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The choosing

I slouch in my seat, the fabric of my black silk dress flowing over my legs. I play with the hem of it, looking at how pale the dark and ominous color makes my skin look. The dress in question was handed down to me from my mother, her having worn the dress at her choosing ceremony as well. She was lucky. I may not be as fortunate.

My fingers tug on a strand of my pitch black hair, the loose curls bouncing back into place as soon as I let go. The color of my hair is a shade darker than my dress, the strands shining in the sunlight. The curls make it seem shorter than it originally is, the naturally pin straight locks curled and sprayed in place until perfect. My mother took hours dolling me up for today, and all the hard work payed off.

The dress I am wearing is perfectly ironed, not a wrinkle in sight. It hugs my form, hinting at the generous curves I have acquired after twenty years of living. I have a pair of red stilettos on my feet, the pop of color going with the color scheme impeccably. My makeup is rather simple, going along with the rules about not covering up your naturally beauty. All I have on is some black eyeliner on my bottom lash line to make my unique olive green eyes pop, mascara, and some dark red lipstick. They were very adamant on us having nothing else on, so I was careful to obey.

My mother had spent so long making sure that I looked absolutely perfect for today. She wasn't disappointed. I was stunned silent when I had looked at the finished product in the mirror five minutes before leaving. I wouldn't hesitate to say that I look absolutely ravishing. And it's going to get me killed.

I internally scoff as the voice of our city's representative speaks to us over the loud speaker. His grating voice is painful to my ears, a headache immediately arousing. I hate how his voice sounds to me, as if he is proud of what goes on in this forsaken city.

"Good evening ladies. As you all know, you are here tonight to be given the opportunity to participate in this generation's Choosing Ceremony. Every generation, at around this time, we select all of the women who are between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two to compete. They will be given the chance to live with The Seven, the reason this city is still standing. Without them, we would all be dead. This is why we send seven girls as offerings to live with The Seven for the duration of one year. They will be competing against each other to survive. The last woman standing is sent back home with money, fame, and special privileges. I wish all of you the best of luck."

Despite me going over this in my mind countless times, my palms start to sweat. I don't want to be picked. I don't want to die. The seven girls that get chosen have to go through different stages, each more painful and tiresome than the one before. Only one girl survives, and the chances of that being me are slim. I've just gotta stay calm and hope for the best.

We all stand as one, the number of people causing me to gulp in apprehension. Because of the Choosing, there have been a lot of suicides. No one wants to go through the torture, so they feel like it is less painful to end their own lives. They either do that or somehow cross over the city's borders. This is even more dangerous in my opinion. All of the cities are isolated now, the closest one to us over five days journey. With wild beast and demons roaming the land, us humans traveling by foot means certain death.

I wait in line with the rest of the girls in the fifth row, waiting for my chance to go up on stage. I watch with bated breath as the others go up row at a time, either being called to sit down or to stand next to The Seven themselves. By the time it is my row's turn to go on stage they have already called five girls. I keep my head down, peeking up slightly through my eyelashes in the hope that they won't spend too long looking at me. I let my eyes roam over their sharp features, being drawn in and repelled at the same time.

They are all insanely attractive, but I wouldn't expect anything less from demons like them. They are smirking at us almost evilly, their unnaturally blue eyes looking us over one by one. I find myself staring at one of them in particular, his expression different from the others. He is completely blank, his face and eyes void of any emotion. It is as if he is empty, his face portraying nothing at all. I gasp lightly as his eyes lock with mine, it as if he had sensed me looking at him. His electric blue eyes seem to stare into my soul as the signs of a smile start to appear on his devilishly handsome face.

"Hyung" he calls without looking away from me. My heart rate accelerates as I start to realize what is going on, what is going to happen. No. Why me? Why? The man that looks to be the eldest looks over at him curiously, looking at me as well when he notices who the younger lad is staring so intensely at. My body freezes as he smirks to himself as well, his eyes holding intrigue and curiosity.

"You picked well Taehyung" he says, motioning to one of the guards with a flick of his wrist. I am grabbed by both arms, their hands tight against my delicate skin. I don't struggle as they lead me towards the demons. I continue to stare ahead of me in shock, my dismay evident on my face. I don't want to be here. I didn't want this to happen to me. I don't want to go with them.

I don't want to die.