There I was, staring into the dark, greyish-black compartment they call "The Capsule." I didn't feel alone. Although I was in a confined cylinder alone, barely any space to breathe, move, or crouch, I still felt company. I just couldn't figure out why I felt this way. Was it because I prayed everyday before the battle? Was I confident enough to kill my friends? That's just sick, that's not me. Maybe because I knew thirty nine other twelve and thirteen year olds were fighting the same battle. The battle to meet our parents. Our family. All of our living relatives. Everyone related to me. All forty of us are from the same orphanage. Strangers come and go judging us by height and weight. By how beautiful we are. How much we want. How willing we are to do chores. The judge us like we're dogs. It has to be perfect.
