There's a turmoil brewing in this place. It cries, screams, and sobs in desperation. It didn't think it would plague lives for so long. And yet, here it is. Hiding in the recesses of the mind, it cries to be known or heard. But it can't be known. The government has made sure this turmoil lays behind a heavy fog. No one can see through it. No one can investigate it. No one can venture into it. If anyone dares, they will be shoved back where they started. For the rest of their lives, no thought of the risk they just took will ever enter into their minds again.
This is my world. There are thousands of us in the West Dolor Institute of Learning. The thousands of us are clones. All of us wear the same thing, walk the same way, and respond in the same manner. The idea of rebelling can't enter our minds. We can't leave unless there is a way to fight back. But there is always a light in the darkness. A light so bright that it can shine through the white mist.