Chapter 1.

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I wake up to a cool Sunday morning. The beach's waves dancing and crashing down at the shore not too far from my house. Sliding out of bed, I walk to the window. I struggle to open the dusty piece of glass, but then I do, and a rush of salty sea air twists my tangled hair backwards. I was reminded of the caress of water on my skin, the scent of salt in my hair, and the brilliant sound of my best friend's laughter. I closed my eyes and listened to the seagulls calling, picturing them making slow wheels in the sky.

Suddenly all that was interrupted by a screech emitted from the kitchen. "Annie! Hurry up and come down here! I need your help with this!" It was my grandmother, Alana. I was staying with her while my parents took care of my younger siblings. I always thought living with my grandmother would be a dream come true. But, truth be told, she treated me like a slave, and I hated it. I could never do anything about it, because she had permission to whip me if I'm on bad behavior. I quickly shut the window and yelled, "Coming!". I dashed downstairs, nightgown flowing and barely skimming my knees. I reached the kitchen to see Alana struggling to zip up her dress.
"Next time be a little faster, dear," she said and turned around. I zipped up her dress, so it hid her wrinkly back, and realized why she was dressing up fancy. Today was the reaping, and she was dressing up to meet with a large crowd. Realizing this, I quickly ran back upstairs and began to get ready, although I became aware, with a forgetful, stressed sigh, I was going to get whipped for leaving before Alana told me to. I slipped into a light white dress and light blue flats, then did my hair in a fishbone braid down my back. I took my time, not very eager to get what was coming to me. I was putting on a tiny bit of make up when Alana screeched again.
"ANNIE MARIE CRESTA COME DOWN HERE IMMEDIATELY!" I knew what was coming and shrunk down in my room. Hiding won't help, something in my mind told me. I'd have to come out sometime to eat. I sighed and ruefully walked down the stairs. Alana was waiting for me and the end of them, her wrinkly face scrunched into a scowl. In one of the hands on her hip was a whip. She raised it high in the air and, like a rollercoaster right before going down a high hill, held it there for a second, before swiftly cracking it at my face. I saw it coming and used my arms to protect my face, and my arm got hit instead. It hurt like I just got burned, and it left a scar right next to another one from the day before. A noise escaped my throat and I backed up, holding my stinging arm. It doesn't hurt any less when you see it coming. Alana put the whip down and said, "Let's go, Annie". I could only obey and follow as we walked to towns square, where the reaping was being held. A marvelous way to start a dreadful day.

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