A boy was told “Bleed for them and they will be yours”
Tossing in his sleep it comes to him. A day forever etched into memory. Mother leads them down the hallway. Was it a hospital? The walls were a sickly cream. His shoes squeaked on the cold laminate, dragging them with each timid step. Mother stops. Glancing up he see’s baby brother asleep against her breast, oblivious to the uniformed men the gates and the unease that permeated the waiting room in which they now stood.
Waiting room. Aptly named.