Celeste
When the truck lugs to a stop there are whispers, gasps, and screams. Emily presses herself closer to me. All I can focus on is the incessant stinging of my wrists. For the first time in my life I wish I was a human so the silver did not continue chemically reacting with and eroding my skin. It feels like acid being poured over open wounds. Every time I tried to close my eyes and rest during transportation the pain would become acute because there was nothing else to focus on.
The engine stops running, the monotonous vibrato ceasing. Women begin moving to the back of the box, adhering to the wall and to each other, forming a large, tumorous mass galvanized by shared fear. Emily urges me to stand and join the others. She utilizes her head and feet to help me stand, leading me to,
