"Number 1479?" The woman behind the counter calls out.
I pull all my papers out of the pocket of my torn jacket and place them on the counter. There are dozens of documents signed by my parents and the Human Advisor of my Location Center. So many papers that took so much time.
The woman stares at me with dull, brown eyes. On the inside of her wrist are the numbers 1232 permanently printed into her skin. There are purple bruises on her arms, most likely from disagreements with the Disfigureds.
"Proof of identification?" she asks. The woman refuses to look at me, keeping her eyes down at the table.
I pull back my sleeve to reveal the numbers 1479 on my wrist. She glances at the numbers for a moment then turns her eyes to the documents. The woman shuffles through them, occasionally making grunts. I am not sure whether it's a good or bad sign. Her eyebrows raise at a couple of the signatures.
She nods. "Everything is in order." The woman stacks the papers into a neat pile.
I break out in a grin. "Great! When will I get my passport?"
The woman thinks for several moments. "In about five years, at least. Could be longer."
My jaw falls slack and my heart falls. "Five years? Are you sure?"
For the first time since I walked in, she looks up at me. Her old eyes are full of pity. She places a hand over mine. "I'm sorry, 1479. There are many people wishing to get a passport. It's a long list. Everything has to be processed. To me, it doesn't seem worth the wait."
"Please, 1232. I even have a letter of recommendation from the Supervisor of the Disfigureds!" I tell her desperately. I pull back the papers to show the letter. Getting that is an experience I never want to go through again. It ended with a fractured wrist and a swollen cheek. "There has to be a way to make the wait shorter."
She sighs. 1232 glances over her shoulder. "I'll tell you a secret." The woman pulls her face close. "Everything out there looks the same for us."
My eyes rove over her face, searching for the answers she isn't telling me. "What do you mean?" I ask.
1232 shakes her head with clear hate. "Humans have no chance. All the rumors are a lie. The fairies aren't setting up a sanctuary. There aren't cities made of gold where everyone is dressed in silk and jewels. And there most definitely aren't any human sympathizers. Stay in Center 422. Marry a strong man. Have many children. Live an honest life. You're safer here than out there."
Suddenly my mouth feels dry. "But—"
"No," she interrupts. Her eyes show a broken soul of someone who has been beat down her entire life. It's a look that is common here. "You're a beautiful girl. Don't throw your life away because you want a little adventure. Go home while you still can," 1232 begs.
Her words carry the weight of years of wisdom, but I can't find it in myself to heed her advice. There is no way that I'm going back now. Once I start, I can't stop.
Her words bounce around in my head. But what if she's right? What if there is nothing out there for humans? It's hard to imagine anything past the abuse we endure every day. Our houses are crumbling. The children are starving.
I'm always afraid.
What if it's like that everywhere?
I mentally shake my head of those thoughts. No. Even if everything is as bad as here, I have to see it for myself. I have to see that there is no hope. There is no way that I will be able to live my life in this prison without finding out if this is the best it gets.
"I want my passport. I worked too hard not to get it," I reply with more confidence than I feel.
Her grip turns death-like and her eyes gain a wild look to them. The Disfigureds tense in the corner of the building. They turn their red eyes towards us. Their sewn-shut mouths curl into frowns. The powerful gazes of the vampires dig into my soul, turning my insides violently.
I try to yank my hand away but she's too strong.
"Please," she gasps, "think this through! The minute I turn these papers in, that is the moment that they become interested in you! Please—"
1232 grunts in pain when one of the Disfigureds pulls her head back so roughly that her neck cracks. Finally, she releases my hand. I take two large steps back to distance myself from the Disfigureds.
Her supervisor walks over to us from the back room, probably hearing the commotion. The man's ears are pointed like the tip of a pencil. His irises are a neon yellow with flecks of pink. He tuts at 1232 as he passes. The elf shuffles through my papers on the counter. He smirks as he flips through each page, revealing his pointed teeth.
The creature sets the papers down with a slam. Both 1232 and I flinch. "A human wishing for a little exploration. That's refreshing," he purrs. The Disfigured behind him grunts in agreement.
I bow my head. "Yes, sir," I murmur politely.
The elf places his hand underneath my chin and forces me to look at him. His sharp nails dig into my skin, no doubt leaving scratches. "Identification, please," he snarls.
"Human 1479," I tell him robotically, showing my wrist as proof.
He smirks. "Well, Human 1479, today is your lucky day. I'm feeling quite generous." The elf reaches behind the desk to grab a rubber stamp. He slams it on a form with so much strength that it shakes me to the bones. "Two men will be over by your residence tomorrow morning. Be prepared." The elf smirks like he knows a dirty secret and is dying to share it.
"Thank you!" I exclaim, forgetting my manners in front of the elf. It's happening. It's happening. I'm getting my passport!
The elf chuckles with a large amount of amusement. "No, thank you."
He turns to face the Disfigured still holding the woman back. She whimpers as it sniffs her neck. The elf takes out a needle of blood from his coat and injects it in the Disfigured's arm. It audibly sighs with relief. Its skin flushes several shades. In the right lighting, it could pass off as a normal vampire.
"Now if you excuse us, we must take care of a rather disagreeable human." The elf runs his hands through her hair. 1232 shudders with disgust.
She holds still, already accepting her death.
"Sir," I start. The elf turns back to me slowly, clearly unhappy that I'm addressing him without consent. "Please, can you tell me what will happen to her?"
The elf lets out a humph. "Well, it will be treated like the others who do not obey." His eyes narrow to two slits. "And if you do not stay in your place, you might join her too."
I snap my mouth shut. The elf, 1232, and Disfigured exit through the back door without any resistance. Instead of speaking up, like I desperately want to do, I just walk out of the cramped federal building. As bad as it sounds, she's not worth the punishment that would follow if I did.
The air is cleaner outside the building. Finally, I can breathe without smelling the rotting Disfigureds.
There's a flash of movement as she jumps away from the wall. "Hello, Moon," she whispers in my ear.
I smile at her nickname for me. I make sure that I'm close enough to her ear so no one else can hear. "Hello, Stars."
Just having names for each other can get us hanged in the town square. Having names is illegal, oddly enough. The supernaturals claim that only those who are worthy will have one. It's just another way of forcing us below them. Stars has always been rebellious, though, so she gave me a name.
It feels good to have a name. It gives a sense of identity. No wonder all the supernaturals have one.
"So, how was it?" she asks. Her brown eyes sparkle with anticipation. "Are you getting your passport?"
"Yeah, I am," I tell her half-heartily. "Two men are coming to my house tomorrow morning."
Stars frowns. She skips ahead of me with her blonde curls bouncing wildly. "Then why aren't you more excited? This is what you've wanted for years!"
I look over my shoulder. There are Disfigureds all along the street. I shake my head. "It's not important." I stress each syllable. Stars eyes grow wide. She nods in understanding. 'It's not important' is code for 'It's not safe to talk about'. We seem to be saying it a lot lately.
Stars gasps suddenly. She covers her mouth with her hands and jumps up in the air.
I giggle at my friend's behavior. "What?"
Stars claps her hands with excitement. "I just realized that you're getting your passport tomorrow!" She shrieks. Stars lowers her voice instantly when several Disfigures turn their heads to look at her.
I raise a brown eyebrow. "And...?"
Stars rolls her eyes. "You forgot, didn't you?"
"Forgot what?"
"Forgot that tomorrow's your," Stars leans in forward like when she whispered my name, "birthday."
My eyebrows come together in confusion. "Is it really?"
Stars nods. "Do you even know how old you'll be?"
I shrug. "Nope. But why would I keep track? There's no point. It's just an excuse for my mom— I mean 1301 to make her famous cake."
My friend licks her lips. "She shouldn't have to have an excuse to make that wonderful creation."
Stars pushes open the door to my house. It's a one room bungalow. There's a small wood-burning stove in the corner with our pile of food stashed next to it. There is a chamber-pot with a curtain around it in the other corner. Our beds are in the opposite corner, next to the door.
My father looks up at us as we enter. My mother is too preoccupied with making her soup as perfect as possible to tear her eyes off of it. My father, also known as 1327, is still filthy from his work in the fields. His skin is a dark tan, except for the marks from where he wears his hat and clothes. My mother's hands and worn from the hours she spends sewing clothes. In several months, I will have to either work in the fields or in the sweatshops to help support us.
"So, how did it go?" My father asks.
Stars answers before I can. "They're sending two men tomorrow morning to get her the passport!"
For the first time since we came in, my mother removes her eyes from the soup. She places her hands on my cheeks. "Is it true, honey? Are you getting your passport?"
I smile and nod.
My father claps his hands together. "From the day you were born, I knew you were going places!" He laughs cheerfully.
"Oh, I'm so happy!" My mother gushes. She runs her fingers through her hair to calm herself. "Oh, we need to clean you up! Your nice dress is clean so you have to wear that! And maybe I can braid your hair or—" She gasps. Her soup is boiling over. She rushes over to the stove and takes the dented pot off the burner. "Just thinking of my baby being able to leave Center 422 makes me so happy! The things you will see, the people you will meet!" she babbles.
My father places a calming hand on his wife's arm. "Don't get yourself worked up, dear. There is still a long time until the morning. Save your excitement. We don't want it to be used up before they come," he teases.
She snorts and smacks him with a towel. "I will be as excited as I want to! Our baby is going to do something that generations haven't done: she's going to leave!" My mother looks at us from over her shoulder. "1480, dear, your mother has been wondering where you went. She said something about you helping her scrub the floors." She raises an expecting eyebrow.
Stars's eyes grow large. "I forgot! I wish I could stay but I really have to go" She waves before leaving out the front door.
He shakes his head. "That girl sure is something."
My mother sets three bowls of soup down on the table. "Come on, let's eat. Then we will have a lot of planning to do. I want everyone to know about how amazing of a daughter we have." She reaches over the table to pat my cheek.
I smile. "I love you two, but you don't have to brag."
"We're going to anyways." My father's smile fills me with pride. "You deserve it.