Writing prompt challenge

Day 7 Story

Humans were dying. Wars had killed millions of people, but it were the results of the wars that did the damage.
Poverty and famine pushed people to do horrible things do one another, robbing, stealing, taking lives.
After more than half of the population had been wiped out, the governments had found a method to control peoples actions.
Humans were modified to have white blood which was automatically inherited when a child was born. After every crime you would commit, the blood would turn darker and if being arrested by the police, they had the necessary technology to check your blood status.

Since more than half of the earths population was now gone, the remaining humans could live with more appropriate standards.
The governments had enough money and recourses to give everyone a place to live, no one was homeless anymore.
There was plenty of food for everyone, no one had to die of famine.
Every job could afford to pay higher wages and people could afford to spent more money.
And all that for the cost of one little modification.
Of course there were some who didn't want to undergo the surgery, but everyone had to, even if they had to force them to.
Most people however voluntarily got the surgery done as soon as possible.
Since then, life has never been better.

I had been born into this system, born with the modification, inherited from my parents.
Growing up with more than I could wish for, I heard all those stories about the "old system", about the human race at the brink of extinction, about all the horrible crimes that were committed and how good and perfect our system was, ensuring the survival of mankind.
Learning about all that in school, it always left me wondering if there was a way to somehow break the modification, if there was a way to around that.
Later in life, I had to learn a hard truth, just because there was a way to catch every criminal, crime still existed.
While there had been people who were forced to commit a crime in order to survive in the past, there was always a type of criminal who did it for the rush, the adrenaline, because nothing else was exciting enough.

I met Nicolas when I was 17 and he was 20.
He was a gentleman, always making sure I was happy, holding the doors for me, paying for dinner when he regularly took me out.
I've never been more in love, this type of feeling was unmatched, unlike anything I had ever felt.
On top of that, he was charming, being able to talk anyone into anything and I believed we were soulmates.
That's what he always said. I was the only one who truely got him, understood his ways of thinking, knowing exactly what and when he wanted and needed something.
Obviously I believed him and after a year, shortly after I turned 18, we got married.

We have been married for 5 years now and things are still as perfect as ever.
Living in our own house in a nice neighborhood, Nicolas and I have been trying to become parents for a few months now, but luck wasn't on our side.
Not fully awake, I started reaching for my husband, but I couldn't feel him next to me.
Slowly blinking repeatedly, I opened my eyes in confusion, searching the room for him.
My gaze fell onto the alarm clock on my nightstand.
Sighing, I turned around, trying to fall back asleep.
There was no way I would get up at 5 am on a Saturday.
I couldn't help but smile though.
Thinking about Nicolas, I was convinced he had planned something special, like I nice breakfast in bed and stood up extra early to get everything done before I would wake up.

Slowly but surely, I drifted off to sleep once again, before being woken by a loud crashing sound and hour later.
My heart pounding in my chest, I rushed down the stairs.
Nicolas had tripped with a large cardboard box in his hands, still on the floor, he was cursing.
I rushed to his side and he flinched upon feeling my hand on his body.
"Are you alright?", I asked, worry clouding my features.
His face contorted, trying to smile, he nodded.
"I just fell, nothing serious. You can go to bed again, I didn't want to wake you up", Nicolas tried brushing the whole situation off.
I watched him get up, picking up the box in order to bring it into the living room.
Still being sleepy, I wanted to get up when I spotted something weird on the floor.
There was a dark, wet spot on the ground, which definitely hasn't been there before.
Carefully, I dipped my index finger into the stain to confirm my suspicion.
It was indeed wet.
I hesitantly put the finger into my mouth, tasting the black liquid.
A metallic taste spread in my mouth, my face twisting in disgust.
Blood. It must've been blood.
I quickly wiped the stain with the hem of my nightgown, sighing in content once it was gone.
Tiptoeing to the door to the living room, I saw my husband on the couch, looking through the box he had carried before.
My eyes scanned his body and soon enough, I spotted black liquid, which I was now sure of being blood, on one of his legs.