Yearning

By Kirsty Nottage

I wake, cold and hopeless, surrounded by hundreds—maybe thousands—of others. The tunnel is dank, the walls slick with a creeping, foul ooze. Nobody notices.

My stomach growls—hunger gnawing at my insides.

When the others move, I follow. It’s safer than being alone. We shuffle through the bleak tunnels, groaning. I join in, not from pain, but a yearning to belong.

A child’s scream splits the silence. My heart aches. I want to comfort them, but they smell…delicious.

I wipe the blood, sticky and warm, on my filthy clothes, sated. I bite my lip, determined not to cry.