Vivian Cassy

Some may call me lucky. In the eyes of some, sure it's true. I never once starved and always had a roof over my head. Then again, it's a shame that basic rights place me in a position of fortune among my peers. 

In truth, I am royally fucked....and in more ways than one. Nobody will ever see that though, not anybody of worth. In a world where magic runs rampant, it's the last thing you want to have. Your whole being is at the mercy of the government. At any point can it be your end. Especially under the age of eighteen since, I could see everything for what it is. 

"Hello?" I answer, feeling the gazes of my equally startled classmates. Who admittingly were just as confused as I was. But still a discomforting feeling, nonetheless. 

"The paperwork for your school transfer is complete." Says a robotic voice, before the phone starts to viciously vibrate. 

Feeling the vibration in my hand, I did what any normal person would do.... chucking it across the room as hard as feasibly possible. Successfully resulting in the destruction of the government monitoring device. A feat unheard of by the general population. 

I mean it's a perfectly justifiable reaction. Surely, they won't give a teenager treason over a broken cellphone. With a little wishful thinking, I may not shatter my sanity into ten million pieces. 

School transfer? There is only one public school in the whole capital. Not wanting to inflict another penalty onto my current state of being, like a good student, I sat back down at my desk diligently taking notes on anti-witchcraft propaganda. The first time I had ever done such a thing. 

Witches are normal people directly tied up with the government. From the moment they display signs of abnormality, they're either executed on the spot or used for military purposes. Realistically, they pose no threat to us human beings, assuming there is never a rebellion. Even so, any gun can kill just as much as a witch can. 

To my surprise, for the rest of the school day, no government official swooped in after the whole cellphone incident. No executioner came for my head. The teacher herself didn't even say anything about it , as if she knew about the whole ordeal. For the first time, I walked home without a tracker. 

Maybe people were watching me from afar. Because of that probable thought, I went straight home instead of dawdling around the city. I lived in a large house towards the outskirts, about the equivalent to what the government's children lived in. Except, unlike the government's children I don't have a fallback in case I did something stupid. My set of parents waited for me outside the front gates, another action completely out of the ordinary. 

"Did you get the notification?" My mother asks, scanning for the cellphone that is absent from my jean pockets. 

I didn't say anything only nodding my head in agreement. 

"It wasn't a bug; you are transferring to the private school owned by the government." She announces. 

Nobody asked for the location of the destroyed cellphone. Nobody visited my house to send me away. I couldn't even bring myself to ask why this is all happening. 

Today, I didn't go to my normal school per request of my father. My father and I had a more stable relationship in comparison to what I had with my mother. If I were to ever go away someday, I'm almost completely certain he's the only soul who will ever miss me. He's also the only one who bothered to explain anything to me. It brought a river of happiness into my heart that he decided to take time off work to help me pack. 

He pulled out a pristine, white duffle bag with the governments' logo embroidered in gold. A belonging that few people had access to. Only those who work for the government get special treatment. Besides if born in the capital, it's forbidden to leave. In a way, making it all the more peculiar as to the origins of the bag. 

I am not a child of the capital by birth. I yearn for a normal life. After graduation, I planned to leave this country all together. Then at least, I wouldn't have to hear nonsense about witchcraft every other day. At least I wouldn't have my every movement tracked.

He pulled out several sets of clothes I had never worn before, or even known I had, carefully into the white bag. His face blank, apart from the guilt pooling in the backs of his eyes. 

"Vivian Cassy, I hear by accuse you of being a witch." Father says aloud with a firm voice. "Buzz buzz buzz buzz", the phone in his back pocket vibrates aggressively. With each vibration his eyes spilling more regret. With each noise my heart sped up some.

He zips up the white bag, placing it carefully on the bed. Sitting next to the bag, his eyes stare into mine. "I'm sorry Vivian" he mouths, before turning to face the window. The government cars are already here. No sirens. No warnings. Here is where my life comes to an end. 

There is nowhere to run. There is nowhere to hide. My death sentence has been bestowed upon my head. 

My mother opens the door to my bedroom, she had been home all along. For the first time showing a sense of kindness towards me, as if possessed grabbing my hand. The feeling of her skin is warm, almost sedating. She gently pulls me along to the front door, without the slightest best of force. My father follows closely behind, gripping the duffle bag in his hand. 

A man in a black uniform waited at the door, his face dull and body calm. He didn't care for what I had to say, if I had bothered to say anything. To him, I am just another life at the hands of the government. 

Part of me wanted to shout out that I wasn't a witch. That there is no evidence but a mere accusation. However, there was. I lacked my cellphone, which is in pieces on the classroom floor.