My real story hasn't started, yet.

The true telling of my story depends on one single thing: a result.

A result that I will receive in seven days time.

I've not been tested for any ailment or illness; on the contrary, I'm in perfect health. The result that I so anxiously await is due to a calamity that I may have bestowed upon myself. The result won't come from: a doctor, an academic examination, a parent or a court of law. No, it will be conveyed to me from a mirror. My own face will deliver the results of my misdemeanour to the world.

Or it might not.

I'll know in seven days.

Yes, I know I'm being somewhat secretive; but that's because my society makes my situation secretive. I'm deliberately writing this in a style that's devoid of my personality; I don't want my narrative style to identify me to the many traitors who masquerade as friends.

Until I get my result, I want to remain an enigma. Therefore I will mention no technologies that may reveal my 'time.' Nor will I use any slang or dialect that might reveal my 'place.' Neither will I divulge my: name, age, or gender. If I get the 'result' all those things will become apparent to you. Until then, I'm just a person waiting for a result.

But I do want you to stick with me whilst I anxiously wait; so I will give you a little insight into me and the place I come from.

I'm from a close, loving family. My parents are both professional people; and I have two younger siblings. As their first child, my Mother and Father have big aspirations for me.

As children we have a Compulsory Governmental Intervention (CGI); which is designed to somewhat safeguard these aspirations.

At the age of six, we are taken for our CGI. It's singularly the most important event of our lives; its purpose is to shape and mould us into an unsullied adulthood. Mother calls it, "The Protection." But our society calls it 'The Procedure.'

On their sixth birthday, every child of every denomination is taken to their nearest 'Plantation.' These are huge facilities that are revered in all of our major towns. I was so excited on the morning of my CGI, not for the procedure itself, but for the party we celebrate seven days afterwards.

Children don't care about the procedure, because they're not aware of it, they're asleep. A trained medical person ensures they are comatose during the implantation process. Afterwards, we are all aware of the scar that's left from the surgery. We look at it with wonder and reverence, for now we are done and can look forward to our Seventh Day Party (SDP).

My CGI took place many years ago. But my Personal Calamity (PC), took place tonight. And now I must wait seven days, for the result, which will colour the rest of my life.

###

Today is #Day.1

It's the first day after my Personal Calamity.

I feel no different than I did yesterday. I look the same, weigh the same, and as always I woke with a raging hunger. No change there, then.

College was no different. At lunchtime I indulged my passion and played football with the other students. When I'm chasing that ball, all my troubles fall away, my full focus is driving that ball into the back of the net. And today I achieved that twice, bringing victory to my team and personal adulation from them.

At home, mother cooked dinner and we ate together, a regular family sharing the minutiae of their uneventful days.

I fell asleep quite quickly, which I found strange as I thought the stress and anxiety of my impending result might keep me awake. It didn't.

#Day. 2

I woke, washed, dressed, and ate the best breakfast: cured ham, pickled onions, a home made spiced relish and a hunk of bread, washed down with cold, sweetened black tea.

Nothing of note happened at College.

Well, something nearly did. I almost told my best friend of what I'd done. But I didn't, when it comes to the 'result' friends, even the best, can't always be trusted in this place.

#Day. 3

I returned home to the news that my father has received a Professional Elevation (PE). Mother and my siblings were ecstatic, whilst I was rather reserved, "You don't seem so enamoured with father's success," said mother. I feigned a sudden delight and excused my lack of enthusiasm, "Of course I'm thrilled, it's just that I have to prepare for tomorrow's College Examinations," I lied, fleeing to my room.

The truth is, I'm now petrified. For if I get the result on the seventh day, my father will be stripped of his advancement. And it will be my fault. That is a considerable burden.

#Day. 4

This day was truly horrendous. One of the students received a result during mathematics class. The master noticed it straight away and his arm shot out towards the unfortunate, his finger pointing with a quivering fury, "STAND UP, YOU PUSTULANT PRISONER!" He screamed. His voice shook with a violent force, "Students, look upon this outrage, each of you look it in the eye and vow that you will never bestow this pestilence on oneself or our society!"

We all had to line up to look the student in the eye. When it was my turn, I had to ensure my own anxiety did not reveal itself upon my face. I did my best to register disgust, and then I moved on.

That night, sleep eluded me.

#Day. 5

After a sleepless night, I told my mother I had a stomach complaint and asked if I could refrain from school. She looked at me with sympathetic eyes, "You're eating far too many pickled vegetables, they're upsetting your stomach; go back to bed and rest for the day," she said, tussling my hair.

Guilt grew over me.

I hated lying to my mother.

Then I realised that in two days time, my result may ruin her life. That thought made my guilt grow, to the extent that my body couldn't accommodate it and I started to violently shake.

Sleep eventually enveloped me.

When I woke, it was with a renewed strength. I had to think about what I would do if I received the result.

I made a plan. A plan that would protect my parents, but jeopardise myself. But it was a risk I resolved to take.

#Day. 6

The day before my result.

I pretended I was recovered and left for College.

But I didn't go to College. Instead, I travelled to a dark place, to meet with shady people.

People that are known in underground circles as Blue Dissenters (BDs).

A Blue Dissenter took me to a darkened room in the depths of a basement, wherein I confessed to my Personal Calamity. This was the first time I had articulated my PC to another human being; I cried.

When my tears subsided the Blue Dissenter calmly outlined all my options should I get the result. They told me on no account must I go to College. I must once again feign illness, remain at home and continually check my face. The BD told me the result will present round about noontime, and I must be decisive and act immediately.

That evening I felt marginally better, for at least I now had options, I had a plan that I would implement if I received the result.

As this is possibly my last evening with my family, I am determined to make it joyful.

And it was, we ate and laughed in equal measure, myself consuming large quantities of pickled vegetables, much to my mother's chagrin.

#Day. 7: Judgement Day.

When I woke, I immediately ran to the mirror. My face remained unchanged. I successfully feigned illness and mother allowed me stay home. When she looked at me with eyes filled with love and compassion, I had to look away lest I cry and create suspicion.

For I know, if I receive the result, this will be the last time I will look upon my mother's loving face.

###

Back in my room, I feel no sense of panic; instead I feel a strong resolve to take control of my own destiny.

Sitting on the edge of my bed I lift my t-shirt and stare at the small circular scar to the right of my navel. I gently touch it, as though I am willing my implant to hasten its decision.

I complete the letter to my parents and place it on my pillow.

Glancing at the time, I see it is five minutes past noon. I walk towards the mirror with a lowered head.

Once positioned in front of our looking glass, I slowly raise my head and stare at my face.

A shock of cold slams into me as my right eye so vividly reveals my result.

The deep chocolate of my brown eye is no longer surrounded by sparkling white. Instead it glows a bright, fluorescent blue. I am pregnant.

And publicly identified thus.

###

My story has truly started.

For I am now one of my societies most maligned citizens: a seventeen-year-old, unmarried, Blue Eye.

And as such, I am a Prisoner of State.

But in order to imprison me, they first have to catch me.

I grab my coat and flee...