March 10th 2017

We were given a prompt where our character is told by a secret society that she must choose one person for them to kill.

"But, I can't," she choked as tears rolled down her soft cheeks.

"You must, and you will," the hooded figure snarled as he shoved her into the dark room. She gasped, and stumbled from the force. she turned back around to make a run for it, but the door was slammed shut immediately. 

There was a flickering light at the end of the room, and she followed it until she stood before an age dusted podium. 

The room smelled of mildew and iron. She was thankful that it was too dark for her to the the inevitably filth covered floor and walls. 

There was a yellowed square of parchment upon the podium, and beside it sat a feathered quill and a small bottle of ink. She acquired the quill into her feeble and trembling hand; fighting back tears that awaited just below the surface. 

One name. It couldn't be that hard. choose someone you hate. But she didn't truly hate anyone. Everyone has flaws. That's what makes them human. She chose to do what was right. She scrawled her own name across the parchment and straightened stoically.