A Night to Remember
     Tears stream down my face. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not like one of those other girls whose face scrunches up and they sob their eyes out. No, that wasn’t me. I stand there straight faced with a look of pride in my wet, teary eyes. Those eyes looking straight into the barrel of my death, wishing that I was just born like everyone else. Wishing that I wouldn’t die for something that wasn’t my fault.

     I wake up, rub my now sore eyes, and stare blankly at the ceiling. A dream? I wonder blankly, feeling sore from yesterday’s track practice. Coach can be pretty killer sometimes. I get up and drag myself to the bathroom to start my old day, rubbing my eyes once again. Oh great. I slept in my contacts. I said to myself, now realizing why my eyes hurt so badly.
     I look into the mirror as a shock wave of horror jolts frantically through me like lightning. Where is it! Where is it! I race straight to my bed and throw back covers and rub my hands over my pillows searching for it. I could feel tears willing up in my now even more sore eyes. Come on. Come on. I must have lost it in my sleep. A giant wave of relief rushes over me as I feel the soft squishy plastic slide under my frantic fingers. Found it, my contact. I walk over to the bathroom mirror.
     The mirror is about the size of a whole wall. They have to make them that way so that the other girls could use it at the same time. We all have to live together and keep our secret together and keep our secret together so that the Polizei don’t catch us.

     I can’t help but feel resentment as I look in the mirror. It’s not that I don’t like how I look. My hair is the perfect shade of blonde with the natural highlights of the sun; my cheekbones are starting to show now that I have matured, but the thing that truly makes me wish I was never born is the one eye that’s showing, my hazel eye that boasts a brilliant green trim along its edge. I sigh to myself. That was close. I know how hard it is to get hold of blue contacts nowadays. They are, after all, illegal, ever since Hitler won during World War II.
     The old coot thought that he’d won when he wiped out the Jews, but it takes more than a little firepower to keep every “imperfect” person from doing what they do best, staying alive and breeding. (More so breeding than staying alive.) That is, where I came from and everyone else in this Hellhole. Because of him, I can’t even speak my mother’s language or leave the house without proper precautions. In fact, because of him, my mother is dead.

     I still can’t believe I got caught. The Polizei to my sides grip my arms hard.
     “Watch it!” I yell out in my native tongue, too infuriated to bother to translate for their tiny little manipulated brains. “Seien sie ruhig!” the one to my right yells back, obviously not caring to translate for me either, despite the fact that I knew what he ment. He was telling me to shut my pie hole. “Hässliches altes weib,”  the Polizei to my left murmurs under his breath, tightening his grip.
     They’re wrong though, the real hässliches altes weib is the one that got me into this mess. Ugly hag. Traitor.

     School was progressing like normal. Every other clone around me did what was normal. History class seemed especially bad today for some reason. They talked about Hitler again. I wonder why they never teach very far behind what happened in the 20th century. They talked about how he made our world as pure as it is today by the slaughter of millions upon millions of Abfalls, or in my native tongue, outcasts.
     My so called friend, Elisabeth, turns to me and gives me a funny look. “You seem a little down. Did the Polizei take a few more of your friends away?” she sighed sarcastically, using my native tongue as a way to embarrass me.
     I always wondered if she knew who I really was. I know that she knew that I helped the Abfalls, but did she know I was one of them? Probably, but despite the fact that she was super annoying, she would never rat me out. I don’t think she’s that way, is she?

     It’s after school and I’m walking with Elisabeth down the street to my hiding spot. Elisabeth is babbling on in German about a cute guy she met the day before and… oh my God, no.
     A wanted sign for Abfalls that were discovered in the city is posted on the brick wall of a building. My building, with my picture on it. “What is it?” Elisabeth asks, in her own language, with a not-so-genuine touch of worry. She turns her head toward the sign and looks back at me with a look that shows nothing but complete and total malice, followed by a proud sneer and I swear, I can see money signs burning in her eyes.
     I know what is going to happen next. She is going to start talking in my language to suck up to me, the she’ll scream for help. “don’t worry, I’m sure the way they’ll kill you won’t hurt too badly. You know, I heard that the shotgun was defined as the quickest and most painless way to kill outcasts now.” I hate the way she said outcasts in my language. It made me want to puke, but that’s not what I’m worrying about now. My life the way it is now is over. So much for being a senior. So much for living a life in secret. So much for it all. I’m going to have to live in hiding for the rest of my life, until I’m found out and slaughtered like the rest. Killed, because my eyes are hazel.

     “Hilfe!”
     The word shoots through me like the bullet to follow. I have no choice but to run now. I know that they always have Polizei on the streets just for the reason people like me exist.

     My fate must now be met, here in the red building on the outskirts of town, where the cries of those waiting for their own fate won’t be heard by the innocently spoiled, blonde-haired, blue-eyed people of the city; where my cries can’t be heard. Then again, my cries can’t be heard by anyone right now. Why? Because there is no way I will lose my dignity just because my ancestry was discovered. I keep my sadness to myself.

     The gun seems so far away from me. Is it because the people giving me my death don’t want to be stained by me Abfall blood? No, it must just be my imagination.
My vision remains blurred by my silent tears, but I can still see my death’s token arrive slowly, dreamily towards me. It looks so innocent, like delicate metal feather that decided it wanted to land on my nose.

     Fear. Pain. Darkness… Light?

     I sit up quickly in my bed gasping for air and grasping my head. A gaint light shows through my window. The Sun? No, a nearby streetlight.
     A dream? Suddenly I can’t help but laugh. A dream! A dream! It was only a dream. That’s what I get for cramming the night before a History exam!