I remember my first riot. Everyone yelling and shouting about things I never really understood. I had joined it because my friend had asked me to. And she later died by being trampled by the Rioters. We call them this because they are always called in on riots. They don't care who they hurt, or die, in order to get to their goal.
Her face was strong. But that's just who she is. So since that day I made a promise to stay and be strong. Her death was not in vain. And I hoped that she would never have to go through things like that again. Thankfully that was one thing I could guarantee her.
But I was now in front of my own crowd. And I would never let a single one of my followers fall, or die. Because I knew that if one single one were to fall then they would fall and never get back up. My followers were the strongest of the Rebellion and had to be shown to the world as some of the strongest people in the world. We were strong. And we still do. Even though there is only five of us left. And we are in prison for "terrorism". We do not belong here. And we will escape. Because that's who we are. We are survivors.
