The Mark

I flipped the news channel on at six pm like I do everynight. They were covering the story of a little girl who had "the mark." The mark was long and red. It resembled a snake, starting at her temple and ending at the point of her chin. It was the mark of a murderer. She was only ten years old, about to turn eleven, when all children who shared her mark were taken away.

"A safe and wonderful place," the brochure stated. The had actually made a brochure for this place. The place where they take all soon to be murderers. It was a load of crap.

The history of the marks is actually quite interesting. It all started with the murderer's mark, and others like it. It was created by some scientist almost two-hundred years ago. The crime rate was getting way out of hand so this scientist, along with a few others, figured out how to determine, pre-birth, who was going to grow up to be a criminal. They did this through a saline solution injected into the mother when she is twenty weeks pregnant. The saline didn't hurt the baby, but left a unique mark to determine the child's future. It made sense. If you knew who was going to commit a crime, you could stop it before it happens. The system worked for years. After some time, there were usually only "misdemeanor" marks such as lying or stealing. Evolution or something. But the murderer's mark never completely disappeared. True, it was unheard of and very uncommon. Soon, many parents wanted to know what their child would grow up to be, so the saline solution was adjusted so that it would determine who every person was meant to be.

I was particularly interested in this little girls story because it could have just as easily been me in her position, had my parents not hid the mark. I'm not a murderer, at least not yet. I didn't want to murder anyone. I wasn't angry, I wasn't violent. I was just me. A normal high school senior girl.

This little girl's parents didn't want her to be taken so she was sent to hide in the woods. It took four days before officials found her, well found her body. It was a sad story, although I'm sure very few people would agree with that statement. I didn't exactly blame them. When the mark does show up, it causes fear. Most people fear for their lives, most "murderers" fear for theirs. No one knew what really went on in those so called camps. But it wasn't good. My mother is a social worker and so she is able to know "privileged" information about the camps. She doesn't know what exactly goes on, but she knows those children, who are still innocent by the way, suffer. She hid my mark to protect me from suffering. She has the mark of a life saver, also rare.

I turn the TV off when they finish the story. The news reporters were actaully praising the police for protecting civillians. Praising them for hurting a little girl who just wanted to be with her family. It was disgusting. I walk up my stairs to get ready for bed.

As I fall into an uneasy sleep, I dream I am the little girl that ran for the trees.

"This way," I hear someone whisper. I look in the direction of the voice and it belongs to a familiar boy. He motions for me to follow. We run down by the river, trying to avoid the flashlights. One light shines right on me.

"She's down here!" I hear a voice yell. I catch a tiny glimpse of red hair. Mom! Before I can call out to her, the boy is by my side. He pulls me out of the light and we begin running.

"Wait!" I say to him. "That was my mom. She wants to help us!" The lights are not far behind us but he stops running and points. I slow and look in the direction of his finger. I see my mom again, only she isn't trying to help. She wants to arrest me. I take off running blindly and boy calls out to me. The boy catches up and jerks me to the left. He stumbles and before I can think we are both on the ground. The boy is quick to his feet and tries to grab my hand. It's too late. My mom towers over me and reaches down. The boy is gone.