Love is: A Battlefield

Chapter 1

The room didn't have much in it except for the usual stuff. Bed, a nightstand, and of course a mirror. There weren't any windows or any paintings hanging on the walls. I guess they didn't believe in room decorating. I didn't own a dresser because I only owned the grey jumpsuit they made us wear. It was washed once a week. We didn't do any extreme exercises, and they didn't want to waste precious resources like water. I wanted to see myself before they came in. I stepped closer to the mirror. In this lighting, you wouldn't have been able to tell I was fair-haired, but I was. My eyes didn't look navy either, they looked jade almost. My hair was in a side braid, but they would change that. They would change the clothes I was wearing, which was just my night uniform, into something extravagant. They wanted this thing to go off without a hitch. Honestly, the whole thing was a little barbaric. I wasn't some property they could sell, but that's what I was. I was a transaction. They used to tell me that I was going to make the United States of America united. To a ten-year-old, that sounded like a decent human being thing to do. Until I went to "class", which was just a bunch of men in fancy suits telling me how selfish I was. Okay, so I didn't let Krista eat my cookie back in kindergarten. However, if your mom made you special cookies, you wouldn't want to share either.

I sighed looking at myself in the mirror. I don't know what they saw in me. I wasn't exactly model material. I didn't hit any crazy height during puberty. My facial features were bland. They would always tell me that I had perfect eyebrows though. I was also underweight due to the food shortage. I never understand how a food shortage was possible after they fought off all the rebels. They must have slaughtered at least a few thousand people or more. It was all for the good of the country, supposedly. I wanted to believe them. If anyone was going to be able to take control of the chaos it would have to be the British. They were the only ones with the military force at the time. Plus, we had offended every other country by slandering their religion, disgracing them for different skin color, or just being completely rude. So, ten years ago, it wouldn't have been hard to hate us Americans. Especially, Canada. I never understood our hatred towards that country and vice versa. They didn't do anything except keep to themselves. They stayed out of most political standpoints. We didn't do a lot of import or export goods with them. We were like two sides of the same coin.

I looked at the clock in the room. It was nearly eight o'clock in the morning. They would be here any moment. I was supposed to be ready for lunch. Before I could think another thought, I heard a knock on the door. I don't know why they knocked. It wasn't like I could say no. I was their prisoner; a puppet on a string. They could tell me to kill myself and I would ask with what.

"Come in." I said as politely as I could.

The door flung open and a group of women walked in. I hadn't met any of these before. Most of them had auburn hair, while other girls had the same tint as mine. I never got a good look of their eye colors, they would always be moving too fast. I could tell that one was always in charge just by the outfit. It was nicer than the rest of the basic nineteenth-century house maid uniform. I never got to know their names since they weren't supposed to befriend me. While I was daydreaming, they had laid out all the necessities to get me ready for the day. The one in charge snapped her finger and motioned to the chair sitting next to a table full of make-up. I slowly made my way, but eventually, I was pushed by one of them.

"We don't have all day, 24601." One said with a huff. Yes, that's right. I'm a number. I haven't had a name for ten years. The number represents when they got you. Therefore, before me, they had already captured twenty-four thousand six hundred girls. At first, sure numbers make sense; easier to remember. No, it's easier to go on a spreadsheet on Excel, and it takes away our individuality, it takes away our purpose, our freedom. It's easier to control a large group like that once you've taken away the one thing they were living for.