>I jump, my body moves but I feel outside of myself like someone else is in control of my movements. I don’t dare look at Dr. Thorne as I make my way toward the figure on the slab. I don’t want to take a chance of his stare burning a hole directly through me.

When I reach my destination, bile rises in my throat. Lying before me is a young boy no more than thirteen. He has a plume of short red hair and dark uneven freckles cover every part of his exposed body. His small, frail frame is in serious need of nourishment. He is so thin; it’s almost as if I can see right through him.

Does anyone outside of the workers in this Compound eat?

His eyes are closed. He could be sleeping; but I know better. Doing my best not

to gag, I slip the dark straps across the boy&...

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