The memories are the most painful part. I've spent months thinking back on that fateful day, rehashing it in my mind and trying to come to terms with what happened to no avail. I also think back to our wedding day, the family and friends, the music and dancing, and the cake that said, 'Forevermore Jane and Nathan'.

How ironic and idyllic it all seems now. Our future seemed full of so much promise nearly a decade ago. But all that was before the war, before the new government came to power, before people were viewed not as individuals but as resources.

Now I am known solely as Six to denote me as a farmer, which is all anyone needs to know about me as far as the government is concerned. All day, every day I pick crops under the watchful eyes of the 'overseers', or the guards who make sure we do not slack off in the fields and fulfill our daily quotas.

While I became a Six, Jane became a Nine, or a seamstress as it would have been known in the past. Due to what we chalked up to luck at the time, we were sent to live in the same compound. We toiled day in and day out near to each other, but farther apart than we had ever been before. That is until three months ago.

I don't fault the guards for what happened as humans cannot be blamed for seeking to fulfill their basic needs. Guards, depite having complete control of the compound, receive measly rations since their number of 13 is in the same bracket as Six or Nine. Like everyone else, they must eat and they have the unique ability to provide themselves with ample sustenance. That being said, there is still plenty of guilt surrounding the whole incident.

The evening of the incident when we were lined up and the guards asked for volunteers, I said nothing just as I had every other time. Like the hordes of bugs that are always buzzing about the fields, our safety lay in our numbers. But one must be chosen and that day it was Jane.

''Nine!'' The guard shouted. ''Come forward! The better you comply, the faster it will be.''

Frozen by shock and fear, I stood and watched as my dear Jane held her head high while being escorted up to the main guard. I almost managed to say something, to offer to take her place, but the words were cowardly lost in my throat.

What came next was not pleasant. The blows started mere seconds after she arrived in front of the main guard. Suffice it to say, when a government fears an insurrection so the best weapons it gives to lowly guards are short, hollow batons made of wood, death does not come quickly.

Naturally, things have changed for me since that day, more so even than the day when I became known by Six instead of Nathan. I lost my will to live as I lost my only reason to live.

If you're reading my brief description of the end of our days, I hope your life is better than our lives were. My reasoning for burying this account in the fields because the government must be held accountable for every evil deed, including the deaths of Jane and myself.

I include my own demise because I know from the day of writing, it is imminent. Of this I am certain. I have already chosen to not make the same mistake twice. The guards will again ask for volunteers and this time I will not stay silent. The only thing left for me in life is to give another family a chance at survival. I don't want pity and nothing I will do can atone for my past mistakes. I just want you to remember.

For soon we will again be, 'Forevermore Jane and Nathan'.