The harsh buzzing marks the start of another day. Your breath is visible, its opaque white quality clashing against the dirty brown walls. The bed groans with you as you sit up, rubbing the little sleep that you got from your eyes. A uniformed man comes and escorts you and the other three in your room to the mess hall. Breakfast is the same as always- cold eggs, sour orange juice, and oatmeal that is just a little too lumpy. Looking around, you can see the other hundred or so boys in the camp, all…
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