"Single."
That is what they call me. I hear their taunts chasing after me when I walk home.
"Singles are always so ugly," "I'm so sick of their kind," "Can't wait to see her face on Lottery Day."
Lottery Day. It is fast approaching. God only knows what will become of me once it does. Mother and Father do not realise how lucky they are. To have been born in sets, as decent families ensure. Alas, in my family, it is only me. Single. Alone. Doomed.
It was seventy-two years ago that the decree was made. On Lottery Day, a day that occurs once every twelve years, a young person from the ages of ten through to twenty will be sacrificed from each family in our society, based on random selection. For the young person in the family who receives the 'Lottery Ticket', everything is unknown. They are whisked away with the rest of the sacrificed, to serve a 'greater good' as our leaders say. Only those with immense power know the true outcomes of the sacrificed young. Now Lottery Day looms before me and as a single, my only option is to accept my ominous fate.
It is 10am. The Lotto is here. I can remember how deeply I feared the Lotto the last time I saw them. I was just five years-old, watching, as the older boy Tom who used to play hopscotch with me was restricted and dragged across asphalt. The nightmare of who I truly am became apparent after that. They start with the houses on Blackberry Lane, and slowly progress. It is 1pm when I finally see my neighbour, Vera, being dragged out her house, her tearful parents watching on. I inhale. It is time. There is a tapping sound at the door. My father answers.
"Good afternoon, Mr Ashcroft, are your young persons accounted for?"
With a grave nod of his head, Father gestures towards me. Standing in the hallway with my ivory white dress, my throat begins to swell. I have had nightmares about this moment for years and now it is upon me, threatening to swallow me whole.
"Ah, Marie Ashcroft. A single." The Lotto man's smirk is conspicuous.
A few of the other Lotto members sneer, not bothering to hide their disparaging glances at my mother. Heat boils in my stomach. They know nothing of Mother's struggles, nor mine. Privileged Lottos. Even with the tediousness, the Lottos insist on following the same process with singles as they do multiples on Lottery Day. The young people reach into a goblet with a corresponding number of papers to number of young people in the family. Then, the young unfold their chosen piece of paper to reveal either a blank sheet or a heinous black dot. The dot is symbolic for sacrifice, thus the person who draws the paper with the black dot is the one sentenced to a mysterious exile. In a case like mine, where I am the only young person available, they repeat this process, despite knowing the outcome. The sadism of it makes me shudder. So, as the Lottos approach me with contempt in their eyes, snickers decorating their faces, I turn to my parents.
"Perhaps I'll see you in another life."
My mother begins to sob. I plunge my hand into the goblet and draw out the one and only piece of paper. The black dot greets me like an old friend. I smile wryly.
"Another single bites the dust."
They are upon me.
I do not recall being dragged out of my house, nor being thrown into a barred cell. I do recall this moment, as I bend my back over the springy mattress they left for me, crying out each time a spring digs into my skin. I force my eyes shut, willing the anticipation of what's yet to come out of my mind. What torture awaits me? My unsettling thoughts carry me into a disturbed sleep.
Thud. My eyes burst open. A boy wrapped in leaves stands at the foot of my mattress.
"I am Peter. I am here to rescue you."
