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It had been several hours since the event.

A section of the glass wall had been transformed into a screen, and was now playing a how-to video on Nest etiquette. All the girls were sitting together and watching the silly actors demonstrating above—forced to feign interest as they were surrounded on either side by at least a dozen guards. There was a general feeling of annoyance at the child-like treatment they were being subjected to.

"It's not like 91 represents ALL of us. Is it necessary for us to watch the video?" they grumbled to one other. The other girls wanted to get back to their normal schedules and prove to the Nest that THEY were worthy, that THEY did indeed have proper etiquette, and actually fit to be selected.

On the outside, 124 agreed with the general babble and kept her head low. Many conflicting thoughts were swirling around in her head, and she was scared that if she actually spoke to someone, she would vomit and pass out.

124 hadn't done anything when 91 was pulled away. She didn't even take a step forward or tell the guards to wait. All she did was watch, and even with that gestures, she wasn't sure if the Committee had seen her stance as an act of disobedience.

Although this was farfetched, 124 also considered that maybe she had been infected with a virus or bacteria that 91 may have had, and that's why she was also beginning to develop the same phantom feelings and memories.

She shook her head violently as another wave of nausea tore at her skull, and wondered if she should notify someone in charge. However, her register displayed nothing irregular to show for her mental collapse, other than a faster than normal heart beat.

Upon seeing 124's pale face, three other girls had all come to ask if she was okay. But 124 was highly aware of the guards watching their every move, and brushed off their worries with a smile, trying to collect her composure once more.

Even in bed, 124 couldn't help but think about the events of the day. After, completing the daily Weigh In—standing underneath the glass tube, which had reported her stats holographically to everyone in the Nest—she had felt even worse, and crumpled into her designated cot without any desire to sleep.

"Amrite, Amrite, Amrite. "

She twisted in her sheets, listening to her breaths intertwine with the soft murmings coming from all along the sides of the Nest.

This must be her name because she had known what 91 deliberately saying. And it sounded right, the way the name flowed in her head "Amrite. Amrite. Amrite."

She got up, careful as to not wake any of the other girls.

It had been several hours since the projectors had been turned off, and live in the Nest was at a standstill. Walking alone in the darkness, with her feet curling on the soft grass between her toes, Amrite finally gave in, and decided to revisit her visions. She saw a wooden table laden with fruits. She saw a bookshelf decorated with handwritten cards and photographs. A couple, a boy, and a girl. She saw a black truck pulling up next to her house, before she felt someone pulling her away and into the abyss.

"Amrite! GO! Hide here, they can't find you. Stay hidden."

"Ah..." she winced, rubbing her temples trying to remember more, but nothing else came to her. Walking absentmindedly with her eyes closed, she was about five feet away from the glass tube when she distinctly heard a soft humming.

Stopping dead in her tracks, Amrite turned to face the elevator, which she had not realized before, but was illuminated by a small, red, pulsating light.

It was on.

Amrite inched closer, until she was directly inside—which she hadn't been since her arrival at the Nest. She curiously inspected the buttons and glowing red light, until she was suddenly rocketing upwards, the ground moving farther and farther away. 

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