to go along with it. It must have worked because she nodded and accepted the answer. We talked for an hour about useless things. We talked about my birthday, the weather, and almost anything else you can think of. I hadn't even lost her for long but I missed her so much. Then a police man on her side walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder and told us it was time for her to go. She nodded and quickly stood up. Before she completely left the window she turned to me and whispered, "Run Chance... don't let them know you like boys" A police man behind her stiffened and slowly turned to us.

I couldn't move. I just watched as the most horrific scene I have ever seen unfolded in front of me. The man on her side grabbed my mother's short red hair and slammed her into the white brick wall behind us. The wall that was once white was now streaked red with her blood. She was screaming and sobbing for me to run and leave but I was glued to my seat. The man who held her slammed her into the wall again and again until she slumped down against the wall, not moving. The man let her go and turned to me. I didn't move I was staring at my mother who I hoped was unconscious, not dead. The man ran over to my side and picked me up by my shirt. "You like boys?" his breath smelled bad and he was all up in my face. I, still in my trance, just nodded my head, my eyes never leaving my mother. The officer waved his hand and three more police came up to join us. I distinctly remembered them calling me names, awful names that shouldn't have ever been made up in the first place. It makes me think about what they would have done if we weren't in public.

The police were now forming a square around me with their bodies. Have you ever seen the president's daughter with her body guards? Yes, it was exactly like that, only they weren't here to make sure I was safe, they were there to make sure the people stayed safe from me.

It was like I had a disease because as soon as they formed their little square we marched down to the health ward of the jail. They forced into my hands a suit, it was all yellow and had a glass pane in front of your face so you can see. They told me to put it on and fast because we had to leave. So I did. The guards then put on suits of their own and grabbed long metal rods. It was almost like a gigantic sized trash grabber. They all opened their grabbers and latched it onto my waist, effectively trapping me from moving side to side. They started to move, pulling me along. It hurt a lot, my waist twisting and skin grabbing in places that I haven't felt before. My shirt rose up to expose some of my waist and the grippers would pinch horribly. The police didn't seem to care though and they kept dragging me around. We walked out of the station and the police put a blindfold over my eyes. When I tried to ask what was going on a man with a very strong hand slapped me clear across the face, telling me that I didn't have the right to speak. I was only eleven so of course I didn't understand. I was very smart but I had no idea why I couldn't speak. I'm not sure why our neighborhood had big ugly planks in front of it. And I'm also not sure why the police never did anything with all the dead bodies that piled up along our streets. Finally I'm not sure why we were different.