I can’t believe this. I feel dizzy. This can’t be happening. It’s inhuman. On the news, my family and I had just heard the newest international mandate. Due to overpopulation, one person from each household must be sacrificed.

“Oh goodness,” My mom says, her hand covering her mouth in her usual lady-like demeanor.

“Dammit, this is just a stupid prank, isn’t it?” Dwight, my older brother, yells, finally peeling his attention from his laptop.

“Mama, what does that mean?” Tiana says, not scared but confused. She’s much too little to understand.

“It’ll be alright, baby,” She comforts, scooping Tiana up into her arms.

This is an terrible thought, I know, but for once, having a big family might come in handy. Not that any family should have to go through this. But the odds are simply better with more people. I honestly can’t imagine a world without any of them.

The room feels to be shrinking. I need air. I can’t breathe.

“Corrine?” My dad says, concerned as I run out to the front porch. To my surprise, up and down the streets, people are on their porches. Some crying, some stone-faced, all devastated.

That night, every reachable person on the planet receives a voting device where they will place the vote for the sacrificial candidate. This is the hardest decision I’ve made in my life. I spend a long while internally battling with myself on who I should send to death. I end up picking Nathan, only because he himself has said he doesn’t feel happy most of the time. I hate this so much. I lie in the living room with my family. We all have conjoined in a huge hug, all sobbing into each other’s shoulders. We all know that by tomorrow morning, not all of us will be here. I notice that Amara seems particularly awkward around me. I’m assuming that she voted for me, we never really got along well. I take one last look at all of my siblings because it might be the last time I can.

The following morning, a knock comes upon our door. We open it to find an official-looking man standing outside.

“May I come inside?” He asks with a slight wilt of an Australian accent. Dad gathers us into the living room to hear the reading of the selected person.

“It is with heavy sorrow that I must inform you that Corrine Melvin has been chosen for the sacrificial position,” the man says, not looking troubled in the slightest that he is sending innocent people to their deaths.

Every face in the room turns to look at me. All of the sudden, I’m swarmed with family members who are telling me goodbye, and honestly flustering me more.

“Mrs. Melvin? The transportation is outside.”

I slowly rise, trying my best to hide my emotions. I can’t let the people running this mass murder to see my breakdown. In the doorway, I tell them all that I love them, and I don’t look back. Watching my house fade out of few on my way to my deaths is the worst feeling I’ve ever felt, and likely one of my last.