https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1162055806/ : pt. 1 basic overview : mai is one of the supporting characters in the novel "unwind" by neal shusterman. this is her backstory from the past leading up until her death, written by me. i've added my own oc in this one. ☆ 6. I DECIDED TO ESCAPE. I wasn’t going to end up Unwound. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t let them slice me up and pass me out like leftovers. The day my parents signed the order, I started watching. Waiting. Listening for gaps in routine, cracks in the system. I didn’t sleep—I planned. When they came for me, I acted calm. Let them think I was broken. Numb. That made it easier to slip away. It was during transport, just before I arrived at the harvest camp. I picked the lock on the bathroom door while the guards argued about dinner. Slipped out a window. Landed hard. My ribs screamed, but I didn’t. I ran for the trees. I didn’t stop. Not when my lungs felt like fire. Not when branches tore at my arms. Not when I reached the riverbank and saw it. That rusted old barrel, half-submerged in mud. A deathtrap. A gamble. A chance. I climbed in, curled tight, shut the lid. Then I let the river take me. I thought maybe I’d die. Drown. Smash into a rock. But somehow I didn’t. Somehow the river didn’t swallow me. It carried me. Farther than I thought it would. Farther than I ever imagined I’d go. When I washed up—cold, soaked, shaking so hard I thought I’d come apart—that’s when I met her. Amina. She found me. Pulled me out. I remember the way her hands gripped my shoulders, strong but careful. I remember her voice—soft, low, but steady. Arabic accent thick around the edges, like a secret she didn’t bother hiding. “You’re safe,” she said. She lied. But I needed to believe her. We hid together for three days. Shared scraps. Stories. She told me about the school she wanted to go to in Cairo. About her brother who almost made it out. We both knew we didn’t have long. When they came, it was fast. Searchlights. Dogs. Shouting. We had seconds. “I’ll lead them,” she said. “You run.” I shook my head. “No—” But she was already gone. She sprinted toward the noise, flinging rocks, yelling, drawing every eye. I saw them chase her. Heard the gunfire. Watched her fall. I didn’t get to say thank you. Didn’t even get to whisper goodbye. But I ran. I ran with her name in my mouth, a fire in my chest, and my fists clenched so tight I left half-moons in my palms. I ran until my legs gave out. And when I finally found shelter in an abandoned train car, curled up beneath a ripped tarp, I promised myself something. I’d make it. For her. For both of us. ─────── 7. I DIDN’T TRUST HER AT FIRST. Sonia. Old lady with sharp eyes and a voice like she’d seen everything and didn’t care to be impressed by any of it. She found me half-conscious behind a dumpster, shivering and hungry, one shoe missing. I thought she was turning me in. I was ready to run. To bite. To die, if I had to. Instead, she handed me a granola bar and said, “If you eat like a feral cat, I’ll treat you like one. Sit up straight.” I don’t know why I listened. Maybe because she didn’t flinch when she looked at me. Maybe because her basement door opened—and I had nowhere else to go. She led me down into the dusty cellar... to be cont in part 3
