This is a short story about Kamryn Liermann, daughter of the President of the Human Union at the time of the Galactic Wars, and her...interesting father. It's dedicated to nellie11iah, who is both an amazing writer and a kind friend. I thought you would appreciate reading about young Kamryn :)

The man fell forward into the sand and the row of twenty-foot metal beams came crashing down on top of him, forcing his bloodstained face into the salt-filled dirt. Cheering wildly, the crowd hurled an array of random objects ranging from empty soda cans to fake, plastic cash at the victim in an attempt to speed up his death. Meanwhile, hordes of genetically engineered, flesh-eating scorpions scuttled onto the floor of the arena in a deadly march. Before the man could stand up, they crawled over his skin, tearing away each layer of it in an almost mechanical fashion. 

If the gruesome sight struck any feelings of remorse or pity into the hearts of the spectators who had begotten, most by unscrupulous means, the privilege to attend this exclusive event, none of them dared to show it. Even the smallest of the children present cried, not in distress, but in eager enthusiasm as they kicked their legs out, squirming in their mothers' laps. 

It was if they learned the unwritten social code of the Union even before they were introduced to the spoken word. 

The small girl sank down into her seat at the edge of the arena's highest and most expensive box suite. Most in the arena would quite literally kill for her seat, but tonight, she found it less than comfortable. She crossed her legs, but the luxurious, velvety fabric of the dress between them did not do much to comfort her. She even tried to cover her eyes in as sophisticated a manner as possible with her handkerchief, but the delicately woven strands of silk did little to keep the atrocities below her from her view. 

She clenched her fists in discomfort, picking at the diamonds at her waist. She began to hum softly to herself, trying to distract herself with the thought of sweet music, but even that did not do much to calm her churning stomach. 

"You alright, Kam?" her brother looked into her eyes, surprisingly deep for a child, with genuine concern. She observed that Kyle was looking more like her father every day. For this particular Demonstration, he wore a perfect imitation of the signature Liermann suit: blindingly white with a black tie and diamond cufflinks. It was almost as if he was intentionally copying the President. 

She could see why he would want to do that, being his heir. 

Only, he was not always the heir. He was only the President's successor behind closed doors. One of the most fundamental of the rules that governed the young girl's life delineated the stark differences between her outside and inside family. Her outside family posed for the cameras, and waved pompously while standing atop mountains. Her outside family advocated democracy, and was always there for the people. Her outside family didn't care about the political affiliation of the next President of the Human Union, as long as he or she was legitimately elected by the people they loved. 

Her inside family was different. Her inside family lied, cheated, stole, and rigged. Her inside family called all the shots, and wouldn't give democracy a second glance. Her inside mother cried, and her inside father yelled. Her inside brother was the heir to the throne, and inside Kamryn...well, inside Kamryn was scared. Scared of what she was, and what she was bred to be. 

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," Kamryn Liermann squeaked, blinking the tears out of her beautiful, blue eyes. To be fine was another important Liermann rule. When you aren't feeling perfect, President Liermann often told his daughter, just say you're fine. Technically, it isn't a lie, and it won't get the press on our tails. 

Kamryn was not sure who- or what- exactly comprised " the press." In all nine years of her privileged existence, she had never met a "Mr. Press," or visited the headquarters of a "Press, Inc." Yet, this press seemed to rule over everything: even her father, the all-powerful President. 

She would've liked to meet this "press." 

She fantasized that she might smack him in the face, for all the nuisance he had caused. 

Of course, in reality, she knew that if she were to be given the opportunity to introduce herself to him, she would have the courage to offer little more than a polite, well-practiced handshake. 

"You're always thinking," Kyle remarked, his eyes still focused on his sister. Though the clothing she wore alone could feed the world's hungry for an entire month, her manner of dressing was not Kamryn's most compelling trait. Like everyone else in the arena, she looked straight down, but she did not seem to see the suffering there. Her gaze soared past it and above it, as if she had simply blinked away the horrors of her world within her innocent eyes. It was almost like she was immune to the effects of the Demonstration...immune to the Human Union. 

"Thinking is fun," Kamryn shrugged her tiny shoulders, and the pristine brown ringlets that the people of Earth adored bounced about her neck. "And sometimes, it's nicer up in my brain than it is out in the big, noisy world."

"Don't think so much," Kyle frowned, his expression growing serious. He noticed Kamryn's childish, disinterested smile as she swayed gently from side to side, and firmly grabbed her shoulders to get her attention, his fingers sinking into the velvet pads that clothed them. 

"What?" Kamryn complained. 

"I said, don't think so much," Kyle ordered. He tried to appear stern, but his good intentions easily seeped through his commanding facade. 

Kyle turned his head at the sight of the tears that were beginning to brim under the girl's wide eyes, unable to bear the thought that he had caused the child pain. Then, sighing, he muttered under his breath, "don't think so much...or you might start to figure some things out."