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 ^{(it's beta!)}

I opened the garage door and it slid up with several large clunks, piercing the night's silence. The orange light from the street lamps breaking in, making the moist concrete floor glisten.

I put my hand in my pocket and stood up straight. The figure inside was staring at me with a glare that topped them all. He wore a battered leather jacket and tatty dark blue jeans.

"This is the end of the road, Coursework," I said menacingly as I stepped slowly towards him, my black shoes making a dull clink on the floor as I went. He stood up to face me.

"One of us is going to go tonight Black," he hissed, "and I'm putting my money on you, when Sir finds out what you're doing, you'll get it, mark my words you will."

I gripped the cold steel in my pocket and looked straight at him for a moment. "You really think so?" I replied as I raised the gun to point at him, "I've been waiting a damn long time for this."

I felt the recoil shudder in my shoulder. He stumbled back, clutching his chest. I shot again. His stomach. He was nearly over. Complete. I turned my back on him and left the garage, only pausing to shut the door behind me.

No one has said a word for 3 hours. The other girls are all tied to the same tree I am. Aika, Hailli, Faina, Diila, Ekiana and me, Kienna, all of us feeling just as terrified, just as confused as each other.

All 6 of us are bound tight around a dead tree trunk, in the centre of a clearing in this dry and dusty forest.

Hours ago we were summoned to the shamans hut. All six of us walked in laughing about something or other, but we instantly stopped when we saw the look on the shamans face. Suddenly two large and powerful men who had been hidden behind two large terracotta pots closed the door firmly and finally behind us.

None of us knew what was happening, we were all looking around us in bewilderment and fright. The shaman sat, deathly still, on his wood and ivory throne. At last, he spoke: 'As you may know, this has been a very dry year, and so a bad year for growing crops, so bad in fact that if things do not improve we will not have enough food to last us the winter. These are bad circumstances, you agree?'.

All of us nodded.

The shaman continued: 'Therefore myself and the elders have decided to beg for the help of the almighty Lord.', he paused, and a frown seeped into his face, 'We have decided to offer sacrifices, and you, as the youngest and purest virgins in our village, have been chosen'.

All of us were silent, the reality of this situation sinking slowly in. Then Aika shouted out, 'No... you cant!'. But everyone else knew her protest wouldn't make any difference. The village followed the shamans orders as though they came from God himself. There was no hope of six fifteen year old girls stopping the will of a whole village, none at all.

The two men barring the exits stepped forward with thick ropes, bound us, and carried us off to this forest we're in now.

We were told we are all to be cut at the throat when the sun sets.

None of us said a word.

There was a good chance that none of us would say a word again, ever.

Why did I have to live at this time, in this place, why couldn't I have been born in somewhere else, somewhere no one would do this, with parents, who would love and protect me, where I could live, where I could grow up safely, and find someone, someone who would love me, and who I would love back.

But no, that will never happen now, I was born here, in this stupid culture, with these stupid traditions, resulting in our death.

Hours ago I would not dream of thinking this, and if I had, I would have gone to the shaman immediately and confessed to my sins, hours ago.

Now I don't know what to think, why would our creator let, not just that, encourage people like me and my friends, people who have hardly even had a chance to live, be murdered in his name, what could he gain from it?

There had been other sacrifices of girls just like me, young, virgin, but they all seemed so, so, distant, like some rumour, some rumour that might not even be true.

But now it was very true, true to me, true to the other 5 girls bound to the tree along with me.

The villagers will stand up for me, wont they? No, they won't, I am... was a villager, and I never stood up for the people who were sacrificed. No, they won't stop the sacrifices, the shaman will tell them that this was all for the good of their families, that this was the only way, and they would believe it, like good villagers should.

We will be forgotten, the destiny of our lives has always been, even though no one could see it, to die. To die, for an illusion of hope, for false belief that this would save the people in our... their village.

But it wont. And it never will. Countless people before and after me have realised this in their fina; hours, tied to this old dead tree, their place of death.

Not long now, I can hear the shaman's feet striding with dreadful purpose through the forest to our tree, cold fear grips my heart. The girls I can see, Aika and Ekiana are both shedding silent tears.

The shaman arrives into the clearing and kneels down to sharpen the knife. Aika lets go a cry of deep, deep sorrow.

The shaman is finished, he stands up and takes three heavy, terrifying steps towards Ekiana.

She is shaking now, tears streaming down her face, quietly sobbing. The shaman holds her head up, exposing her quivering throat. I see him bring the sharp metal blade to her neck. Ekiana looks one last time into the shamans eyes, one look, full of pleading, but its not heeded. The shaman makes one quick movement and a thin line of crimson appears on her throat, she's choking, blood is streaming from the gash.

I watch the shaman step back and watch her. She's desperately trying to breathe, to live. But its no use, eventually all her life is gone, and she just hangs from the harsh rope.

The shaman moves away from me, to the next girl away from my left.

I am going to be last.

I'm sobbing now, my eyes are clenched shut, trying to shut out the choking of Hailli, my best friend, we helped each other through everything, she hugged and comforted me when my parents died, she was there for me when no one else was.

But now she's choking to death on the other side of a tree from me, and I cant do a thing about it. At last she fell silent, she was gone.

The shaman moves on.

Why did it have to be us, why us. I'd grown up with the people around me, we'd played together, we'd talked together, we'd gone through hard times together, and now, one by one, we're loosing each other.

I struggle against the bonds, the bonds which tradition and my village had tied round me, but it was no use, I don't even want to escape now, not now that the only people that care about me are gone.

Aika clenches my hand, she turns her head the best she can and looks at me with tear filled eyes.

'Be strong, Kienna,' she chokes out through crying, 'Be strong the best you can, for all of us'.

I see the shaman advance towards her.

I clench my eyes shut and span my head forward, not wanting to see, not wanting to hear. Not wanting to believe, I hold her hand tight.

And I feel her hand go limp.

I open my eyes, Aika is dead beside me, I'm the last one left. I'm alone. Its only me and the shaman left now.

There he is, standing in front of me, tall and dark against the sky.

And for the final time, he raises his cold sharp knife and presses it against my shaking throat.

Jay stepped slowly under the harsh orange lights, looking up at the large unmoving buildings of The School. He was gazing at it as if he were an outsider, not really of this world. Which he may as well have been, no one was watching him, he would know no different if the entire population of the world had disappeared. He was not anxious to get this over with.

Reaching the end of the path running along the front of his school, he paused and sat down. He always liked being alone like this, where he could trick some part of himself into believing that he was the only one alive. He could even rid himself of the emotional roller-coaster of the past month or so, and just feel quietly content. Nothing existed of the feeling of mixed panic and dread that plagued his evenings. Nothing existed of the hopelessness he felt. Nothing existed even of the ups he felt, love, happiness. 'Granting our wish is one of Fate's saddest jokes.'. That was all too true, the good feelings seemed to only serve to add contrast to the bad, which seemed to be much more persistent.

He picked himself up, slightly more solemn than before, instead of happily gazing around, he now trod his way down a road which sliced through The School, staring downwards mostly, hands in the pocket of his coat.

When he thought about it, really thought about it, there wasn't much reason to continue anyway. This way somehow seemed even more right as well. Everything was in order. The meaningful projects he had started on were to be taken care of by others. For the people he cared about he'd written them all something, not a small something, it had taken many sleepless nights to write it all, but he made sure that they all would know his mind. Got to have some consideration really.

There was a wall, in The School, on which some unruly year 11 leaver had daubed the words 'The Last time', in white paint. Despite The Schools efforts, this had not been able to be totally removed, although it seemed that no one apart from him noticed it. He thought it fitting, but he would add to it.

He reached that wall, stood eight or so metres away he ran his eyes up and down its surface, yes, it was definitely fitting. He took off the bag he had been carrying and removed the thick brush and white paint that he'd brought. He dipped the brush into the emulsion and raised it to the wall, and hesitated. A drop of paint fell to the floor with a splash that bought him to his senses. He decisively pushed the brush against the wall, and dragged it down. He dipped the brush again and, this time without any hesitation, pushed the brush against the wall as high as he could, then brought the brush down again, going over the previous stroke. Dipped the brush again, up and down, over the same spot.

Just one line, stretching from where the wall met the concrete floor, up for two or so metres. That's all. Casting his vote, expressing himself totally, with one stroke.

There was nothing left to do now, nothing to prolong the inevitable.

He rested his bag against the wall carefully, and removed his chosen implement.

Stood against the wall a few metres to the left of his last message. Safety catch off, he put the gun to his forehead. Seemed right that his intelligence should be destroyed first.

He looked around one last time, it was strangely beautiful, like some kind of dark urban oasis.

Several people heard the blast, but no one thought much of it.

John dropped down onto his seat in an obviously annoyed manner.

"What's up with you then?" a girl across the table from him taunted, she spoke

with long drawn out vowels.

"Chavs down the corridor being dicks again, fucking thugs," he responded,

almost growling with anger. Concern was perhaps the furthest thing from her

expression.

"Well in all fairness, Joe, you deserve it." she said, "you go around thinking

you're all that, you never give them the respect they deserve; especially

from someone like you,"

The class was dead silent for a moment, and then everyone laughed. John almost

couldn't contain his rage.

"Someone like me?"

"Yea, someone like you, you really do think you're so great don't you,"

"Who gave them the right to dish out punishment to anyone who doesn't worship

them?"

She didn't even blink, "We all have a duty as citizens to keep twats like you

in check. Can't have you messing around with us. They are just man enough to

establish their superiority." More laughter and cheers.

John had a new glint in his eye. "So what's my duty then?"

"Hah, kill yourself of course!" The edges of the class became a little uneasy

but the people who were sitting nearer carried on with their encouragement.

John quickly took out a small brown bottle from inside his jacket, put it to

his lips and swallowed the tablets inside. He then threw it down before the

girl. The class fell silent, the proud grin that was on her face beforehand

quickly faded. She looked on in shock and terror at what she had done. John's

elbow was slipping down the table now, but he never took his eyes off of her

until his head rolled off his hand. Face down onto the table.

The next time they saw him awake was when they'd administered some salt water.

He was throwing up in the toilet. At this point he opened his eyes and saw a

small brown bottle, identical to the other. He'd have laughed if he wasn't so

busy throwing up, the label read: Rick's extra strong mints.