Abhorrent.  Abusive.  Annoying.  Disrespectful.  Displeasing.  Insulting. 

There are no other words worth my time to describe how my life is run.  By offensive, evil people.  After my parents died, I was sent to an orphanage where all anyone did was abuse and deploit me. I have nothing but weak hope to help, and even then its not enough.

My name is Harrison Bailey, and I am my own person. There's only one person out there who actually cares about me. One person who actually supports me. Sam's parents died in the same factory explosion, and we're all we've got. We'd do anything for eachother, and during our young, short tragic lives, we've learned a whole lot about friendship.

I look down at my fiilthy hands and to the dish I was washing. It's now shiny and clean, and the muck was aimlessley transfered from the plate, to my hands.
"Bailey!" Mrs. Handingon, the orphan keeper, hustles into the kitchen with a stern look on her face. A look that would make you think she's called my name a thousand times.

"Outside, now!" I haven't been at the orphanage very long, so I don't know how, but I think I'm already on Handnigon's bad side. And trust me you do not want to be on her badside.

"For what?" I look up from the now clean pot with a questioning look on my face. I've learned to stay calm around these kinds of situations. Even though I've recieved several whippings for a kind tone, kindness is always best, no matter the consequense. That's one of the many things I learned from my parents in the past, one standard I'll always live up to.

"Byle is making an announcment and it's playing in the square."  I sigh. Another person who leads the lives of other people, only to drop them somewhere called misery.

"Alright, I'm coming." I set the pot gently in the sink. 'Darn, I still have chores.' I groan silently. For no apparent reason, Handnigon hates me. She pressures me into doing all the chores. She punishes me for no reasons. And I'm still trying to figure out why she calls me by my last name instead of my first. Because I personally think Harrison is better.

I wipe my hands on my apron and hang the stiff, white cloth on the door hangar. "Harry! Out here! The announcement is playing." I hurry outside and follow the tones of Sam's voice to the spot where he stands, and I squish myself in between him and Miss Sassy Pants, Arryn Shallowston.  I accidentally bump her, and her pretty little face burns red with anger. 

"Sorry Arryn," I apologize.  "It's a tight squeeze." 

I know what menacing move is coming, and as I instinctively flinch, Arryn brings her hand down roughly upon my  face, and my cheek stings in pain.  I'll tend to it later, I have a trip to the apothecary anyway, so I'll fix it then,' I think, and my mind reels back to all the things I still have to do, and it's already 5:45.  I look up at the screen and a bright flash ignites the town square.  With a grip on my stinging face, I listen and prepare myself for the dreadful words I'm about to hear.  But the words that come from the projected screen are not at all what I had expected....
****
"Ladies and gentlemen, people of Ferox, I have a new announcement.  Starting this year, every urben will be forced to give up three boys and three girls to be placed in a toppling tower and fight to survive.  Because there are only eight urbes, each will give six children form the ages 8-18.  Everyone too young or too old will not have the chance to do so. 

"The first choosing ceremony will be held tomorrow at 8 a.m. sharp.  In every urben.  Please understand that everyone will need to wear their finest attire for this occasion, and if not, they will be persecuted in the town square.  I'll be visiting each urben to explain the rules more sufficiently."
****
Gruesome images flip through my mind.  Thoughts of death by broken building.  Blood, flooding the room because of an unpredictable something.  Sam, dying because of Byle's foul mistakes.  I hate life right now.
****
The apothecary seems miles away.  As I trod the rocky, dirt path, a greenhouse building comes into view, and after what seems like days, I'm on the apothecary's concrete steps.  My knuckles rattle on the ashen door and as I pull my hand away, my knuckles come back bloody and scratched.  My eyes roll and the door opens, revealing a scared woman with oily hands. I've only been here once, and all I know is that this place is the closest to a hospital we've got in urben three, but people still don't get the care they need.

"I, uh, have the medicine you, um, required rehabilitation of from the orphanage." My words stutter and they didn't come out exactly as I had wanted, but I let that go and wait for the lady to respond.  Eventually the words process in her head and she ushers me inside, a frail hand as my only guide. 

A young boy walks up to the woman and they whisper something I can't hear, until the woman leaves and the boy is guiding me to hospital cot occupied by a teenage girl, about 16.  "Is she the one?" I question silently.  "With malaria?"

The boy nods and I reach into my satchel for the pills and fever oil I had brought.  "She's from urben one, and mosquitos are there most deficient problem."  I nod.  "Plasmodium infection is serious there, and her case couldn't be treated there, even though everyone else's could.  Hand me the  pill."  I hand him the case of hand-crafted pills and he pulls one from the case and slips it into the sleeping girl's mouth. 

"This should dissolve and help calm it down until her next take," I explain.  "Here are the rest of them.  Every ten hours should work, and if that's too long, narrow it down to eight."  I then take the vial of oil out of my pack and rub some onto her hot forehead.  "This oil will help with the fever." 

He shakes my hand, and I leave the intoxicated building, heading for home.  Home?  I don't think you can really call the orphanage home, but it's the closest to home I've got.  It'll have to do, along with the hope I'm carrying with me in my pockets....

Chapter written by: soccerpatriot