I can feel goosebumps spread up my arms, but I’m not cold.

I’m sweating, struggling to keep myself steady.

My chest feels tight, and I’m light headed.

I try to ignore the fact that all of us are floating across the surface of the moon; the walls that confine us regulate an environment that keeps us alive.

I rest me head back, watching as the boy who sits across from me releases the contents of his stomach into a bag. The people beside him do their best to scoot or lean away from him.

I’m hoping my nausea doesn’t become stronger.

They’re screens at both ends of the train car, a women dressed in a uniform talks cheerfully, explaining what types of training we’ll be going through, but I can’t really make sense of it.
All I can focus on is trying to not let myself lose control.

My eyes scan the people around me, everyone has a different facial expression. Some people are composed while others cry, or try to hold back tears, and a few people look mad.

None of us planned to fight on Earth, but now we have too.

I don’t know how my training will go.

I don’t know how long it will be until I break down or how many times I’ll have to deal with crying in front of others.

I fear the future that awaits me once I step off this train.