Dilapidated buildings everywhere: overgrown with weeds, windows boarded-up, cracked and broken walls, faded and peeling paint. Smoke and dust fills the air, our everyday oxygen.
Hunger is our reality, water is our scarcity and survival is our fight. Harsh reality of being born in the Lower Class.
As I walk down the street filled with dead bodies and hungry residents, eating anything that seems to be edible. I see a familiar dilapidated building, not far away. It is my home.
I live there everyday with my mother. I walk through the damaged doors and start to climb the cracked stairs. I finally arrive on the only floor that seems to be habitable. My home is at the end of the hall.
I'm carrying 2 plastic bags in both of my hands which are filled with necessities I fought for with other hungry families. The blood on my hands and bruises on my face proving as evidence of the harsh reality we live in.
I unlock the door to my home and the familiar warmth engulfs me. The place is too small but its better than living outside. The faded yellow walls, peeling paint, and a single dim light bulb. A rickety table, and a rusty sink. A few tattered clothes hang from a makeshift clothesline, and a small pile of belongings is stacked in the corner.
And there lays my mother. On her death bed though the bed has died a long time ago. Her skin pale as snow, her body as thin as a pole and her lips as dry as the desert and as cracked as the walls. Her hair thin, its colour gone and her eyes shut. Her breathing so faint it sounds like she's taking her last breath everyday.
She never always looked like this. She used to be vibrant and beautiful among the people of dead souls. People here loved her but as she lost her glow, she lost her light in the eyes of others.
"Mom, I managed to get us enough water today. Clean water." I inform her as I unpack what I fought to get. Two loafs of bread, 1 kg of butter and jam each and 4 water bottles, each 2 liters. A smile spreads on my lips at how much I managed to get but it fades away as I receive no response from my mother.
"Mom?" Her eyes being shut wasn't new, and her stillness wasn't either, but one thing was – the faint breaths had stopped.
"Mom?" I called out again, hoping she'd answer. I knew her time was coming to an end, but I wished she'd seen me compete in the games, wished she'd come with me to the Upper class where she could receive healing and live the life she deserved.
A tear falls down my cheek but, I immediately wipe it off. With the remaining strength in me, I unfold the blanket that covered her lower body and covered her entire body. In that process, a necklace that was clutched in her hand falls beside her.
I look at the symbol on it and it looks familiar. I pick it up and go to the plastic bags that I was carrying and compare the symbol on them with the symbol on the necklace. They are the same. I look at the covered dead body of my mother. Questions start to pile up but no one has an answer for them.
As I helplessly lie next to her dead body. My eyes closing shut and clutching the necklace in my hand. The questions flow in my head: "What does this necklace mean? How does she have a necklace that seems to belong in the upper class? Did she ever go there? Was it her home?"
Three days pass and it is registration day for the game tournament. The 100-year-game that people around here call "a golden opportunity". My heart starts to race as I get ready to go register.
I wear my usual worn-out clothes - a faded black t-shirt, covered by my worn out hoodie, torn jeans, and scuffed boots that have been with me for what feels like an eternity. I clasp the necklace around my neck, hiding it under my hoodie. I look at my mothers dead body for the last time before leaving.
On my way to the train station where registrations are taking place, I see a crowd of people walking to the same destination I'm heading to. All for the same purpose. All to get away from this life including me.
We finally arrive and I join the long line of people who are here to register. As the line moves forward, the announcements of the guards guarding the train station doors become clearer and audible.
"Only people from the ages of 18 until 30 can register. You must also be in good condition." The guard announces again and again, repeatedly. The old man who can barely stand up straight next to me gasps. A lady in front of me who seems to be pregnant mutteres something out of anger. A little boy wearing no shoes next to the old man cries.
It is evident as to why they are angry but, unfortunately they knew there is nothing they can do about it.
After hours of standing in the line, I finally arrive in front of the train station doors where four armed guards stand. One announcing the conditions whilst the other looks at the people, the other standing directly in front of the train station doors, searching the us and the one in the middle, in charge of the registrations.
"Tilt your head to the side." I follow his instruction and he takes out an injection device that has a weird liquid and what seems like a small chip inside. Before I could comprehend what is happening, he places it on my neck and immediately injects the liquid. It happens so fast that I didn't feel it. My hand instinctively goes to the place where the needle was and I feel nothing. He looks at his laptop then looks at me.
"You may proceed. Next!" I walk to the guard at the doors. He roughly searches me then pushes me inside. I stumble a bit then walk to the train doors that are wide open. As I enter there are already people inside, sitting on the floors since there are no chairs or seats inside, only poles to hold onto.
I find an empty spot next to a man wearing no shoes. His feet bruised. His eyes staring at nothing. I sit next to him and look around.
The doors finally close as the remaing people including the guards enter the train. The train starts to move. I look around again.
Everyone is silent. All lost in their own thoughts. With one aim in their minds which is to win. But one thing is for certain. Only one of us is going to win.