The Murder Game: Day 008
[After the booth closes, you all return to your rooms and the doors shut. You know that they will be locked until midnight and all you can do to pass the time is wait. Some of you are nursing wounds, wounded pride and the frail and weak think your entire being as become. The room is plain and you have to lean against your partner for the other warm because the temperature seems to be constantly dropping.
The lights seem to be getting dimmer too, as if each life that passes on is another candle snuffed out. The darkness lurks and you wonder vaguely if you're accepting of that darkness. At this point, there is no fight left in you, only the primal instinct. Survival. But even that is starting to dwindle because you've long gone past the state of human and beyond animalistic. You have become hollow. Emotions have no filter, no barrier. You are raw.
And that rawness burns. It claws at your soul and throat and twists your word. You wish there was rationality left in some part of your body but even that has abandoned you. Impulses are wild and untamed, even by the most basic and primal instincts and as you sit on your bed, contemplating this, you come to a sickening realisation.
You've become a monster.
As this feeling sinks into you, the door of your room opens. For a moment, you stay there curled up, not willing to face the fact that you have killed another set of people. Another set of monsters. People just like you. Just as scared, just as tired and just as guilty as you all are. Then, you stand up. You have to pay your respects, say goodbye to those that have died for you. Your partner walks beside you. Feet drag.
Step. Step. Step. Others move just as slowly and there is no gathering around the television. Everyone keeps near their doors and their partners. Almost constant contact is kept. This person is your lifeline. Your last chance to be sane. This person is your last shot at rationality because this person is the truth to you. All you know to be pure and right. Truth. And you can only trust your partner. There is comfort in that, small and insignificant as it is.
The two doors to join the others are doors Number 10 and Number 11. The blood is nearly dry. Obviously the killers and the executioner didn't wait to make the kills. Things are getting exciting for them.
The TV flicks on. White screen, black text.]
The third poll has closed and the wolves have made their choice.
The executioner has made his kill.
Results:
The wolves' prey: Garci and Ion.
The accused: Peter and Yao.
You have successfully killed off an innocent pair.
The wolves still live.
And they will kill again.
[You killed an innocent. Dear sweet Peter and the protective Yao. Poor things really. A child. One was the youngest among you, freshly married, a life full of choices and opportunities in front of him. Snuffed out by your vote. Gone from the world. The other, an older brother, well he didn't have much to live for, his brother already gone by the merciless wolves that still prowl among you. But he would've lived a long and healthy life, would've kept the memory of his brother alive. But now he's dead. Zhi is dead, Yao is dead. You wonder vaguely if you could've saved them.
No. No you couldn't have. Not without sacrificing the life of your partner and yourself. You are more important than the others. You need to live, need to get out of here, need to move on and try desperately to forget this place. And you know you won't but you push that thought aside as the camera flicks on in Peter and Yao's room. Same angle every time. It's almost boring. Almost.
You watch with dull eyes as Gilbert walks in. He surveys his two targets with an aloof gaze and without warning he strikes. Yao is first because Yao is a threat, knows how to fight. Gilbert almost loses but you know that he won't. No skin was withstand a bullet or a knife and soon Yao falls. The tiny Sealander launches himself at Gilbert but the Prussian merely picks him up by the thick blond hair. He laughs, you seem him shaking with it as the flailing boy attempts to strike him.
You blink and in that moment, Peter's corpse is on top of Yao's bleeding out into a large and sick puddle.
The screen changes so fast you barely have to time to collect yourself. And then you blink. What's different here? The two people... They're hovering? Swaying side-to-side. They look peaceful and you wish for a moment that you could be like them. Peaceful. Pale. Sickly-looking. With a noose around your own neck.
A pause. This night is just full of realisations for you. They've been hung. Ion and Garcia. They dangle and sway and hover because they are no longer connected to the ground. They are weightless and the noose around their necks are their wings. They are dead, killed once again and strung up. Their bodies a warning. The wolves are still around and they are still killing.
And then the feed cuts.]
The lights seem to be getting dimmer too, as if each life that passes on is another candle snuffed out. The darkness lurks and you wonder vaguely if you're accepting of that darkness. At this point, there is no fight left in you, only the primal instinct. Survival. But even that is starting to dwindle because you've long gone past the state of human and beyond animalistic. You have become hollow. Emotions have no filter, no barrier. You are raw.
And that rawness burns. It claws at your soul and throat and twists your word. You wish there was rationality left in some part of your body but even that has abandoned you. Impulses are wild and untamed, even by the most basic and primal instincts and as you sit on your bed, contemplating this, you come to a sickening realisation.
You've become a monster.
As this feeling sinks into you, the door of your room opens. For a moment, you stay there curled up, not willing to face the fact that you have killed another set of people. Another set of monsters. People just like you. Just as scared, just as tired and just as guilty as you all are. Then, you stand up. You have to pay your respects, say goodbye to those that have died for you. Your partner walks beside you. Feet drag.
Step. Step. Step. Others move just as slowly and there is no gathering around the television. Everyone keeps near their doors and their partners. Almost constant contact is kept. This person is your lifeline. Your last chance to be sane. This person is your last shot at rationality because this person is the truth to you. All you know to be pure and right. Truth. And you can only trust your partner. There is comfort in that, small and insignificant as it is.
The two doors to join the others are doors Number 10 and Number 11. The blood is nearly dry. Obviously the killers and the executioner didn't wait to make the kills. Things are getting exciting for them.
The TV flicks on. White screen, black text.]
The third poll has closed and the wolves have made their choice.
The executioner has made his kill.
Results:
The wolves' prey: Garci and Ion.
The accused: Peter and Yao.
You have successfully killed off an innocent pair.
The wolves still live.
And they will kill again.
[You killed an innocent. Dear sweet Peter and the protective Yao. Poor things really. A child. One was the youngest among you, freshly married, a life full of choices and opportunities in front of him. Snuffed out by your vote. Gone from the world. The other, an older brother, well he didn't have much to live for, his brother already gone by the merciless wolves that still prowl among you. But he would've lived a long and healthy life, would've kept the memory of his brother alive. But now he's dead. Zhi is dead, Yao is dead. You wonder vaguely if you could've saved them.
No. No you couldn't have. Not without sacrificing the life of your partner and yourself. You are more important than the others. You need to live, need to get out of here, need to move on and try desperately to forget this place. And you know you won't but you push that thought aside as the camera flicks on in Peter and Yao's room. Same angle every time. It's almost boring. Almost.
You watch with dull eyes as Gilbert walks in. He surveys his two targets with an aloof gaze and without warning he strikes. Yao is first because Yao is a threat, knows how to fight. Gilbert almost loses but you know that he won't. No skin was withstand a bullet or a knife and soon Yao falls. The tiny Sealander launches himself at Gilbert but the Prussian merely picks him up by the thick blond hair. He laughs, you seem him shaking with it as the flailing boy attempts to strike him.
You blink and in that moment, Peter's corpse is on top of Yao's bleeding out into a large and sick puddle.
The screen changes so fast you barely have to time to collect yourself. And then you blink. What's different here? The two people... They're hovering? Swaying side-to-side. They look peaceful and you wish for a moment that you could be like them. Peaceful. Pale. Sickly-looking. With a noose around your own neck.
A pause. This night is just full of realisations for you. They've been hung. Ion and Garcia. They dangle and sway and hover because they are no longer connected to the ground. They are weightless and the noose around their necks are their wings. They are dead, killed once again and strung up. Their bodies a warning. The wolves are still around and they are still killing.
And then the feed cuts.]