Chosen

The gravel crunched beneath my feet, the sound deafening to my ears. It took everything I had to move one foot in front of the other, knowing that it would not change anything. No matter how many steps I took forward, I knew that my life would continue to stand still. So why, I asked myself. Why did I keep going, when I knew nothing would change? When I knew nothing was going to get better.

From the moment I was able to dream about a better world, those dreams were crushed, like the gravel beneath my feet. Shattered into thousands of pieces, that I couldn't even begin to pick up. Sometimes I don't believe it. Sometimes, I believe that there is something out there for me. Something more. But I've learnt to suppress those fantasies, for dreaming has only brought me heartbreak and disappointment.

I remember the day I was told. My father had dressed me in my nicest clothes. The dress was made of cotton, rather worn, but still softer than anything I'd ever owned. He had said it was a special occasion and therefore, I needed to 'look the part'. I had been to several ceremonies throughout my life. Attendance was compulsory, after all. But this time was different. This time, my future was being decided. My fate was on the line.

I never understood why they didn't just tell our parents the moment we were born. It wasn't as if they didn't already know what our lives would behold. I guess, they wanted us to be the ones to hear it. To hear it ourselves. Maybe it was that they didn't trust our parents to tell us the whole truth. If I am being honest, my father couldn't be trusted with such a monumental piece of information. Knowing him, regardless of what my future held, he would probably have told me that I could do anything in the world. I could be anything. But it wasn't up to him. It isn't up to anyone but the Choosers.

"Are you ready, my love?" My father stopped walking and crouched down beside me. My eyes fluttered to the ground, unwilling to meet his gaze. Ill-Fate was genetic and my father, well...Let's just say that I don't have good odds. I don't have any odds if I am being honest with myself. My refusal to meet his gaze brought pain to his eyes. A pain I could see through my upper lashes as I carefully peered out from under them.

He let out a sigh, allowing his shoulders to fall in on themselves. It was as if, with that breath, he'd breathed out any will or life he'd had left. I wanted to take him in my arms and comfort him in the way my mother had used to. She'd always had a way of drying up your tears or bringing life and love back into your heart, simply by holding you. I wished for so long that I had inherited that gift from her. But I am the exact opposite, taking more after my father. Comforting those around me does not come naturally. It doesn't come at all. Just like my father, I prefer the solace of wallowing in my own self pity. I find it difficult to breath life into my own lungs each day, let alone others'.

We continued walking in silence, the gravel continuing to deafen me. It brought a quality of peace to my mind. After all, I couldn't think about what we were walking towards if my head was filled with noise, right? Wrong. The worries, the doubts, they continued to creep in. They slot themselves in between the gravel beneath my feet, creeping into my mind whilst hiding in the noise. These thoughts were buried in my head with a refusal to leave. They were a part of me and I hated it.

We both stopped walking and my father reached for my hand, the single gesture meaning more to me than he would ever know. I knew how difficult it was for him to show me affection, but staring at his open palm, it felt right to slot my hand into his, our fingers entangling. There were no words that could comfort either of us. All we could do is continue walking into the courtyard, hand in hand.

-

The remaining of the townspeople found their seats as the music begun. This music had haunted my dreams for the past month, always accompanied with the announcement. Always bad news. I stiffened in my seat as the trumpets sounded, silently wondering if I could sit still enough to become invisible. Looking down the rows of seats, I spotted a girl in my class who I knew was the same age as I was. I wondered whether she was as nervous as me. Just as the thought passed my mind, I saw her glance over at her mother with anticipation. Then, I remembered. Her mother and father work in the bank down the road from our home. There was no chance that she would be Ill-Fated. She was born from not one, but two Chosens. She had nothing to worry about. I, on the other hand, was shaking in my worn out, torn at the seams boots.

Fliss Adams. That was my name. They always call us out in alphabetical order, from A-Z. My name would be one of the first. They started calling them out one by one. I counted down the number of names before my own, having already looked at The List beforehand. When there were five names before me, my breathing halted and a piercing ring in my ears scattered my thoughts. I heard the faintest whisper of my name, but couldn't tell where it had come from. I slowly closed my eyes and as I did so, I began to shake furiously. Why was I shaking? I had no idea. I opened my eyes with fright to see my father shaking my shoulders.

"Fliss Adams." My name. They were calling my name. Rising from my seat, my legs moved me towards the stage, unwilling to let the numbness stop me from receiving my fate. As I walked up towards the Choosers, their smirks infuriated me. They enjoyed this. Enjoyed watching us suffer. Watching children be ripped away from their families or being sent to the outskirts of the city, never to be heard from again. They found amusement in our agony.

My feet continued moving one after the other, up the steep staircase and towards the podium. I'd never been on a stage before, but my stomach churned with unease. Looking out at the sea of people before me, I felt as though I might drown. "Hello, you must be Fliss." The woman before me was twice my size, a giant in comparison. I felt my knees buckle as her piercing eyes, ice blue, stared directly into mine. I opened my mouth to speak but my voice had vanished, much like my ability to walk. The woman directed me to the Choosing Podium. I had been standing on the Announcer's Podium; a truly humiliating circumstance to be in. Everyone knew the difference between the two. Everyone but me, of course. I had never been one to pay much attention to the ceremonies. I found them much too morbid for my liking.

My senses heightened as the crowd went silent. I could hear everything. More than I wanted to. I could hear the snickering of girls in the front. Those who'd already been Chosen, even if the paper was yet to be read out. Those who came from privilege and wealth, this ceremony just a blip in their otherwise perfect lives. I could hear the paper being unfolded, the edges opening up to reveal my fate. The woman unfolding the document did so as slow as she possibly could. It was agonising. Why did she have to prolong the inevitable? Prolonging only made it harder. With the clearing of her throat, she spoke.

"Fliss Adams."

"Chosen."

-

My breathing halted and I stumbled backwards off the podium. The ringing was back only it was louder and pierced not only my ears but my entire mind. This had to be a mistake. A cruel, twisted joke. I was Chosen. This wasn't possible. I mean, it couldn't be possible. I felt someone grasp my arm and pull me offstage but my eyes could not concentrate on their face. My eyes would not tear away from him. They would not leave the gaze of my father, his eyes widened with disbelief, much like my own. My father. My Ill-Fated father. He was in the audience and I had to reach him. I had to say goodbye.

I yanked free of the person's tight grasp with determination, my body filling with adrenaline. I had to reach him before it was too late. Before I had to leave him. This wasn't fair. It had never happened before; not in the time I had been alive. But I knew how this would go. And I would not concede. I would say goodbye to my father and no one could stop me. My heart pounded to the drum of my feet on the pavement, each step being followed my countless others behind me. They were trying to catch me but I couldn't let them. If I didn't succeed, this would be the last time I would get to see him. The last time I would get to see anyone I knew and loved.

I was so close. I outstretched my hand, pleading for my father's comfort, craving it. I was so close, yet so far. Too far. Before I could gasp another breath, my head hit the pavement and the world went black.

The light was blinding. My eyes flittered open with difficulty, regulating the light shining into them. My head hurt like it never had before, the pulsing pricking tears in my eyes. Reaching up to check for any bleeding, I was drawn to the sleeve of my shirt. It was brighter than anything I'd ever seen. White. It was pure white, the colour of snow. I had never seen something so beautiful. But why was it on me?

I sat upright immediately, attempting strenuously not to notice the pounding in my head. The whole room was the colour of my sleeve. White. It was almost blinding, for I had never seen something with this magnitude of gloss. This level of shimmer. The walls looked as though they could have been made of sunlight. "Fliss?" My head swung around to the direction of the voice, a woman appearing behind me as if from thin air. "Where am I? Who are you?" My voice was raw as if I'd been screaming. Had I been screaming? My heart began to quicken in pace. This place was foreign and I craved familiarity like my lungs craved air. My lungs screamed for air that was caught in my throat as the fear overtook my body. The woman remained calm and unfazed, unaware of the monster brewing inside of me, ready to be unleashed. And then, I remembered.

I, Fliss Adams, am a Chosen. I, Fliss Adams, am no longer on the outskirts. Suddenly, everything became clearer. I was no longer in the outskirts but in the center of the city. I was in The Tower. The Tower is the birthplace of our system of government. It is in this very tower that each citizen's fate is decided at birth. I had remembered seeing this place before, on the exterior. The Tower gleamed white from top to bottom, and could be seen from any vantage point across the city and outskirts. And suddenly, this place no longer seemed foreign. Not in location at least.

"Fliss?" I turned to face the woman again, her face remaining rigidly set with a calm, serene expression. "Yes." My voice was regaining its strength. "Welcome to The Tower Infirmary. Your presence is requested by Leader Ganbey." Leader Ganbey. The elected leader of our city. What could he possibly want with me? Of course. I was an anomaly. A glitch in the system that he needed to examine.

I remember the stories as a child. Ill-Fated parents bear Ill-Fated children, just as Chosen parents bear Chosen children. However, the stories tell of the individuals whose genes do not match this algorithm decided upon by The Choosers. For a moment, my stomach dropped with fear. The stories about these exceptions to the rule never had endings as a child and, I wondered, was it because children's stories cannot have unhappy endings? Was my life about to end? I wouldn't put it past our government, who are known to remove any threats to our way of life. The fear dissappated rather quickly as I remembered something my mother used to say. The only person who can change your fate is you. She had told me to never repeat it, for it went against our whole way of life. Fate wasn't meant to be decided by us. We had no control over it. But somehow, my mother seemed to disagree. And with that memory, came the strength to face Ganbey, knowing that I had control over what would come next in my story.

Following this woman down the halls, I felt discomfort at the humanity she lacked. The humanity that this entire place lacked. It was so sterile. So institutional. As we approached a doorway, I looked the double doors up and down. They were unexpectedly intimidating. I had never thought I could be intimidated by a door, yet here I was. The doors opened with one swift motion and there he was. Leader Ganbey. His white hair sat in wisps upon his head, the only indication in his appearance of his old age. With the exception of his white hair, he was rather handsome, I'd thought. My mother always used to think so.

"Ah, Miss Adams. It seems you have caused quite a ruckus, haven't you?" I clutched my hands together, the events of the ceremony gradually coming back. I knew what he wanted to hear; what all authorities wanted to hear. "I am very sorry, Leader Ganbey. My behaviour was inappropriate, but I was acting out of confusion. You see, I don't come from a Chosen family. I was sure there had to be some mistake." He let out a sigh and walked closer to me, pacing himself almost as if in an attempt not to frighten me. It didn't work. All I saw was a lion carefully creeping up on his prey. "This is quite an interesting situation, but I assure you, not one that we take lightly. This has happened before and we have strict protocols in place. Would you like me to explain them to you?" I was sure that this would be the moment I would die. His eyes said it all. With a gulp, I slowly nodded. It was time to receive my fate for a second time, but this time, I wasn't holding my breath.

"Your genetics have not been altered, Fliss. You are genetically your parents' child and therefore, should be Ill-Fated. However, a small number of our population - including yourself - do not fit into this plan that we have for our society. The reasoning for this is that your fate is not determined by your genetics, but by your mind. And please don't misunderstand me, Miss Adams. Your mind is a very powerful tool, but can also be dangerous to yourself and those around you. Therefore, our system in place for these situations ensures our Choosers remain in control of your fate through making a unanimous decision to declare your fate based on genetics, rather than the test."

I gasped for air, realising that I had not been breathing the entire time he spoke. My mother's words echoed in my mind. She was right. I was in control of my own fate. And yet, I had no control whatsoever. I would return to my father on the outskirts as if nothing had ever happened. It felt too easy. Too simple. This didn't feel like the end, but yet it was.

Ganbey walked me to the door and wished me well, with a tone that was much to friendly to be authentic. His eyes seemed vacant, as though he was occupied with a much more engaging thought than my farewell. This felt wrong, yet it felt wronger to question it. My mind was not safe in my leaders' opinions, yet they were releasing me back into the community? The way my mother had said that sentence, it had never sounded foreboding. That was, until now. My mind was blank and my body numb, as the same lady walked me down to the lobby and outside into the cool autumn air. I couldn't tear my eyes off of hers. Her serene expression had vanished and was replaced with deep concern. She seemed concerned for...me.

Before leaving me to return home, the woman lingered. I knew I should have walked away and gone back to my father. To my home. But my mother's words guided me. I was in control of my fate. I was in control of the way this moment could go. I took a step closer to the women, worry plaguing my face. We held each other's gaze for a moment too long before the woman leaned down carefully, stopping when she was in line with my ear. With a whisper, almost too quiet to hear, my world stopped. One word. One warning that said everything I needed to hear. This wasn't the end. It was only the beginning.

"Run."