The Military Arena

Chapter 2: The Draft

We are required to wait in our houses for 24 hours as the drafting occurs. We can't go outside, to the store, even our porches are prohibited. So, me and my family wait in the living room. We have a bunch of board games set out on the table, but no one feels like playing. We don't even speak, but no one wants to be alone in their rooms. So, we sit in an awkwardness that you can almost feel weighing on your shoulders. We don't fall asleep. We stay up all night in complete silence. We watch as the sun rays enter our living room, and we can hear the birds start chirping.
A few more hours of silence before it's broken by a heavy knock on our door. We all turn slowly towards the door, then slowly turn towards each other. My dad gets up and opens the door agonizingly slow before a well dressed woman enters our house. She opens a book and flips through the papes. She stops suddenly and points her finger up and down the page she landed on and looks up at us. "Michael Serge" she announces in a firm voice. That's my name.
Adrenaline pumps so hard in my stomach it feels like insides burst. I have to use the bathroom, get a cup of water, and run a long distance all at once. She points at me and makes a gesture for me to stand. Then she says, "Follow me Mr. Serge." I slowly stand up and walk towards her. She grabs my hand and makes me stick out my finger. She pulls out a very weird thing that looks like a thermonitor that you would put under your tongue, but then she puts it on my finger and I feel a very sharp sting, when I look down there's blood. She draws my blood and puts it in a little box that has a bunch of other thermonitor-looking things. Each of them having a name and address neatly written on them.
They allow me an hour to say bye to my family. My family has never been big on words, so we exchange some goodbyes and hugs. After the hour of this awkward repetition of hugs and goodbyes the woman comes into my room and grabs my wrist for me to follow her. Her grip is strong and hurts a little. She takes me out of my house and I can see my neibors, all peering out their windows to see who this unfortunate kid is who got seperated from his family. Their faces have the looks of sadness, relief, and empathy. My friend's mom down the street holds her curtain close to her chest and waves to me. I go to wave, but then the woman urges me into the pitch black car with tinted windows. The driver then speeds off out of my neiborhood, which I will never see again.