The curling iron is warm against my cheek. It doesn't burn, though; Nurse is always careful not to let it touch my skin. But I can still feel the heat radiating off of it as she twirls it through my shoulder-length locks.

"Nurse?" My voice is hesitant. She's been styling my hair for at least ten minutes now, but I've been too afraid to ask why. She never does this, even though I know she knows I like when my hair is wavy and voluminous. "What's all this for? Is there a special occasion?"

My eyes flick around the common room, where I spend my time in-between meals and scheduled outings. Some of the other children are in here, too. Nurse looks after us all as if we're siblings and she's our mother, but we're not and she isn't. We all have different mothers... But we don't know them. The last time I saw the woman who gave birth to me was twelve years ago-- the day I was born. It's her job to procreate, I'm told, but only so often. The Republic is careful not to worsen the overpopulation, but I guess they still want more babies just in case anything crazy happens.

But I'm not too worried about it. It's just grown-up stuff.

The kids around me look, well, sad. Most of them are my age. I grew up with them, but I don't know their names. Actually, none of us have names at all. We get to have our names after midday, when the grown-ups decide where we live. The naughty ones get sent out to Zbyrada, which my friends say is so horrible, even demons are too scared to go there. Nurse tells me that if I behave, which I do, I'll be safe. So, yeah. The good kids - like me - are allowed to stay in Natanya. It's safe here. I really do like it.

A chill runs through me, despite the warmth of Nurse's styling tool and the common room's toasty atmosphere. My eyes have met hers in the tall mirror before me, and they're clouded with something dark. "Nurse? Is something wrong?"

And just like that, the shadows leech from her eyes and she looks like normal again. The shallow wrinkles along her cheeks suddenly look less frightening, and her dusty blonde hair less withered. "No, dear. Nothing. Only, I understand you love to dress up and curl your hair, so I've done just that for you."

She takes a step back, fluffing the ends of my hair with her slender hands. I stare back at myself in the mirror, taking in my appearance. She's right; I do love a bit of glamor. But I can't shake an eery feeling, like there's something she isn't telling me. "Promise?" I squeak, struggling not to make eye contact with any of the shadowy-faced children behind me.

Nurse separates her thin lips to respond, when a synthetic crackling sounds from above us. I'd recognize the noise anywhere: It's the announcement system. Which means there's a message for us from the Police Commander.

My heart begins slamming against my chest the moment I hear whimpers and sniffles from around me. I spin, knocking over my little stool in the process. Nurse shuffles towards the door.

"Attention. Attention, please," says the intercom. His voice is slow, monotonous, his words drawn out. "This is Police Commander Addyrak. Faction governors, this is your first and only warning for the commencement of the yearly Midday Ceremony. It is 11:22 A.M. At this time, escort all eligible children to Central Plaza. This is an order. Insubordination charges will be brought against any governors - and their corresponding birth departments - who fail to attend this event. You have precisely thirty-five minutes; tardiness is inexcusable, as you know." A pause, and then he delivers the country's familiar motto of unification: "For tomorrow".

Relief washes over me. This isn't so bad. I don't see why Nurse and my peers are so shaken. Don't they see how simple this is? We've all been told for years that our chances of being allocated to Zbyrada are nonexistent.

"Come, children. Single-file, please." Nurse is ushering us around, her gentle hands guiding those of us who have come to tears. Her voice suddenly drops to a hurried whisper as her eyes meet mine from across the room. I still haven't moved since I heard the announcement. "Honeydew," she grimaces, gesturing me towards her.

I love that nickname, but nobody else can know about it. I'm not even allowed to have a nickname in the first place, let alone a real name. Nurse says it's our little secret, and it is so very exciting to have a secret here.

"Yes, Nurse?" I blink up at her as I approach, taking in my surroundings for the last time. Never again will I see the creaky old stool with the reddish cushion, or the main carpet riddled with stains of fruit and jam. This is it. I'm going to be given a new home! I hope the family they assign me is nice.

Who am I kidding? Of course they'll be nice. I'll be given my very own bedroom, complete with silky curtains that let in just the right amount of light, a lavish bedspread, and shelves bursting with adventure sagas. Best of all, I'll probably be enrolled in a fancy academy where I can learn a trade. The thought alone brings a smile to my face, joy blossoming in my chest. The Republic has done so much for us.

"Listen, Honeydew. Will you listen to me for a moment?"

I nod emphatically, fighting back tears as I realize this might be one of my last conversations with her.

"Whatever happens, wherever they-" Her words are cut short by a sharp rapping at the door. We both whip around to see that the line of children is gone, and a Police officer stands there instead.

"Let's go." His voice is curt. Intimidating. "Don't keep the Commander waiting."

Nurse swipes a hand under her eyes, like maybe she was crying. Guilt clutches my heart at that. I hate that she's so upset about my leaving. Maybe I'll have time to reassure her on our trek to the Plaza. She snatches my hand hastily, guiding me out the door. We wind through the corridors of the facility in silence, knowing the guard is just a few yards behind. Although privacy would be nice, he makes me feel so safe. The Police force is exactly what our people need.

* * *

Betrayal.

It's a new emotion. I'm not used to it.

But betrayal is crowding my lungs. It's breathing my oxygen, taking it all away. I know this because I can't breathe anymore.

I can't breathe anymore because all the other children are standing over there, and I'm standing over here. Not standing, though. I'm being dragged. Dragged away from them. Hundreds, thousands of pairs of eyes are on me. They're so striking against the cool grey stone of the Plaza. Green, blue, brown, hazel, all with black pupils. I've never hated eyes as much as I hate them now.

My rear end slides uncomfortably against the ground. It hurts it hurts it hurts. My legs are thrashing up and down and left and right, feet slamming into the pavement.

At least they work. My ears don't work so well. Someone must have stuffed cotton into them and maybe I swallowed some of that cotton too because my screams are raw and choked and I feel like nobody hears me. If they do, they don't care.

Why should they? I'm bad. I'm a bad girl.

I'm so bad I forgot about Nurse. How could I forget her bloodied form, a giant red blotch across my vision? They left her on the dais in front of everyone. An example, they said, for what happens to those who conspire against the government.

Her mangled body is like the big red spot on Jupiter. Jupiter is a planet, if you didn't know. I wouldn't have known if Nurse hadn't told me. I guess she won't tell anyone ever again.

Commander Addyrak is glaring at me from across the arena. I take a ragged gasp of air and everything clears out. I can hear again. I don't know why I expected an uproarious commotion among the spectators, because all I can hear is my own screams. And it's so much worse.

Addyrak opens his mouth, his body shrinking into the distance along with everything else. I'm being dragged far, far away. "For tomorrow," he says, sliding the gun he used to murder Nurse into its holster. I feel sick. I don't hold back.

My scraggly body is tossed over the threshold of a vehicle. Metal grinds on metal and I'm locked in. I don't even need the guard to tell me where I'm going, because I already know. I know the answer despite years of false surety that I'd be safe from this fate. I was foolish-- I know that now.

Zbyrada always seemed like a faraway place, a fantasy, a folktale told to children to keep them in line. But after what I just saw, I feel confident I am no longer a child. Where I'm headed, innocence will get me killed... But I'm already dead.

***

I wish I realized sooner that Zbyrada isn't a nightmare. It's hell.