I breathed in deeply, looking around at the timber in front of me. I kicked my feet a little, the bottoms of my boots barely brushing the surface of the stream's water. I sat here often, thinking about my older brother, August, reminiscing about things that I knew were impossible and I couldn't change. I read here often, I did homework here, I drew here. This place was my place. It always had been. 

I heard my little sister's voice call my name, causing me to turn my head in the way of her voice. I shut my eyes tightly, keeping this picture-perfect view locked in my mind eternally before I slid off that large fieldstone that I called my throne. I slid into the dirt with a thud, then walked down the creekside away from my rock perch. I found that area peaceful and quiet, something that my boisterous household lacked a lot of unless of course, people were asleep. My sister's sharp protest of my name only made me regret further having brought her here with me. 

Every year, before the Culling, I would go to sit there to reflect on everything that I could do with my next year because it could be my very last. Thus far it hasn't happened yet. But I still had one year left, so you never know. Everything happens for a reason and I was a realist. As long as I was in the pool, I could be pulled. I was in luck though, no family has ever lost two children to a Culling, no matter how many times you've entered your name. I was pleading that this year, or any year that my poor little sis was still in it, that neither of us would be the first family that it befell to.

"Amelia- oh thank god," My sister cheered as I broke through the tree line, "I was getting ready to say, we're going to be late. We gotta get dressed." My younger sister rolled her molasses orbs, seizing my arm. I just grinned pulling my arm out of her clutch and bumping her with my shoulder, "Relax, quit stressing out, Amber," I shook my head, "after the Culling this year, we're getting out of here. Mom's taking that job in the city where there will be lots kids your age to choose from." I encircled my arm over her shoulder as we walked toward where I had left my jeep. I felt her shoulders droop under the pressure of my arm and she relaxed a little, "she'll be getting paid great and you won't have to worry about having to put your name into the pool any more than just once." I continued, kissing the side of her head. She lamented, her nervousness showing through her facade of braveness. "I just don't want to lose you- the way we lost August." She shook her head, her eyebrows knitting together.

I crushed my lips together in a flat line as we neared my vehicle, the memories of my brother flitting through my mind instantly and painfully. I missed him and Amber never talked about August. She understood it was a difficult case in our house and a tough subject for me. It shocked me that today of all days, she would bring him up. Amber was hardly 13 when August was drawn in the Culling and he had stayed away at college for 4 years previous. 

Amber was roughly 8 when he went away to college and scarcely remembers him. She only remembers that he was our brother and parts of his features vaguely. August was so occupied with making sure he got into the school of his dreams and working, that she never got to see him except when he came home to eat dinner. After he graduated high school, August only came home during holidays and the Culling, making her memories of him faint and distant. Thankfully, he was picked before it could hurt Amber. I don't think I could bear it if she hurt as bad as I did. Oh, how I miss his grey eyes, light hair, and bright smile- 

"Amelia?" Amber's voice spoke, pulling me out of my subconsciousness. My head snapped to her, her lamps filled with concern. I hadn't realized she was trying to talk to me until she said my name. I grinned sheepishly at her, "Oh, uh, sorry. I was uh-"

"I'm sorry- I shouldn't have brought him up." She hung her head interrupting me. I gave her a rueful smile, "It's ok, Amber. It's more of a reminder as to why you shouldn't put your name in more than just what's required, no matter what. Only one," I held my pinky finger up, anticipating for her smaller one to coil around mine. Her face went from sadness to a more playful, cheekier one, making me feel that the matter was now dropped. If there was one thing that Amber was bad at, was bringing things up on accident, without thinking.

A smile gradually crept across her soft features, "Only one." She agreed, wrapping her small pinky around mine. I breathed in a soft sigh, putting the car into drive and pulling away from my consecrated spot toward home, putting the uncomfortable and sensitive discussion in the dust.

Our mom was busy in the kitchen, cooking an enormous supper with the other mothers that lived on our block. Every year, the folks get together in one household to glorify the Culling, as we were supposed to. A ridiculous practice that all of us were forced to support. A morbid and unmerciful way for us to recognize that our meager lives remained this everlasting loop of waiting for someone, some innocent child, to be pulled. Because tonight, the elected Culling was a 'revered tribute,' for the humans to the beasts that ruled our world. We were made to commemorate the loss of a family member, a friend, or a partner. No matter who it was, it was brutal. But if you weren't celebrating, you would be punished. Severely. They loved to make an exhibition of those who don't follow their austere commands. 

I passed the kitchen doorway, time seeming to move in slow motion as I walked toward the stairs. I paused to watch the scene in front of me, familiar to me but not all at the same time. 

My mom was conducting the other women throughout her pantry. She was putting them on various jobs that needed to be done so that the meal prep for the community dinner tonight could be done right. Her dark hair tied up into a loose bun, tendrils of her hair hanging loosely around her face as she spoke to the mothers around her. Her light hazel eyes showing hints of tension and pressure as she tried her best to deal with the new chaos in her cozy kitchen. I smiled turning back to the stairs where my younger sister was waiting for me, her face slowly spread into a smile, her eyes closed and opened even slower. Amber turned around to climb the stairs, her light brunette hair bouncing as she hopped up them. I felt something in me stir, a deep-down feeling that I long since secreted. 

Time moved at a regular speed, causing me to blink confused with what just happened. I swallowed the lump in my throat and rushed behind Amber to my room. Something was going to happen tonight, I could feel it, deep down in my soul. My heart lurched and another lump formed in my throat. I knew this feeling, a feeling I had grown accustomed to suppressing. Crying. 

Amber went into her room, closing the door behind her as I sped into mine, sealing the door behind me to hide away from my family before I began to cry. I gulped down my emotions, keeping my promise to August that I would never cry, no matter how sad I got or how hard it was to keep it together. I wouldn't be breaking it anytime soon, I made him that promise almost 5 years ago now, and still intended to keep it. It was the last thing August said to me before we were separated into our groups for the Culling.

I took a shaky breath, looking to my bed where my attire for tonight lay. I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, keeping my breathing even as I did my hardest to swallow the knot in my throat. I finally was able to get it down and walked to my bed, sitting down on it to take a deep breath again before looking down at the navy blue gown that lay beside me on my covers. 

The color you wore was based on how many Culling's you had been to, an easier way to identify the children to separate them. White was the first year, Black was the second, Red was third, Grey was fourth and Dark Blue was your last and final year. I was more than willing to get it over with, wanting to put this traumatic misadventure fair behind me. I just wanted to focus on my schooling and move on with my life. 

I quickly undressed, casting my clothes into the basket next to my dresser. I took the smooth dress into my hands, massaging my thumb over the fabric. It felt like déjà vu, the sensation of doing this before flooding over me in such a powerful way that it took my breath away. One more time. I reasoned to myself, hesitating before I pulled the dress over my head and zipped it up. I opened my eyes, flipping my hair out of the dress, looking into the mirror in front of me. Another wave of déjà vu flooded my veins again, I made a face, odd. I pondered as I fixed my hair, pulling half of it up and tying it back, my usual go-to hairstyle. I gave myself a once over before tapping my cheeks to look a little more energetic, facing my family again, perhaps for the last time. 

To be honest, everyone thought that way. There wasn't a human on this earth that hasn't faced a Culling that hasn't thought, 'Oh my gosh, it could be me this year.' Even though, logically, there was no way all of us would be chosen. 

Only one. 

I didn't bother with any makeup, I never did through the Culling. It was stuffy anyway and it would sweat off by the time we all went home at sunset. Another reason why I didn't was that other girls would wear extensive amounts of it, and I could tell that they regret it after a while. They would have wiped it off or it would rub off onto their dresses by the end of the night. I couldn't understand the fascination that some of the ladies had with the brutes that patrolled the grounds where the Culling happened. They skulked around, growling at us the entire time and glaring holes into our souls. I guess some girls like possessive men or something, but still. I wouldn't want to be involved with the same breed of being that was accountable for millions of human deaths worldwide. 

Throughout the Culling, we're made to sit through a lengthy presentation of lecturers, and various amounts of crap that made the Culling more difficult than it was already. We had to rewatch the identical video that was made when my grandparents were around. Because apparently, we couldn't use modern technology to make a revamp, at the very least. I think their goal was to bore us to death. We all had to stand there, not moving until the end where the pool would be brought out and a single person would be chosen by our mayor. 

I shivered the thought of my sister being chosen, the idea horrifying me to my core. She had this year and one more after this to make it out, that's all she had left. I wanted to pray, but I didn't have time. So instead, I took my cross necklace with me, placing it around my neck and stuffing it between my breasts so no one could see it. I wasn't ashamed of my religion by any means, but we weren't allowed to wear any personal items during the Culling, another dumb rule we had to follow. The beasts like to keep us as minimalistic and similar as we could get since we couldn't look identical.

I finished getting ready and took a deep breath, looking into the mirror one more time before I left my room for the night, turning the light off behind me. I closed my bedroom door quietly behind me, sighing quietly to myself as I smoothed my dress before descending the stairs.

Amber was already downstairs, greeting her friends, and was heading outside. She gave me a quick smile before she ducked out the back door where everyone was at. I went to the kitchen, looking around the room, observing the organized chaos from afar. My mother was still directing women around her kitchen, her hair getting messer in the short time that it took me to get ready. She was mixing a bowl of what looked like fruit together, talking to our neighbor, Sandra, about some sort of casserole that needed to be taken out of the oven. I smiled to myself, crossing my arms and looking at the women as they moved about my family's kitchen. 

"I knew I'd find you in a corner somewhere," a familiar voice said. I looked up to see my dad standing beside me, making me smile, "Dad! You made it!" I embraced him, causing him to chuckle, "Well, I decided decective-ing could wait for one night. After all, it is my baby's last Culling." I smiled up at him, his honey eyes looking into my hazel ones. "Don't worry," he reassured me, "it'll be ok." I smiled as he squeezed me one last time before setting his store-bought pie on the counter. 

"Let's get outside, the estrogen is high in here." He joked, pulling me out of the kitchen and out the back door where everyone in our small suburb was joined, talking, playing, or sitting. But there was one thing in common among everyone in my family's backyard, everyone was talking about the Culling.