The next phase

Intro

What would you do if you found out the date of your death? Would you count down every second until your last? Would you cherish every breath until your your lungs couldn't breath anymore? Would you live life to the fullest knowing you only had a certain number of days or would you live without a care in the world knowing you had more days?
Well, I cried when I found out. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore. I cried as I heard the mayor read off my results, I cried as I watched them carve my name, Skye Fall, into a grave stone, I cried as all of my fellow 13 year olds joined hands in the "celebration" of the next phase, I cried as they slammed my gravestone into the hard dirt of the cemetery, I cried as my parents drove me home with a dead look on there faces, I cried as I ate supper, I cried as I got into bed, and I cried myself to sleep.
Most of my friends and their families were out celebrating that night, to the fact that they had many more years to live, where as I sat in my room, alone, celebrating the fact that I was alive that moment. Although I didn't know how or where I was going to die, I knew that I was going to die January fourth, 2146 on my 17th birthday.
Most days I wish I had never found out that information. As I got older kids in my class used your due date (the day you were going to die) as a way to be "cool", comparing them to see who was going to live the longest (the ones who were going to live long were the "cool" ones) and as you can imagine I always lost that war. Because I was going to die young I was considered "strange" by many of my classmates, my teachers, and pretty much everybody who met me. This was because in my time, the world was as close to perfect as you could get. And one of the reasons was because pretty much everybody lived long and when they died they passed in a very humane way, So the fact that I was destined to die young made people infer that I was going to die in an inhumane way. Obviously this freaked me out knowing I might die from another person killing me. I mean who would ever do that? Nobody would. I mean... Would they?
I remember my next phase day like it was yesterday. I remember the clothes I wore, the cereal I ate, the walk to the Main building, the chair I sat in, the butterflies that fluttered in my stomach, The room that I entered, the devise they put me under, walking up to the stage, the news that the mayor spoke, all the staring eyes on me, the man who carved my name into my gravestone, the drive to the cemetery, the feel of my best friends hands in mine as we all stood in a circle, and finally the terrible sound of my gravestone being shoved into the ground.