“This isn’t how it ends!” I scream, hurling each word at the sea of people who are not humans. “Kill me, and someone else will take my place.”

They are stunned for a single second, but then a cheer goes up. I feel the executioner behind me grab my hand, flipping my arm, as he reaches for the button on my wrist. When he pressed it, poison will leak into my blood and I will die a morbid, painful death. These people will love it.

I know my eyes are wild, my hair knotted. I know I look like the monster they think we are. I know we will still win.

- - -

(The Day Before)

I am silent as I fold my masters laundry. I am silent as a make his bed. I am silent, I am silent, I am silent.

It’s all humans are supposed to be. Us worthless but still useful Grays.

Hundreds of years ago, we sent astronauts out to distant galaxies. They lost contact, and eventually we forgot about them. But about eighty years ago, the colony came back.

The astronauts descendants were different though. With their colorful hair and silver skin and eyes, they were faster and stronger than any human could dream of, and everyone knew it.

So when they returned to their home planet, their home people, they made us into slaves. They took everything we had, and forced us to work tirelessly for them. Taking away our rights and giving only the title of “Grays” (for our boring appearances), they humiliated and disrespected us the moment they stepped off their awful ship.

Of course, we weren’t allowed to say a word of this, punishable by death. Anyone who so much as breathed in a disrespectful manner was killed, sometimes on spot. But usually they would wait, because they so dearly loved their public executions.

When they took over, one of the first things they did was instal unremovable bracelets on our wrists. The bracelets serve as tracking devices, instruments of torture, and killing mechanisms.

They did everything to subdue us. Yet there are small groups, myself included, that will fight for freedom until our dying breath. Whether it happens today or tomorrow, this year or the next, my generation or our children, we will win our freedom back.