Lost Innocence by Simon Palmer - HTML preview

Most of the others had a bed-roll to sleep on; I only had the floor.

Bugs continued to torment me; it seemed they were waiting for me to sleep or die so they could feast on my body. I fought them off but it was exhausting and futile. Some sampled my blood while others defecated, leaving foul traces of their presence. My mind began playing tricks on me; it was as though even when they weren't there, I could still feel them crawling all over me.

A man with a faded tattoo of an eagle on his chest was holding a syringe and sucking something into it. He stuck a needle into his friend's arm, drew some blood, then combining the two substances, he injected the mix back into the emaciated arm; all the while his friend gazed, sickly into space.

After several long, drawn-out hours, the yelling subsided and I noticed most of the others trying to sleep. The thick fog of smog was beginning to clear and my fear began to yield to fatigue. As I closed my eyes, images of my family calmed me and for the briefest moment I had escaped. Amidst all this chaos, the thought of them may have been the only thing keeping me from going insane. I fell asleep.

A wave of guilt crashed down and woke me as I thought about my mother. It was her rule that this being the first time I was away, I would ring her every Wednesday. With all that had happened this week, I had forgotten to phone home.