Labeled

Being Labeled

I hate it. People can look around. They can dig through my brain and most treasured memories, just because of a stupid thing above my head. Labels are what they are, the government doesn't call them that though, they call them something like Insignias. I don't know. I am not a big supporter of the government like some of my neighbors. I hate my Insignia, I hate when people ask about my memories. Like the time when my parents died, the government altered the screen to show them dying because of a fire, that isn't what happened. It isn't what happened at all. First of all the government tortured and killed my parents, they wanted to know what my parents knew about their secrets. My parents wouldn't tell the government, that is how they died. The government, they forced me to watch all of it. All the blood, all the pain. Now the government hates me, I was their test subject for the Insignias, they played with my brain like it was a funny game.

I looked up from my book due to a knock at the door. I hide my book as I stand, because books aren't allowed anymore. It's a stupid law. I sauntered over to the door, expecting it to be a prank of the littlies. They do that a lot, but I never did when I was their age, kids these days... I think before opening the door. I was off by so much, there was no littlies splattering paint everywhere, their Insignias bright yellow to show their happy mood. It was the securitas urbanae cura, our police. I smiled thinking good thoughts so my own Insignia would be calm. "Hello sirs," I said politely as possible, nobody knew how much I hated these people. Infact the officer standing directly in front of me is the same man who took my parents and tortured them. I had no friends, only one person would like me after what these people told the community about me. That one person, my best friend, was Emma. She has a similar past to mine, the government killed her parents, and then her older brother right after, and guess what! She had to watch it all unfold. We both hate the government, but we love each other. "Would you like to come in, have something to drink?" I ask my smile not wavering even though my hate burns deeply in my heart.

"No." Is all the officer answers. I read his tag, officers do not have Insignias, they only have name tags. We are told it is for the greater good, but I know better, the government doesn't want to leak information. The tag reads: Σαμουήλ. It's in Greek. All our writing is, all of it. In an old language, they don't want outsiders knowing about us. Only our Insignias aren't in Greek. Why, I don't know. Maybe the Insignias change when outsides are looking. "We need to search your house." Σαμουήλ says, I read the tag once more, the greek translates to Samuel.

"Uh, why?" I ask still smiling brightly.

"We have reasons to believe that you were part of committed crime, and we can't have people panicking, now can we?"

"I guess not, but I swear I didn't do anything. What crime was committed?"

The officer just stared at me giving me the 'I know you know because you did it' look. Then he walked forward and pulled a gun out of his pocket. He brought it up and aimed the weapon at my forehead.