Due to the nature of this fic, it's going to be pretty dark at times, just a warning. But as Dumbledore once said, "Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if only one remembers to turn on the light."

The Mysterious Light from the outside trickled in slightly as the Handler pushed open the door. "Number 20683?" the gruff-faced ghoul called out.

Number 19348, along with everyone else who wasn't Number 20683 sighed in relief; they would be allowed to live another day. For now.

As soon as the Handler led the frightened-looking 20683 out through the Doors of Fate from the huge warehouse, the whisperers commenced.

He was such a good worker.

He was so kind to all the Littles.

He still owed me a pack of smokes.

Too bad none of that mattered now. All memories of 20683 would fade away as quickly as it took him to walk across the warehouse floor to his doom. And such was the fate of all humans.

At least it was all 19348, and everyone else in the room has ever known.

19348 had been raised in the 3rd Ward processing plant with her family, and just like all humans at her age under the care of ghouls, was sent away to a breeding farm as soon as she hit puberty. 19348 heard a rumor once that this was how humans used to treat others - animals and other people - and now we were just getting what we deserved. That was only a rumor though.

You hear lots of rumours growing up in a processing plant, and even more when you get sent to the farm. It's like since humans have no other thing that brings them joy, they must gossip and cut down other people. Nobody's your friend after you get sent away from your parents.

Luckily for 19348, she was classified as 'very' fertile. She didn't know what that meant, other than the fact that she would be allowed to live a few years longer than the other humans as long as she kept doing what she has been doing. After the fourth one though, they just seemed to walk out. Piece of cake.

As for the Handlers, they didn't really seem to bother much with the humans. It wasn't a glorious job for a ghoul, but hey, it payed the bills. Luckily for ghouls, humans were pretty self-reliant, and required little maintenance. They were fairly inexpensive to keep, as they could grow their own food and could keep track of their nutrients on their own. Not to mention they could clean up after themselves, and although they stank after a while, a simple bath before being sent to the processing plant would do the trick.

"I'm next!" shouted a Crier from somewhere in the crowded store house. 19348 knew that voice, and took it up as a sort of moral duty to help pacify the Criers, but decided not to deal with it tonight. It was a young girl who arrived at the farm nearly 11 months ago, and she still had not conceived. Which was a problem. "Help me! Please, somebody! I'm next!" her shrill voice rang out and reverberated from the cold stone walls. For females, by the end of the first year at the farms if you still didn't have any babies, you were considered 'infertile'.

What happened to you after that was up to chance. If you got off easy, you were sometimes sent to the 'veterinarian', where experiments would take place. A lot of these 'successful' experiments, they were told, were sent to other farms. A lot of times though, you didn't make it back. Either way, it was a whole lot better to go to the veterinarian than to go through the Doors of Fate, where you knew there was no chance in hell of you coming back.

And so 19348 pressed her palms up against her ears as she continued her walk over to her cot in the warehouse. At the Farm, you were given a personal cot in the public vicinity to sleep on that you could use whenever you wanted as long as you weren't on the schedule for 'work'.

The warehouse itself was surrounded by crop fields, and then sectioned off by barbed wire, in where they were assigned to work for their own food - all extras were sent to the processing plants. There was also a separate building adjacent to the warehouse, which everyone just called "The Field" ironically.

In The Field, there were rows and rows of private rooms where you were supposed to go to fulfil the other necessary 'work' of the farm. How it was supposed to go, was a man and a woman were to prearrange a time and check it off in the logbook in the front desk where Handlers were stationed, making sure everyone had logged in enough nights.

Although a lot of the younger ones still did this, after a while you just sort of get used to writing your name down on any available blank slot without looking and 'surprise' yourself the night of. In fact, most did this.

What was nice though, was when you were pregnant you didn't have to go to The Field. Which was why 19348 was getting nervous. In her going on seven years at the farms, she had birthed 8 children. One pair being twins, and her last set being triplets.

That was probably the reason why the Handlers had let her get away so long without going to the Field – nearly two years. She had birthed them enough children for the next three years, but she could sense their patience fading. The ghouls were known for losing their temper.

"Hey Blue!" called out one of her bunk mates.

Although at work, in The Field and during work hours, they would all call each other by their Tag Numbers, at night they would call each other by the colors of their Tags. Nobody really knew what the color code system meant, but it gave all of them a way to be more personal with each other in a way the Handlers didn't seem to mind so much.

Although there could be a bunch of people with the same color tag as you, hardly anybody ever called you that anyway, so it didn't even matter if two people with blue tags were conversing.

"I figured you were busy tonight so I picked up your schedule for you," her bunk mate, Pink, said. The woman handed over the small card, sitting down carefully on her own bed.

"Thanks," Blue mumbled back, glancing down at her card.

Monday – Nursery.

Tuesday – Kitchen.

Wednesday – Nursery.

Thursday – Kitchen.

Friday – The Field.

Saturday – Dishroom.

19348 sighed. They had actually written The Field down on her schedule.

"Hey, don't look so down," said Pink sympathetically, caressing her own huge, swollen belly. "I heard a rumor today that conditions for humans used to be much worse."

"Never believe the rumours. How many times do I have to tell you..." Blue trailed off at her friend. Pink had been one of the lucky ones to actually find a Mate in this hell hole, and she knew who the father of all of her children were. Not all of them were so lucky.

"But I think this one might be true!" Pink said. It was obvious she would not relent.

Blue nodded, signaling for her to go on while she stretched out on her own cot.

"Somebody said that the ghouls used to keep us humans in dungeons underground," she continued, and Blue rolled her eyes.

Not another 'this is how things used to be' rumour again, she thought disdainfully, but dutifully listened. Out of all the humans at the farm, Blue hated 19930, Pink the least.

"But humans kept dying off due to diseases," she continued. "And of course, that reflects bad for the Handlers, so then they improved conditions."

"And everything is just sunshine and rainbows now then?" Blue snapped back, not really expecting an answer.

Pink took the hint and lied down on her side. "I'm just saying, you should try to look at the bright side. You're always are so negative."

Blue mumbled something about there being no bright side, and then quickly fell asleep.

…...

It wasn't until Thursday afternoon that the Handler came in from the Door of Fate and announced the number Blue had always feared - the number he called that haunted her nightmares, night after night: "19348!"

Immediately Blue's stomach sank and her thoughts raced. Was that an eight at the end or some other number? Why was she being summoned now of all times? Her infertile years weren't up yet! This wasn't fair!

"I said number 19348!" repeated the Handler at the Door. Ghouls were impatient, and weren't pretty when they were angry.

Slowly, trembling, Blue walked up the stairs to her own Fate. She didn't think that this day would ever come, at least not anytime soon. Was there anything that she could have done? Could have done differently? Was there a way to escape her Fate, or was her Fate around her the whole time? Humans that were bred only for food could only have one ending, so why was she entertaining this fantasy that she was so special all this time?

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, almost inaudibly to the Handler who stood in front of the Door of Fate, tapping his pen impatiently on the clipboard in his hand. "I'm sorry. But you must have some mistake," she whispered as soon as she reached the top step, just feet away from the Handler. "My year isn't up yet," she choked out.

Ever since her first year at the farm away from her parents, she vowed to never let a ghoul see her cry, but she was already choking up. Hot tears poured uncontrollably from her eyes.

Ignoring her, the ghoul scribbled something on his notepad and opened the door, flooding the warehouse with the Mysterious Light that didn't come from the sun. At first Blue couldn't bring herself to take those steps through the doorway, so the Handler had to give her a little shove.

"No!" she cried, finding strength somewhere within herself. She turned around and bolted back towards the farm. She didn't know were she would go, what she was running towards. A return to captivity? But she knew she did not want to die yet. She didn't want to live her life locked up behind bars, behind a barb wired fence, behind cold, dead stone. She wanted to live, and even though she didn't really know what living meant she knew it was something more than the farms, more than the processing plants, more than The Field.

She heard a rumour once that not all humans were living trapped by ghouls. That somewhere out there, beyond the fields of vegetables and wheat, that there were humans resisting the ghouls. Blue lived by the principle that all rumours were false, but this one stuck with her, and she could not shake it. Perhaps if she could run and keep running towards the abyss, through the wire that held her in, she could find what she was looking for.

But she was already pinned to the ground and being restrained by the Handler who brought her, with little effort. Such was her fate.

"Listen to me you stupid human," sneered the ghoul from on top of her. Ghouls rarely ever talked with humans, and when they did it was always with burning hate and a deep hunger.

"I'd kill you right here if I could, but it looks like you've been requested by someone higher up than me."

Blue stared blankly into the Handler's horrifying face contorted with anger and malice, not allowing herself to cringe or feel fear. If she was going to die, she wouldn't give up so easily. Although she had no idea what his words meant, she knew that it must mean she was not going to die, at least not right away.

Finding in herself a newfound passion for living, she gathered within her dry mouth some saliva, and with all her strength, spit in the Handler's face.

And then all went black.