They found me when I was at my weakest point and that's all I know. I've been stuck here for what feels like forever with no hope left in me. This world was once a place I felt safe enough to not hide what is truly inside me but when life gives you something rare, there are people who will come in and try to suck you dry of it.

Literally.

Some time ago, years before we had to turn to cryonics, it didn't matter what color I bled. Earth was a place of heaviness, weighed down by the weight of humanity aging every second. There was a time when people accepted aging as inevitable, from the lines around their eyes to the delicate skin that revealed their years. Humanity used to accept death when it was time... now we cheat it every chance we get.

Even if it means turning a human body into a science experiment.

"You ready for breakfast?" a guard said as he opened my cell. The guards are trained to be nice yet firm when necessary. They try to make this place feel like we volunteered to do this. I pushed myself up and out of the bed, hearing each joint pop on its way to standing up before walking out of my cell to go join the other prisoners in the breakfast line.

Each person I pass has their own story. The woman and her baby who survived a near death birthing experience, only to be sent to a prison camp after what was supposed to be a private birth. The little girl who thought her parents would fight the system for her but turned her in for a lifetimes worth of financial abundance. The old man who hid away for years, only to be discovered in a time of tragedy. They all bleed the same color as me, something out of their control being used to overpopulate the world and age millionaires backwards.

As I waited in line for my breakfast, I scan my arms to see where they might draw blood from next. I'm hoping one day I'll get a saving grace and won't have to think like that anymore but for now, it's focusing on how to survive each day and not let all the blood loss make me feel too drained. Who knows what they do to the bodies after it can't handle anymore? They limit us to 3 pints a week, but everyone's body chemistry is different. Some just don't recover like others do.

When I was found by the BBRG (Black Blood Research Group), my people who helped hide me for so long weren't with me. I don't even remember what happened before waking up here in the medical area. All I remember right now is that a few weeks ago, I woke up thinking I was being saved when in reality, I was slowly being killed. In this dystopian world, everyone is so obsessed with anti-aging that they prey on those who bleed differently than them.

After breakfast, I was pulled to do my last pint of the week. I used to give them trouble at first, refusing to hydrate or eat so it was harder to get my blood, but they proved the more I fight, the meaner they got. It's easier to blend in for now, at least till I get my memory back. I need to figure out what happened before getting sent here. I went from seeing nothing but a sea of trees to seeing nothing but a sea of black jumpsuits, full of frail humans who were begging for a break.

As I wait in the medical exam room, I hear a voice enter, "Mel. Glad to see you have been more relaxed recently. I hope you know how much the world appreciates your sacrifice. One bleeds. One thrives." It was as if someone threw a brick at my head, giving me a flashback to hearing that same phrase before I called this hell hole my home. Suddenly, the memory of a woman with long red hair finding me in the woods while I was throwing up blood comes to mind. Same voice, same red hair, same phrase. One bleeds. One thrives.

"Where exactly did you find me?" I asked, stunning the red-haired doctor.

She stood there for a while, looking me up and down, probably wondering where my memory came from. They stopped hand cuffing me to the exam room bed recently due to good behavior. Little did they know that might have been a mistake.

"I didn't find you. You volunteered to be here for the greater good of humanity." she replied. I shook my head at her, not accepting her answer as the truth, "Mel, you know me. We've developed this doctor to patient relationship for a couple of weeks now." I see her eyes scan the room until they land on a button near the front door labeled 'Emergency Assistance'. If she is about to make a move, then so am I.

I reached for the sharpest thing I could find near me, which happened to be a scalpel on a surgical table next to the bed and ran towards her. She nearly got away if it wasn't for me grabbing onto her long ponytail, yanking her back. I threw my arm around her neck with the scalpel to her throat and whispered in her ear.

"One bleeds. One thrives."