Short Story Part 2

I woke up to the sound of a gun going off. Whoever caught the end of that shot probably wasn't feeling too much better than I was; today was the first day of school. A month had passed since tax collection day for youth. My hands still had bruises, this years' was especially brutal. 

I got dressed in the required black and white uniform; My black hair tightly restrained in a bun. Everything about this made me cringe, if you didn't know better you'd think originality was outlawed too.The school director made sure we all looked like sheep, physically and metaphorically. Yet no one ever seemed to notice, I seemed to be the only one with working eyesight. 

I made my way downstairs to our empty kitchen. Cold and barley light up by the small amount of light that shown through the windows. Everyone had left for work or school, and all that kept me company were two cold eggs and a glass of milk. Medical kits were stacked up on the table, looks like I'll be making runs tonight. With every school year brought protests, kids like me who gathered enough courage to make their voices heard. Although none of them ever made a difference, people never seemed to give up. I grabbed my backpack and ignored breakfast.