Fever

They took us to the refugee camp. Well, they call it a refugee camp. It's more of a concentration camp really, but that's not a word that the 'friendly' guards who are there purely for our protection like to use. You don't need to surround refugees with razor wire and machine gun turrets.

I don't know where we are. I don't know if anyone outside knows we are here. I've no idea where my parents are, or whether they know about the outbreak. Whether they know I'm still alive.

I've been feeling weak and feverish over the past few days. the cuts on my face and shoulder won't heal. I tell myself it's just exhaustion or the flu. I pull my hair over my face to cover the cut on my cheek. It can't be happening to me.

I know what happens to people when they get sick here. They get dragged away by the soldiers. Or at least the lucky ones do...

Last week a man collapsed in the common area. They hacked his head off with a fucking bread knife. After it was all over, and the guards had broken the whole thing up, we found out he was diabetic and had lost his insulin.

We don't know what happens to ones who get dragged away by the soldiers. My guess is a bullet to the back of the head. You can see it in the eyes of the soldiers.

I never knew what a 1000-yard stare looked like until now.

Guess you learn something new every day.