Clenching my teeth, I force myself to appear calm as I cross the main square. My unease is not due to the large numbers of Officials patrolling the perimeter who I usually go out of my way to avoid, instead, the cause is a large metal platform erected in the middle of the square.

The large solid metal square frame towers above the crowd. It glistens in the sunlight attracting your attention; dragging your eyes towards it no matter how hard you resist. Like now, my gaze can't help be drawn to the thick beams from which numerous bodies sway, women and men, all in different stages of decomposition.

The first dangling carcass is a man wearing a contraption which looks like a pair of bulky metal knickers. I've named it 'The groin tenderiser' because what isn't visible to the onlooker are the large spikes which pierce the victim's skin as it is secured and bolted on. Beneath the man's hanging body is a large dark red stain on the platform floor marking his slow exit from life. His face is swollen and mutilated by death, his markings merge with the mottled purple and black skin indicating he's been hanging there for a while. The eyes bulge out their sockets and his tongue protrudes like a thick black slug desperately trying to escape the rotten corpse it has been trapped in. Punishment: A convicted adulterer.

A woman swings next to him, her hand gently brushing his. Her uterus hangs between her legs, dangling like a puckered purse, moist pink with tinges of yellow. Waxy, pale green-hued skin encases her stiffened body. She still looks quite fresh, a passerby could almost confuse her death for sleep if they didn't look below the waist. The markings on her skin are visible, showing she was young, 17 years old- an engagement seal is present. Punishment: An abortion.

Possibly pregnant by her lover, her fiancé or raped, we will never know and the Officials do not care. The reason behind her action is not considered. They cannot be victims, only criminals. Punished and made an example of. It's a warning to us all.

The first capital punishment I'd witnessed was in another town, one I can't remember the name of. At nine years old it had been my first week collecting and delivering to our customers alone. My mum decided I was old enough to venture out alone so she promptly thrust the role of delivery girl onto me.

Riding my bicycle, I'd noticed the gathering of people in the main square as I rode through the small town. Intrigued I'd ventured towards the front, only to be confronted with a woman bound to a platform by a strange contraption which secured her neck and ankles together, causing her to be bent in an awkward position. Focusing on her, I then noticed she had no hands. They'd been cut off, blood flowed as a quiet continuous cry escaped her mouth.

The silent still crowd watched her die. I didn't cry or whimper. I simply stood and stared, not understanding what was happening but thinking there must be a reason, she must deserve this. Why else would the Officials justify such an act while the crowd stood by in support if she was not guilty? If she had not brought this upon herself? I'd asked the person next to me what had she done. He responded 'She is being punished for making a mistake in a cruel unfair system and her punishment is a warning for us all.' His words made no sense and the low mutterings of agreement from the surrounding people confused me. It is only now I comprehend his words: Do not expect to be allowed to learn from your mistakes, your faults will be punished, second chances are not given.

I snap myself to the present and my eyes quickly scan the rest of the bodies. Partly to see the harsh punishments given before being hung up to die and partly to see if there's anyone like me. The answer is always no. There are no Unmarkeds. There never are.

The hot weather encourages swarms of flies to hover around the bodies which ripple and squirm with maggots devouring the contents. The hanging corpses are kept on display for as long as possible, until the revolting stench becomes too unbearable.

All death penalties are televised, in case the local hanging platform is not on your everyday route. The Final Judgement Channel runs twenty-four hours seven days of the week showing a repetition of the week's punishments to ensure you have a constant reminder to be compliant. It's an added incentive for those whose moral compass may not always be pointing in the correct direction. The State's direction.

It isn't fully effective. The fact I'm currently holding a bag of skimpy garments dancers perform in to a crowd of people on heat is proof of that.

If there was a way to avoid this square I would, but our biggest customer is located on the corner directly facing the punishment platform; defying the same laws many of those hanging people were killed for.

It should anger me to think some of the Officials currently walking around and monitoring this square are the very people perpetrating the crimes they so easily sentence someone to death for. It should but it doesn't. I've become accustomed to the inequality of The State. They have power and status which most of those hanging victims lack.

Placing my bike outside the hotel, I swiftly unstrap my bags and walk through the large glass entrance into the main foyer. This is one of my customers where I don't have to pass down dirty back alleys and sneak through back doors. A hotel has a legitimate reason for regular collection and delivery of bags brimming with laundry whereas a Reflection Centre, Cafe or Doctor's Office does not.

No one seems to question how few customers ever check into this Hotel. However, I've heard their bar is always busy; overflowing with people late into the night then they leave smelling oddly like alcohol which can't be right because alcohol is not allowed. It's amazing they can get away with it.

The opulent red carpet with gold embroidery beneath my feet and large gleaming chandeliers floating above me always seem so vulgar compared to the horrific scenes of death waiting outside. I continue towards the back of the foyer, heading towards the private members-only entrance.

Passing the front desk, I see the receptionist is new, his large beard covering his small mouth so it's almost hidden. I wonder how much food gets stuck in those hairs when he eats.

"Can I help you?" The receptionists says, leaning across the desk to get my attention.

"I'm here with your dry cleaning delivery. Is it ok to take it through to the usual place?" I gesture at the bags in my hands then at the private members-only entrance.

He looks me up and down considering my offer. He wasn't expecting me which is nothing new. People in this world are always surprised when they meet me for the first time. I look young for my age and with minimal skin showing, I look innocent and shy; embarrassed by my developing body but that's partly why I've never been caught. To date, I've never been stopped by an Official for looking suspicious.

His face creases in suspicion. "Good afternoon. How are you doing today?"

Great, he's going to make me repeat the agreed conversation to let him know I'm allowed through that door. I hate this part so much.

"Healthy and wholesome. I hope yours has been the same?" I say with a fake smile.

"Yes, thank you for asking. And you're here with the laundry?"

"I am. It's all fresh, clean and as pure as the State's integrity," I reply flatly. The manager who thought up these sentences for me to signal to the receptionist who I am needs to be punished.

Where is Hiro the usual receptionist? I'd stopped doing this stupid charade months ago with him. I almost ask about Hiro but stop myself. There's always the possibility he left on bad terms and I can't be associated or linked to any ill-feeling. I keep my mouth closed waiting for the new receptionist's response.

"Ok, you may head through." The bearded receptionist starts to fiddle with his papers on the desk.

"Thank you," I say politely. "Will you be on the reception from now on?"

"I am the new day receptionist. Hiro is no longer with us," He replies slowly.

My mind flashes with recognition to the bodies outside; a hint of familiarity for the dangling shadow of a man at the back. I feel a wave of nausea. I didn't know Hiro well, he was just an acquaintance and he was involved in illegal activities so he knew there was a risk of hanging. The thought doesn't comfort me.

I force the largest smile I can muster and nod towards his neck marking. "I love your neck design."

"Thanks. I designed it myself to celebrate the birth of my daughter." He returns a genuine look of pleasure, everyone likes a compliment.

"That's amazing. You should go into marking, people would pay good money for designs like that," I enthuse.

"You know, I have been considering it for a while."

"You should go for it. I'm Cady by the way. I'll always do the collections and deliveries of laundry here so I look forward to seeing you more often."

"I'm Aaron." He smiles broadly, a set of shiny white teeth gleam from a slit in the black mass of wire on his face.

"Nice to meet you, Aaron. Is it alright in the future if I just walk through."

"Of course."

"Great, I'll see you around." I walk away and pass through the members-only door which opens onto a wide corridor.

Entering the third door on the left, I walk into a compact room and am hit by a strong sweet floral scent which remains in the air from last nights occupants. Hanging the clean garments in the racks located in the corner, I ignore my dark figure being reflected back from the wall of mirrors which sit above large dressing tables.

The items of clothing I hold are minuscule and composed of straps, translucent mesh, beads and sequins. I've handled pieces of clothing like this so often they don't scare or shock me like they would a normal citizen. I don't look at them in disgust rather I'm always curious as to how they look when worn. I don't see that side: the drinking, the exposed bodies, the action. I can only imagine what happens based on second-hand accounts from my customers and only some are willing to divulge the activities which take place on their premises.

Stuffing the dirty clothes piled by the door into a bag, I exit and walk deeper into the hotel towards the storage cupboard. Filling it with clean sheets, I hear Purity's voice drift behind me, soft and soothing yet full of authority.

She nods in acknowledgement as she passes, flanked by three men who wear dark suits. Nodding back, I try not to draw any attention to myself. From the way their eyes drift over me, I'm certain they run similar establishments to this and owners are always looking for workers, voluntary or forced.

"I haven't seen her around before. Is she new?" One of the men asks.

"No, she runs the laundry service we use," Purity says nonchalantly.

I respect Purity. She's never asked invasive questions or offered me a job. She relies on voluntary admissions, people running away for some reason or another. She's pleasant, fair and formal and she runs her business in the same manner.

"Looks rather young to run her own business but then looks can be deceiving," The same man comments. His beady little eyes stare at me trying to figure out whether he can take advantage. I know it's my turn to speak, staying quiet will only intrigue him more. I need to take control of the situation; pretend I have nothing to hide.

"I'll take that as a compliment," I say turning towards them.

I pull out my business cards with a steady hand and pass them out whilst making eye contact with each one of them. "My name is Cady. I provide a professional, confidential and discreet service with incredibly competitive prices. Pick up and drop off provided. Why do your own dirty work when we can do it for you?"

The beady-eyed man looks amused, his wrinkles deepen. "Purity, I'm surprised you've not convinced her to join your team. Cute and confident, she would do well."

"She knows I'm better at cleaning her sheets than I would be at dirtying them," I respond immediately.

He laughs loudly as I wait for the question. He's going to ask for my age and for me to show my engagement seal. When he sees I haven't got one, in fact, I haven't got any markings he'll hand me over to the State Officials.

Once The State find me unmarked, it will be the end of me but more importantly, it could lead to my mum's discovery and ultimately her death. Escaping labour camp doesn't happen more than once because you don't get a second chance. We'll both be dangling from the beams in the main square for everyone to see.

"You're wasting your time. She's happily engaged and everyone knows you only take the engaged ones if handed over by an Official. So unless you plan on having The State after you because of an overdressed average looking girl, I suggest we continue to the members' bar. We've got more important matters that need to be discussed," Purity's voice sounds almost like a purr. The lie comes so smoothly, I have to focus all my efforts on not looking surprised. My respect for Purity has just shot through the roof.

"Nice to meet you all. I hope to hear from you soon." I nod and turn around to the safety of the shelves.

Counting in my head, I slow down my movements. One, two, don't rush, three, four, remain calm, five, six...

"Thank you, Cady. I'll see you tomorrow." Purity walks off, the two other men follow bored and disappointed on the loss of a prospective new body.

"This only has a phone number. Where is your business located?" The beady-eyed man doesn't budge. I want to scream at him to get lost.

"Best way to contact me is by phone as I'm often out on deliveries," I say, bending down and gathering more dirty laundry which has been shoved in the corner. Closing the cupboard door behind me, I smile at the man innocently.

"You'll be hearing from me soon, Cady." He paces after Purity, tapping the card against his hand.

There's a reason we don't put an address and it's for times like this. I'm familiar with the glint in his eye, I've seen it before: desire, wanting and greed. He saw through Purity's lie and he will be waiting for me here when I return tomorrow. He's a man who takes what he wants if it will benefit him. I am an object, a commodity which can be used to make him money and nothing more.

We are going to have to leave tonight. A new town, a new laundry business, a new start. My mum is always prepared for when the time comes.

We'd planned on staying here a little longer but we'll be due to move soon anyway, what's a year or so earlier? We can never stay in one place too long. That's when your guard starts to fall and you get too comfortable, mistakes are made which equals getting caught.

Next time we start over, I wonder how young I can pretend I am and be believed. The younger I can get away with, the more time I'll have to figure out a way of getting a birth brand, one which makes me a year younger so I have time to find a fiancé and have a life.

Except, I've still never met anyone who deals in illegal Birth Brands. I'm starting to worry there aren't any.