The Alphabet, Prison, and the Teenagers in Between

Trauma is a way to connect. When you go through something, to state it simply, you suffer. When you go through something with other people, bonds strengthen. You grow closer to each other. Someone will always be there to pick you up and dust you off. But what happens when the trauma never stops and doesn't give time for that recovery? It's not exactly easy to help others when you're not strong enough to help yourself. Hope. That's what the teenagers need. The twenty-one teenagers who wake to find themselves in a massive and dull white room who they believe is a work of some foreign species. By aliens. It was just too unbelievably inhumane for mankind. But what if the true intentions behind everything are for the better good? What if there are reasons? But everything is nothing in this insipid room. There are no clues to dig into. Nothing to look at and inspect. As events increase by miles at a time in the horror-meter, the teens can't help but allow their hope, which only hangs on a thread, to shave itself thinner and thinner with each and every passing day. However, past all of the ungodly horrors of their new home, they know one thing as clear as ice; they need to survive. That's all they have to do. Except that it's the hardest thing to do. It's the last thing the officials expect them to do. Twenty-one teenagers. One giant box. An awful lot of fear. Madness. Hunger. And motivation driven solely by a burning desire for freedom.