The Day of Separation

They called us all to the main floor, class by class. We were told it was for a mandatory state survey. So when I got to the front of the line, a woman asked my name.
    “Mara Merrow.” I said, wondering exactly what was going on.
    The lady behind the desk typed it into a computer and she smiled, turned to me and said, “Right this way, Ms. Merrow.” waving me to the hallway on the left. As I walked down the hallway, I started to feel nervous, remembering the recent program on the news, about how the worlds governments were sending blue eyed people to “mutant settlements”.
    As of a couple years ago, the world declared that all blue eyed people were not really human, but rather, mutants. As of a couple weeks ago, countries around the world had started putting mutants in, what I call, camps. I call them this, because, essentially, that’s what they were. They were basically concentration camps, like the ones the Nazis used during World War Two.
    When I got to the end of the hall, there were two big guys. The shorter of the two said, “This way.”, leading me outside. Waiting outside were buses with a bunch of people on them. Not just students, but teachers too. But I noticed that it was just the teachers that had blue eyes, same thing with all of the students, as far as I knew.
    I know a warning sign when I see one, so as soon as the men turned their backs, I took off, praying I would round the wall before they could do anything. I rounded the chain link fence, but I never made it to the stone wall, not before a shot rang out. I hadn't even known I was hit until I was on the ground, screaming.
The men came and brought me back to the school, but instead of bringing me to one of the buses, they brought me to a van. There were a couple other people people in the van, they were all shot too.

When we started moving, we knew what was happening, but what was going to happen to us? The drive took a couple hours and when we got to our destination it was nearly sunset. We could see the buses from where the van parked, but it had parked inside of a fenced off area, in front of a building. Above the door, a sign that said “Treatment Center” was bolted to the wall. I had assumed we were there to remove the bullets in our legs because that’s what they told us would be happening.

We were each brought to a separate room by the guards, which is what we came to know them as. I got in the room I was taken to, and inside was a doctor, who was busy checking his equipment. He told me to lay face down on the table so he could take out the bullet. Before I laid down, he inserted an IV into my arm so he could put me to sleep.

While I was asleep, I could feel him working on my leg, it didn’t hurt, it was like he was just touching it. Before I felt myself come to, I started feeling pain again, first my leg, and then, for some reason, the back of my neck. When I woke up, the back of my neck was burning, and when I touched it, I found that it was burned and bleeding.

I was in a small room with about a dozen other people. When I looked at the backs of their necks, I noticed that there was a mark branded on them. It was the mark that they branded on people who broke a capital law, and it was on me.