I set myself on the starting line, slowly getting into position as my nerves accelerate like a racecar. This is my first appearance at any major competition, and I'm scared to death. I can not afford to mess this up, not because of my pride or anything, but because my family and even my boyfriend depend on me. I have to win this for them.

The timer ticks down.

Ten. Deep breath.

Nine. I can do this.

Eight. I have to do this.

Seven. Mom.

Six. Dad.

Five. Margaret.

Four. Oliver.

Three. Deep breath.

Two. Give it my all for them.

One. It's now or never.

The buzzer goes off, and the eight of us shoot from our positions, all of us focused on crossing the finish line.

With every step, the end draws closer and closer. I try to judge where I am in reference to those I'm racing against, but it's hard to tell. My steps don't seem to be behind or ahead of anyone else's. We were chosen for a reason; we're among the best racers that this nation has.

Ten months ago, I raced because I enjoyed it. I would come up with every excuse to be on the track or the street, running my heart out. I loved to feel the wind blowing through my hair, so I never put it in a ponytail. There was nothing more satisfying than hearing my feet pound against the pavement. There was nothing that I would rather do.

But everything suddenly changed. My favorite recreation became a game of life or death. My only chance of ensuring that myself and everyone I love lives, is if I come in first place.

Heart pounding erratically, I drive myself to go faster, motivated by the shadow of the pain I would feel, living life without love.

Automatically, I run through the risks in my head for the millionth time today. What happens if I get anything but first? The person who comes in eighth place will be forced to watch all of their family and friends be murdered before being killed themselves. The person in seventh only hears about it before meeting the same fate. Sixth place might be the worst of all; pick two family members to die, then are also killed. Fifth, tortured and killed in the presence of their family and friends. The runner who places fourth will be killed. In third place, the runner's significant other (or a parent/closest friend) will be killed, but the runner lives. Second place, their family is brutally tortured, but no one is killed. Then first place, no one is harmed.

I have to get first place. I couldn't stand to live with any of the other options. A grimace surfaces as I realize that if I don't place in the top 3, then I won't live at all. And that is not an option.

Although maybe death is the only way to get out of this madness.

Just as the thought completes itself in my mind, I force it out. No. Death isn't an answer in this.

It isn't an answer now or ever.

My shoes pound heavily against the ground, and the sound mixes with seven other pairs, creating a jungle of noise. The audience—the one thing you can usually count on to be loud—is deathly quiet, reminding me yet again that this is not a normal race. Even still, I barely register it; my top priority is to win this race.

I have to win this race.

As I run, my mind flutters back to the day everything changed. Oliver and I were out bicycling around our large city when he spotted something in the sky. It didn't take long for us to realize that it was a UFO. Of course, the ships are now easily identifiable by anyone on earth, but no one had ever seen anything like it at that time.

I remember Oliver leading us back to my house. I've never seen him as frightened or concerned about me (with the exception of this race, of course). He was so frantic. The image of his blue eyes, filled with panic, is ingrained into my memory.

I pull myself from my memories long enough to round the corner smoothly, but then I go back to nine months ago.

It only took a couple of days for the invaders to gain control of every country and island of the sea. They had the entire world in the palm of their hands, and what did they do first? They set up this sick kind of carnival all over the globe, and forced everyone to attend. We had the impression that it was going to be all fun and games there, so why wouldn't we go? That question was answered as soon as we stepped past the tall wooden fences.

Those barriers should have been our first clue; run.

First, they separated the old and weak from the young and healthy. I was lucky enough to be able to stay with Oliver and Margaret, but my parents were sent the other way. It was about a week before we saw them again, and they refused to tell us what happened to them. My father was in the nation's army. He was highly decorated and very successful in the field. For him to be too traumatized to say anything speaks volumes of what they might have done. For weeks, I had nightmares of those endless possibilities. But in that moment of separation, I thought of the events of the horrific Holocaust, and I wondered if I would ever see them again. Now, I wonder if it's better or worse that we're all still alive.

Those of us that were healthy were forced to run. I remember wanting to go slow so I could run with Oliver and Margaret, but both of them insisted that I needed to do my best. So I did. None of us knew that the best would be forced to do these races. Additionally, however, the slowest ten or fifteen people in our age group disappeared. At the time we didn't know what had happened to them—how could we? But looking back, I know that those people had to have been killed.

I round another corner.

I didn't come in first place in the race that first day, nor was I in second or third, but I placed fourth. Then, they pulled me and the other top thirty or so runners away from the group. They told us how everything was going to work. Once a month they'd have these races. They claimed that this was to help them weed out the weak among us, but I remember thinking: hadn't they already done that? I was absolutely sick with worry about Oliver and Margaret at that point. Dead or alive, I wasn't sure, nor if I would ever be able to see them again. I again wondered whether being alive or being dead was better.

After making us run again for over an hour (for no reason except for their sick satisfaction), they sent us away. I reunited with Oliver and Margaret, all of us sobbing, relieved that we were still alive.

As I round the third corner, I have to remind myself that my family is lucky; all of us are still alive. Oliver on the other hand wasn't quite as fortunate. He never had any siblings, but neither of his parents ever came back from wherever they sent them. Helping him through that grief wasn't easy—and it still isn't—but I'm glad that he's had us. Being there for him helped distract me from everything. There are several people who no longer have any friends or family that are alive. I've seen them aimlessly walking through the streets of town, rarely caring to be home by the curfew. Punishment for breaking curfew is one of the few things that they are upright about: death. However, if I had no family left, I probably wouldn't be so eager to go on living either.

I realize that I'm crying when I feel the big drops slide down my hot skin. This is not a time for my emotions to get the best of me.

Focus.

It takes me a moment to clear my eyesight again, and that cost me precious seconds.

I'm now very obviously falling behind.

The finish line isn't far ahead of us now, maybe fifty feet.

I can't lose. I can't lose. I can't lose.

I can't lose.

The mantra repeats itself endlessly in my head, my steps quickly diminishing the distance.

And then I cross the finish line. The people in the stands remain silent, and I can almost feel everyone's eyes change direction to look at the video board where the results will be listed. Having no idea what position I was in, my lack of breath doesn't bother me; in fact I barely notice it at all.

Did I lose?

The screen flashes, and my heart skips a beat.

Nothing.

The minutes seem to stretch endlessly as we stare in dreadful anticipation. I shouldn't be surprised that they aren't showing our rankings immediately. They live off of this kind of entertainment, if you can even call it that. They have always relished our suffering, so why would they not take advantage of that now?

My eyes never leave the huge television, and I know it's the same for everyone else in attendance. What goes up on that board will change everything, even for the person who placed first.

The screen flickers again.

Then the results are up.

My chest caves in as I find my name on the list.

Tears stream down my face as I realize what fate is in store for me and my family.

My entire body shuts down. I don't notice when they come up from behind me and grab my arms, pulling me away from everyone else. I don't notice them locking me behind a door. I don't notice when the light turns off, leaving me in total darkness. I don't notice the other person in the room. I don't hear them move closer to me.

Fourth place.