I opened my eyes. I looked around, confused. I was in a dull, somber room. No windows, no doors, none that I could see at least. I was sitting on the ground. It was cold and damp. I felt as though I was in a void. Not a single noise entered my ears. Not a single smell wafted from the emptiness that was around me.
There was a gray concrete floor, grey walls, and a gray ceiling. A single lightbulb hung by a chain from the ceiling, though there was no switch in sight. Next to the lightbulb there was a circle on the ceiling with a hexagonal pattern. I came to the conclusion that it must have been a speaker of some sort.
Then I saw them. Three other men sitting in each corner of the room. I myself was in the last corner. I saw that all of them were tied up, and then I realized that I was tied up as well. All four of us had thick rope binding our feet. The rope was tied into a metal loop screwed into the floor. Our hands were tied behind our backs and I imagine that they were attached to something similar to our feet. Our abdomens were also bound and attached to the wall. We were all in a sitting position with our backs to the wall and each wall was about ten feet long so we could see and hear each other, but not make any physical contact.
The man in the corner on my left was wearing denim blue jeans, white tennis shoes, and a plain red cotton shirt. The man in the corner across from me was wearing the same thing, although his shirt was yellow. Lastly the man in the corner on my right had the same attire, the only change being that his shirt was green. The other men had begun to wake up when my previous assumption was proven correct.
Out of the speaker that was next to the light bulb came a voice that was neither in a high tone nor a low one, a voice that gave no hint as to who was speaking. This voice uttered one word and one word only: “Choose.”
As I heard these words I was perplexed. Then I realized the bitter truth of the situation that I was in. Although the other men heard the same words I was certain that they were meant for me. How you may ask? Well, it was then that I noticed the three iron anvils suspended over each of the three men’s heads. Each vast anvil was placed exactly over the tender skull of each man. It was attached to a rope that on the other end was connected to a hook on the ceiling. The stem of the hook lead back into a hole in the ceiling which I assumed was how one would retract the hook by some control board somewhere causing the anvil to fall onto its victim. Which I now understood that I would be choosing.
The men groggily opened there eyes and began to mumble in a scared and confused manner.
“What, what is this?” spoke the one in the yellow shirt.
“Where am I?” said the one wearing the green shirt.
“Mmm, um, what?” red shirt said as he came to consciousness, “Who are you?”
I didn’t want to frighten any of the men so I did not speak of what was looming over their heads hoping that they would not notice themselves. I also did not speak of the choice that I was silently trying to make inside my head to prevent any sorrow. I wanted to get to know these three men so that I could make the most ethical decision possible. I decided that I would talk about myself first to warm them up to the idea of speaking to one another.
“Hello, my name is William Peck. I’m thirty eight years old. I’m currently living in Everett, Massachusetts. I’m a web designer and I work at home. I am single and live alone in my city apartment. I’m not religious. I am an only child with two living parents. My mother’s name is Lynda Peck, and my fathers name is James Peck. I grew up in Everett, Massachusetts and plan to stay there. One day I went to a coffee shop for free Wi-Fi because mine wasn’t working. Because it was faster, I decided to walk home through an alley that led back to my apartment. Then I felt something hard hit me in the back of the head. Then everything went black. The next thing I knew I ended up here. Where are you all from?”
They had started to adjust themselves and pay attention to my story. They all seemed to understand and agree that talking about ourselves was a good idea.
The next person to convey their story was the man in the yellow shirt in the corner across from me. He looked somewhat young. He had fair skin like me but with a great deal of freckles. His hair was light and sandy. I have perfect vision so I could see that his eyes were a crystal blue unlike my boring brown eyes. He had a long, skinny, pointed nose that stuck out like carrot. I listened closely as he told his story hesitantly, and frightful.
“Hi, I’m Byron. My last name is Cathman. I am thirty seven. I recently got married to the love of my life, Sarah Cathman. We are Catholic. We own a small business together. It is a cupcake bakery called “Cathman’s Sweet Shop”. My wife and I are expecting a baby. She is three months pregnant and we wanted its gender to be a surprise. We just finished painting the nursery for our baby. The theme is turtles because my wife absolutely adores turtles. We live in a little house in a neighborhood just outside of New York City. I’m also an only child. My father left my mother when I was three so she remarried when I was six. Her name is Ann Collier and my step-father’s name is Jim Collier. They live in Texas in a condo on the beach. I moved to New York when I was twenty four to find business. Then I met Sarah and we got married six months ago.”
I felt bad for him knowing that he must have been missing his wife. As he continued speaking, his tone changed. He began speaking in a shaky manner as he told us his abduction story. 
“One day we ran out of vanilla extract at the bakery so I went to the store to get some more. As I was walking to my car someone put a knife up to my back and told me to get in the passenger’s seat. He had a mask on so I couldn’t tell who it was, though I was pretty sure that it was a man. He got in the driver’s seat and the next thing I knew he pulled out a needle with some fluid inside and stuck it in my arm. The last thing I thought of before I blacked out was my wife and my unborn child. Then I woke up here. I have no idea how long it has been since that happened. I don’t know what day it is and it’s driving me crazy not knowing what’s going on or why I am here or who did this.”
The man who spoke next was the man in the corner adjacent to Byron, “red shirt”, as I called him in my head. He had deep black skin and hair that was cut very close to his scalp. His eyes were a rich and dark brown swirl of color. His features were young and crisp. He looked almost like a shiny new toy that had not faced the cruel and harsh world yet. His face was cleanly shaven and his hair trimmed perfectly. Unlike my stubbly face and brown rat’s nest on my head. His face was hard and mean. He showed no emotion accept for his eyes. You could see the fear in them. He was scared, I knew, he didn’t show it in the way he held himself, but his eyes told everything he was feeling. He held his head up as he calmly explained his life ad how he got put in this wretched room.
“Hello, my name is Anthony Houston. I am twenty four years of age. I am Jewish. I am currently in my last year of medical school at the University of Indiana. I live in an apartment right outside the campus. I share the apartment with my twin sister Julie, who is also in medical school at the University of Indiana. I am single and focusing on my career. When I graduated high school I was accepted into Stanford, however I declined the offer because of my mother, Camila Houston. Seven years ago my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. We couldn’t afford to pay for out of state tuition and my mother’s treatment. Instead, I decided to stay close to home in Indiana so that I could take care of my mother. My father’s name is Anton Houston and he is a dentist. Both of my parents love and support me so very much. One night my sister was staying over at a friend’s house so I had the apartment to myself. Though I am not sure how long ago this was. I went to bed early and then I woke up here. I am a very deep sleeper so it couldn’t have been hard for someone to take me in my sleep. Though I lock all the windows and doors every night. I guess this is what I get for sleeping so hard.”
Lastly, green shirt spoke. He was restrained in the corner to my right. He was by far the oldest of the group. He had grey hair and a medium length grey beard. I could tell he had lived a long life, seen and been through some stuff. You could see it on his face. His eyes were sunken in and his lips were small and tight. He had a wide nose and big ears. His face was covered in wrinkles. They were on his forehead, cheeks, and chin. His neck and arms were starting to sag. He looked as though he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for a long while. But one thing stood out of his dull gray features. His eyes shone a bright hazel. They were easy eyes, the kind you could look into and talk to for hours. He was the last of all of us to speak, and when he did, it was one of the most southern accents that I ever heard.
“Good afternoon, or morning, or whatever time of the day it is. My name is Cornell, George Cornell. I’ve been on this here earth for some sixty seven years now. I am a diehard southern Baptist. I have a farm in Tupelo, Mississippi. I lived there with my wife Nancy for thirty five years. She passed away two years ago. I miss her every day of my life. I got two sons, Paul and Raymond. They both run off and got hitched and had children of their own. They blessed me with two beautiful grandkids each, and I love them all something fierce. Both of my parents have been gone for a while now. I had one older sister who was six years older than me. She passed away when she was forty because of kidney disease, it was real sad. I never went to college, couldn’t afford it. These days all I do is farm, eat, and read the paper. One morning I was out in the fields when I got real hot and dizzy. I passed out and woke up to a masked figure getting me up. As I tried to fight back he shot something in my arm that made me pass out again. I reckon it was the same stuff that he shot into buddy over there. Next thing I knew, I was here with you fine fellows. I guess that’s about it.”
We had all spoken now. I started to think about who I was gonna choose. I just couldn’t do it. I was afraid that if I didn’t choose soon, something even worse would happen. But I just couldn’t do it. Anthony had his entire life ahead of him. Not to mention a career that could take him places. He had a sister that loved him and a mother that needed him. But I couldn’t choose Byron either. He just got married! He was expecting a baby! I couldn’t bare the thought of his wife raising that sweet little baby on her own. Then there was George. Yeah his parents, sister, and wife were already gone, but he had kids, and grandkids. Why did I have to choose? I just couldn’t do it!
The whole time that I was frantically trying to decide in my head, no one said a single word. The whole room was dead silent. I knew that they must have been so confused not knowing what was going on.
I knew I had to choose but I just couldn’t do it. I had no idea how long we had been in here or how long I had to make my decision. The anvils hanging over the men’s heads were staring at me, driving me insane. Thoughts were swirling in my brain. Who do I choose? Whose life has the most meaning? Do I choose someone who hasn’t lived yet, or has seen all that there is to see? Who has the most to live for? None of them seemed ready to die. I didn’t know what to do. I drove myself mad! There were so many voices yet none of them coming from the room. They were all in my head, in the midst of my insanity the man across from me made eye contact with me. Byron, the one in the yellow shirt. He then uttered one single word: “Blue.”
It wasn’t until then that I looked down and noticed that I was wearing denim blue jeans, white tennis shoes, and a plain blue cotton shirt. Fear struck my heart, and my blood ran cold as I slowly looked up and saw it. The immense, petrifying anvil hanging right over my head.