I don’t have to conform.

I don’t have to conform.

I don’t have to conform.

I don’t have to conform.

I don’t have to conform.

I don’t have to conform.

You repeat these five words under your breath over and over again, blocking out anything different from your mind. I need to stay calm, keep a clear mind and act normal. You tell yourself before accidentally bumping your hip into the corner of a table and knocking over the glass beakers. You watch in horror as gravitational forces bring the beakers to the floor and shards of glass sprawl over the pristine white floors.

“Shit” you mutter as heads turn your way. “Sorry. Accident” you respond nervously. They only look at you for another few seconds then at the broken beakers on the floor before turning back with their clipboards to study the boy again.

You wanted to get a closer look at him. You only caught a glimpse of him this morning but he was too busy talking to a girl, Teresa, was it? They were always together, it was obvious he liked her and maybe she liked him too. It was the boy’s turn to go in today, and then it’ll be Teresa’s tomorrow. They must have special plans since they’ve never sent a girl in before but what will the other boys think of them?

You met him a couple of years ago when the first brought him here. “Going to change everything, that boy” someone had said. “He’s a special one for sure. He’s definitely going to help” another had commented.

“I- I don’t want to be a part of this anymore” you say to no one in particular, your voice shaking.

“Of course you do. You’re helping us save the world. Wouldn’t you like to be a part of that?” a women, no older than 30 asks you. She wasn’t in the group tending to the boy but she was still important.

“Stop talking to me like I’m a child.” You say, trying your best to swallow your anger. “Those kids- uh boys out there haven’t the slightest idea how they’ll get out alive or even if they’ll make it out alive. Can’t you find a different way to find a cure? Not one that involves murdering innocent people!” you cry. You know every single boy in The Glade because all of them went through the exact same procedure as Thomas. They all came here first, to you to get their memory wiped. And before they stepped into The Box, before ridding them of the memories, you had become friends with each boy. But now if they were to meet you again, they wouldn’t know you.

“Escort her out. She’s making a mess anyway”. The Head says and someone grabs your arm. He drags you out of the room as you kick and scream to be released but with no avail.

 “Keep still.” The man “escorting” you out grunts and tugs on your arm roughly. You wince with pain and do as he says. You plant your feet firmly on the ground and wriggle your way out of the man’s grip and run down the hall.

“Hey! Get back here!” you hear him yell but keep turning corners and make your way to a familiar door labelled:

The Box:

Group A

You’ve never been through the doors but you’ve seen others go through.

I have to go in. I have to save them.

Crazy thoughts run wildly through your mind, you promise to kick yourself later for doing something so dumb and reckless.

Without a second thought, you push a red button and an alarm goes off, followed by the slow opening of the metal door.

I have to enter The Glade.