Home seems so distant. I can’t remember what anything looks like. The one thing I want to remember and it’s not there. Why was our freedom taken away? Why did this happen now? I don’t understand why everyone had to get involved. Mum and Dad. What did they look like? Where are they? I can’t remember anything from before the war, before I was known as “Convict Number 4873”.
What is the definition of a true convict? Honestly why a thirteen-year old boy would be trapped behind bars is unknown to me. There are so many others just like me. Trapped. No one knows what is to happen to us. I hear all kinds of noises, loud and horrific screams through all hours of the day. Only darkness surrounds us.
The soldiers yell at us in all different languages none that seem human. Some others that are here with me yell back. I want to know what they are saying but do not have the strength. After all this time I still have a speck of hope. I will make it out.