Cruel Punishment (original story)

In a world where women are only allowed to have one child a twelve year old girl called Ola Marshall lives in the attic.
Ola and Una were twins and when they were born their Mother had to choose which child would have to spend her life inside and which child she would show the outside world. Una was shown to the world and Ola had to hide in the house.
This is the story of Ola.

Chapter 1

Law of the land

My name is Ola Marshall. Before I was born a law was passed that no woman could have more than one child. If a woman had more than one child and never told the Government the youngest would be killed as a baby along with their Mother. So, on the 31st of March millions of babies born that day were slaughtered for being born second or third or fourth or fifth.
Some dared to rebel against the government.
They were shot.
Nowadays the government are practically looking for excuses to kill people: if you kill someone without reason or permission you are shot. If you steal anything from a tonne of gold to a stale loaf of bread you are shot, the harshest and strictest rule of all though is mocking the government, if you so much as gossip to your neighbour that you disagree with the government about it you are shot immediately.
I saw them once.
I remember it vividly. I was seven years old and staring through the cracks between the cracks in the blinds of my attic bedroom. I saw a black car pull up by our road. Black was the colour of the government. They drove black cars, wore black suits, had black hair and the emotionless tranquil in their cold eyes could be described as a black hole.
I was immediately very scared- I thought they'd come for me. I was so worried, if they knew about me our family would be slaughtered like animals. I was relieved to see they went to next doors porch and thumped their hard fist against the door.
About one minute later our neighbour opened the door. Mr Reynolds was a short little man and was wearing a pair of blue striped pyjamas and some old brown slippers. It was typical nightwear for an old man.
Mr Reynolds was very old- seventy nine in fact.
He never lived to be eighty.
The black-clothed figure was asking the man something. He shook his head rapidly and shouted out as the figure ruthlessly pulled him out into the middle of the pavement which was lit by the dim street lights.
I could see him clearly, I wish I hadn't.
It was clear to see as they pulled his head down and pressed the top of the gun on the back of his neck. It was clear to see the figures finger savagely pull the trigger.
The ear-splitting sound echoed through the streets.
The sound marked the man's death.
There was little blood from what I could see, only the smallest trickle from under where the bullet hit. Yet that smallest trickle shone scarlet even in the dim light.
Carelessly, the figure tossed the old man's body into the back their van.
Maybe there were other bodies in the back of the black clothed figure’s van. Maybe there were many- I didn't see, I didn't want to.
The next day when the sun rose at dawn and everyone woke up the sky flashed white as it does every morning after the news broadcast. People who died the day before flashed on the screen. First was Jane Marley, age thirty, died 1:35 AM in a car crash. The list went on for a few minutes. They were arranged chronologically; earliest to latest; eventually death forty-three appeared. "Joseph Reynolds, age seventy nine, died 11:56; death was punishment for mockery of the government".
We later found out he had been killed for telling the woman who lives across the road on Cuthbert Drive that he never thought the government should have as much power.
I wish it never happened.

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