When did it start? When did it start, exactly?

The miasma started as a whisper then turned into a cough, and the swell grabbed hold of whatever hands it could grasp. Small fingers clinging steadfast to their pillow, unaware of the storm that was brewing inside. It swirls in the brain, clicking connections into all the wrong places. Her heart races in the middle of the night, and her quick breaths suddenly slow. She is gone. Not dead, but gone. The young girl asleep on the bottom bunk is no longer herself. Something has her body. The eyes are open bright and wide. This monster, possessor, can see in the dark. Now nothing can hide.

But the little girl remains safe inside. She is resting, stuck inside a dream - unaware of the horrors that morning will bring. Unaware of the red – so much red – that the monster will make. But for now, she will sleep. She is the first. So they put her away.

I CAN FIX HER.

But you can't.

I JUST NEED TIME.

I will make time.

And so the scientist made time. And over time, came more children. The little girls and boys lined up in a row, each in their own bubble. As the sickness spread, so did the rows. But then they stopped.

Just as the miasma came, it went. The world moved on, not knowing what lie just underground.

But it was okay, because for now, the world is safe. The world doesn't have to know of this secret.

Time passed and the scientist grew older. The children watched her grow lines in her face, all the while they remained the same as the day they arrived.

Then one day, the scientist didn't come back. So, the children waited, each confused and isolated, stuck in their pods. Time passed. And passed. And the children felt tired for a sleep they could never have.

Then the men came.

They cut their bleached hair. They taught them how to walk again. They gave them identities. The children were finally free.

Until the night took them again.

They found a way to use the children's gift.

My name is Ami and I was the first.