Pressing her lips together, Lana glared down at the test. Ten minutes had passed and she had yet to finish the third question.
Why was it that everything she didn't study popped up?

What does FWS stand for?
A) Food, Walking, Shelter
B) Food, Water, Shelter
C) Flying, Water, Shelter
D) Fishing, Water, Shelter

Finally! A question Lana actually knew.
Circling the answer, she proceeded onto the next question.

000

It had been forty minutes, and Lucelle had finished in the first fifteen.
Now she was bored.
Twisting her hands in front of her face, she observed the lines on her palms.

Were they drawn on when she was an infant? Soft baby hands could be easily used as a canvas.
Lucelle didn't think so.
Sighing quietly, she gazed across the room, trying not to look at Ivy again.

A boy was stressed.
A girl was calm.
Lana had her eyebrows furrowed together, and her lips were thinned out into a stern line.

Thirty minutes left.
Lucelle groaned and dropped her head onto the desk.
Now all she could hear was breathing.

Wait.
Frantic whispering.
"Do you know what the answer is?"
Jesus...

Lucelle lifted her head up and glanced around the room.
There, in the far corner.
A girl with a buzzcut and multiple piercings.

It all happened in slow-motion.
Ivy turned her head. Emotion flickered on her face for a fleeting moment.
"You're talking." She stated mechanically. The girl's eyes flicked upwards, and widened drastically.
"I-I'm, sorry, M-Miss..." she choked out.

Ivy shook her head unsympathetically.
"You need to be exterminated."
The piercing-girl cried out.

Ivy nodded at a burly guard in the corner. He stepped towards the girl.
"Amber Clark. Gone." Ivy muttered, checking off a name on her clipboard.
Amber screamed as the guard grabbed her by the bicep.
Tears were now involuntarily flooding down Lucelle's cheeks as Amber flailed about, attempting to escape her inevitable fate.

And oh, Amber tried. She clawed at his hands and kicked at his stomach. She begged for mercy. But to no avail, he continued dragging her across the Hall and to the door.
"Amber, no!"
He must've been her friend. The anguish in his voice was indescribable, and physical pain seemed to intensify with every beat of Lucelle's heart.

"Michael, don't speak!" Amber gasped through tears and fatigue. Michael began clutching at his arms and rocking back and forth in his chair, sobbing. He gazed after Amber's fighting figure, as the guard heaved her out the door.
And then she was gone.

Lucelle began scratching at her lip.