I hope it resonated with you. I hope it guides you.

I hope you find a place to rest. I promise I’ll remember you.

Fifteen

Grace

I carry two lists of names with me, everywhere I go. On the first: Serenity, Aleesha, Walker, Chloe. On the second: Leah, Isabella, Jeremy, Faith…

Mei.

She came down with it this morning. She made it to the garden, where she collapsed.

Walker Green went to sleep and never woke up. Emerson and Casey carried him out. I don’t know what we would do without the two of them. And at least I can talk to Casey from a distance. Emerson speaks, but they don’t let anyone get close.

It’s been only two weeks since Reid was shot. It feels like a lifetime. In more ways than one, it has been lifetimes.

I grab the kitchen knife from under my mattress and strap it to my belt. With my toe, I nudge the shards from a broken cup to the corner of the room. I had coffee in my room to figure out the work lists when Emerson came to tell me about Walker. It was the only thing at hand I could break.

We do what we must to survive. Especially since there’s still no word from anyone at Better Futures, despite Isaiah emailing and calling them. Several others have asked family members to reach out too, but it’s the same voicemail every time. And no one can come get us here.

As for other options, they’ve all proved fruitless too. No one trusts the Department of Human Services enough to reach out to them. The outside world could not care less about what happens here. They consider us difficult at best and worthless at worst. So we have to take care of ourselves.

When I edge out of my room, Sofia is leaning against the door of Aleesha’s now-empty room. She’s dressed in her work uniform, her hair cut short, a scarf tied over her nose and mouth. We’ve shared the same wing for years and never really talked. Not beyond forced, perfunctory words in group therapy.

She was convicted for assault. Like me, I think she did it. We’ve all got stories, haven’t we?

We’re the only ones left here now.

“Took you long enough,” she says, by way of greeting.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“All the more reason to get up earlier.”

I don’t dignify that with a response. Truth is, I spent most of the night awake, staring up at the ceiling. The same two lists of names running through my head, while the narrow bed felt lonely and too big.

It’s not like I can get close to Case now, and I’d never admit it, but I miss his touch. I miss human touch, period. I’m starving for it. We’ve cut down on rations, to be on the safe side, but it means my stomach is constantly growling, and my skin is yearning too.

“Are you certain you want to do this?” I ask. Sofia is pale and has dark circles under her eyes.