Finding Mr. Right

Its Like The Hunger Games

MEGAN

Things are different in America now then they were years ago. Not many states do what we do, but we were the first to start it. When you're born and your parents name you and you have your skin to skin contact with your mom and everyone in the room stares at you in awe, the doctors enter all of your information into a database and some random person that works for the government plans your future. They find you a job, a school, and classes. When your parents are done having their alone time doctors come and take you and clean you up, while someone who works for a government comes to your parent's hospital room that you were born in and tell them all of the information that someone else from the government had just typed up and figured out - and you're set. Your schooling is based on the job that the government official picked for you, which you have no say in. Some states believe that you should choose who you fall in love with, and who you marry; but not us. They start you off when you're 10. They scan your hand and generate it and within a few days - or weeks - the computer finds you a 'perfect match', but they hold it to themselves until you hit 18. If you think that's odd, it gets better.

They also tell you not to get too attached to someone when you're young, because it's tricky. The chances are extremely slim that the person you date before you turn eighteen is your match, and if they are you're that lucky two percent of the worlds population. As for me, my parents wouldn't let me date, though I didn't fret, because I didn't really find interest in anyone. What we do is like the hunger games, without the killing.

My name is Megan. I'm 18, and currently on my way to the Match House. I feel as though love shouldn't be forced. You never know if the computers are accurate, or if you don't find that person appealing and you'll be miserable your whole life. One thing I forgot to mention, you get married after you're done in the Match House. Divorces aren't allowed, and you're pretty much forced to live together. In most cases, people fall in love with their match.

I, on the other hand, just wanna get this all over with. I like to say that after high school, you're pretty much screwed. Your life is basically controlled by the state. Some people flee the state. It's kind of smart, because some states have these laws where the state you fled can't come and get you. There's only a few like that though.

I cut my thoughts short as the driver came to a stop. A big gate opened and he drove in. A stared in awe as we drove by lots of trees and bushes and stopped in front of a mansion. Yes, a mansion. Big for 10 people, aye?

I took a deep breath and kissed away my freedom before opening the door and stepping out of the car. I feel as though my apparel is too revealing. What am I saying, most of my apparel is revealing. I blame my parents. They didn't want me looking like a slob in front of my future husband. Please, it's not like I have to look like a tramp. He has to marry me wether he likes it or not.

I grabbed my things out of the trunk before I made my way up the stairs. I was clenching the small keychain in my hand, which was soaked with sweat. I released my suitcase for a brief moment and fumbled with the key, trying to figure out how I was going to get a grip on it with these nails. I finally figured it out and slowly unlocked the door. I took another deep breath before stepping in and shutting it behind me. I didn't bother locking it, I'm sure I'm not the last person here. I think I might actually be the first.

"This is my room!" A girl shouted from upstairs. Maybe not. I made my way up the stairs and the yelling grew louder.

"Uh, everything okay here?" I asked when I approached a room where two blondes seemed to be screaming at each other. Both of their heads snapped to me.

"Tell this imbecile to get out of my room!" The one on the left shouted.

"Your room? I was here first!" The one the the right yelled back. They then began to yell at each other again.