As she stood at the dawn-lit edge of the camp, Emily's eyes locked onto the recruiter's outstretched hand. The worn leather of her father's flight jacket creaked in protest as she shifted her weight, the weight of her new life. Nineteen years old, and she was already leaving behind the only life she'd ever known.

Memories of her childhood flooded her mind like a bittersweet tide. Her father, a heroic pilot, had been gone since she was a toddler, forced into the war like many Africans. Her mother, a pillar of strength, had raised Emily and her younger siblings, Sarah and paul, on her own. Their small, cozy house had been filled with laughter and love, but also with the quiet, unspoken struggles of a single parent.

Their mother had provided for their every need, working tirelessly to ensure they lacked nothing essential. But wants were a different story altogether. Emily remembered the countless times she'd asked for a new book or a doll, only to be met with a gentle but firm "maybe next time, sweetie." Her mother's sacrifices had not gone unnoticed, and Emily had grown up with a deep-seated respect for the value of hard work and selflessness.

As Emily grew older, a restless hunger gnawed within her. She devoured books on history, politics, and war, mesmerized by stories of courage and sacrifice. But alongside fascination, a spark of outrage ignited. She seethed at the tales of slavery, her people fighting and dying for a cause that wasn't theirs, for people they didn't believe in.

The recruiter's arrival in their town was a harbinger of fate. Emily's fate. She was plucked from her family, torn from her mother's arms, and thrust into a world of chaos. A rifle was forced into her hands, its weight a cold, unforgiving reality. The instructions were stark: eliminate strangers labeled 'enemies.' But Emily held no hatred, no animosity. Only a deep, abiding sense of obedience, drilled into her by the ever-present threat of violence.

In the eyes of her oppressors, Emily's life was worth less than the enemy's. A hundred black lives were mere pawns, expendable in the grand game of chess. Her mother, torn apart by grief and worry, had no choice but to obey the ruling of the oppressive government. Tears streamed down her face as she watched her daughter being taken away, lost to a war that wasn't hers to fight."

"You're just like your father," she'd whispered, her voice trembling. “So brave, so strong. But oh, Emily, my baby, please come back to me.”

Emily's heart had swelled with emotion as she'd hugged her mother tightly, the familiar scent of her perfume and the softness of her hair a bittersweet reminder of all she was leaving behind.

As Emily stood at the threshold of her new life, the weight of her reality settled upon her like a mantle, its unexpected heaviness shocking her. The cool morning air filled her lungs as she took a deep breath, the scent of damp earth and smoke lingering in the background. With a firm voice and a heart racing with trepidation, she said, “I'm ready.”

The recruiter's gaze lingered on her, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he chuckled dryly to himself. "Oh, how the war would break her," he thought, his mind seasoned by the countless bright-eyed recruits he had seen. Most were consumed by the war, their fire quenched, their lives lost. He looked at Emily again, his smile a thin, knowing line. The light in her eyes sparkled, a fleeting promise of trouble amidst the despair.