Survival, the year 2029.

A dark world inspired by survival...
The kid was there again by the water fountain. He'd done nothing wrong, let me assure you. Even if he had he wouldn't deserve this, an endless torrent of abuse and insults from those that were 'strong', from those that classed themselves as survivalists, when once they would be classed as bullies. Yeah, welcome to home, the place in which nothing is a crime, nothing is wrong, except to help each other.
The bell rung for class, and the kid was still in a heap on the ground from his onslaught. The others were laughing and jeering, taunting him to get up. I ran to class. I'm ashamed of myself; but what could I do? To break the sacred law, as it was called in school, would be to defy the lives in which we lead in this place. It would be almost to stand up and have no regard for the rules in which our society and hierachy was set in. It was the survival of the fittest, even amongst those that were friends once.
I sat in my place, although not many others were in the class with me. It wasn't a crime any more to skip classes. No-one could stop those that did. They could have tried detaining them, but then they would break out. They could try punishing them and receive a punch for their troubles. So no-one tried to do anything.
It was later on in the day, when I was walking home. The streets were dark and empty, save for the glows of fires in the distance, from the people burning other people's houses. I walked along the alleyways, the way I normally walked home, and then I heard the woman being mugged, for no reason except for amusement. I saw, in my mind, the boy being beaten up at school. I saw, all the things wrong with the world, the darkness, the graffitti, the rubbish, everything.
I charged straight at the mugger, punched on the side of the head and just didn't stop hitting him.
"How would you like it?! Me hitting you for no reason?! You think you're so strong, I'll show you!!"
He ran off, blood pouring down his face. I looked at my fist in shock. I looked at the woman, crying on the floor, amongst the rubbish tips, and she just stared at me. I had done the unthinkable. I broke the only rule. I broke the rule of survival.  The punishment was death.
I ran away as fast as my legs would carry, to where I did not know. On and on I ran.
Straight into a survivalist enforcement officer. He pushed me to the floor, and from there I could smell his alcohol laden breath. I shuddered.
"You think our 24/7 satellites patrolling this area wouldn't pick you out? You're", his face turned into a thoughtful grimace,"what was it we used to say? Ah, yeah, your nicked sonny Jim."
Fast-forward in time to now, the 23rd of November of the year 2029, where I write my account, waiting for my punishment. Where did I live you might've asked. From where did I grow up in such a horrible place. I'll tell you. Earth, the fair planet which was once prosperous, now a wreck. Who'd had thought 20 years ago this was our future?