The first chapter is a little bit dark, but the second one should be brighter. Thanks for reading!
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The beat of ten footsteps touching the ground in unison, each as heavy as bull’s, is the only sound audible in the tunnel. The passageway is lit dimly by lightbulbs, embedded into the ceiling only a meter above our heads.
I look to the left and right. The faces of the others are emotionless. Emotionless like a doll. The trace of light making its way down from above casts an ominous shadow upon each of their pale faces. Their eyes reflect no light, as if an abyss had opened up within their pupils and swallowed up the brightness.
I imagine my own face must look the same. Expressionless, emotionless, deathlike. I look at my hand. Images of the past float into my mind. The color of my hand, stored away in the shadows of my body, appears to be almost blood red. The image flickers, then disappears.
I slow down for a moment in shock, and the boy walking from behind me crashes into me. With a cry, he falls down upon the ground. His empty eyes suddenly flare up, and he tries to crawl back up. However, I keep on walking. The eight others do the same, leaving behind the boy who had fallen down.
Suddenly, an alarm sounded and a series of bangs ring out from behind. I turn my head to look behind me, and my pupils start to contract. A bloody mess lies sprawled out upon the floor. His...no, its back has multiple holes punched through it, and the blood seeping from its wounds pours onto the ground, forming a small puddle. Its head is burst open, making it so that you can no longer recognize it as something human.
I know what I am. A killer. I am the one who caused the death of that boy. However, that thought merely lasts for a minute before fading away. These hands have already killed tens of people. How does adding one more body count to these blood-stained hands of mine matter?
As long as our speed slows down to less than two miles an hour, we are eliminated, regardless of the cause.
A few hours ago, we entered this tunnel with fifteen people. It was easy at first, as everyone laughed and chatted. However, the first person died within an hour, his eyes showing a sense of horror as the gunshots rang out. He was unable to move, his leg cut from a jagged rock sticking out from the ground. The second was pushed by another, and the perpetrator was also killed as the victim clung onto his clothes. The death count stacked up one by one. Each death took a toll on the mental states of the others, and the accidents got more frequent as the time went by. Now, there are eight people left, including me.
The blood from the boy continuously pours out onto the ground, and the puddle reaches the heels of the back of the group, staining their shoes with blood. With a cry, a short girl of about 130 cm collapses on the ground. It seems like the previous scene was too much for her. Nobody stops to wait for her. A moment later, we hear another alarm ring, and the horrifying gunshots resound in our ears once more. Nobody but me looks back this time. They all know the results.
This is the first time that someone had touched the blood of one of the fallen. The previous incidents ended without blood. Additionally, the only blood that they ever touched before was the blood of enemies of the State. Not one of our own.
Death can be as light as a feather, yet can also be heavier than Mt. Everest. It depends on how you interpret it. My eyes narrowed as I stared at the two corpses behind me. I looked back because I am the one. The one who killed them. A few figures quickly clean up the remains of the two who were walking alongside us not long ago. However, they look no different in life and death. I wonder if I look the same?
I look once again to the people walking beside me. Their faces are pallid, drained without the slightest touch of blood. Their lips are as pale as their face, their eyes filled with dread and death. I wonder if I appear to be the same?
Their movements are slow and sluggish, their footsteps no longer as light as when we first entered the passageway. They breathed heavily, gasping for breath. I wonder if I act the same?
Their hearts filled with nothing but slaughter, their minds filled with nothing but killing. I wonder if I am the same?
I look down at my nameplate.
Name: Yun Wujian
Gender: Female
Age: 10
Years Remaining: 999,990
As I stare at the plate, darkness covers us. The lights are off, with no source of light to guide us along the path.
Darkness. My refuge. Since the time I killed the man, regardless of whether he was an enemy to the State or not, I have always lived in the dark. The times where I am shrouded by darkness, darkness so dark that I cannot see my five fingers in front of me, is when I feel the safest. I can no longer see the blood-stained hands which had claimed the lives of many others. I feel like the shackles which have kept me bound to the earth have been broken.
However, when the time comes that the light returns, the shackles once again wrap themselves around my ankles and wrists. I try to struggle against them, but they are terrifying, digging deeper into my flesh as I try to escape.
The passageway lights are still off. I breathe a sigh of relief as I feel my shackles crack and shatter. They fall to the ground with a *clang* that only I can hear. The illusionary chains wrapped around my chest begin to loosen, and I open my eyes.
I can see nothing. Absolutely wonderful. I continue walking forward as those behind me trip and stumble. As Sinners, we are given the right to keep the lights to our cells on. However, I always keep them off. The world of darkness is so much more comfortable for me than it is for them. They are used to the world of light, but it seems that they have also stumbled into a world of darkness in their hearts.
However, in a world of darkness, my heart is free. Their hearts are trapped, whether in the world of light or in the world of darkness.
I spun around, a smile on my face, although I can not see it. Neither can anybody else. I can hear the *thump* *thump* of heavy footsteps trailing behind me. Approximately seven meters, no, six point eight meters behind me, the sound of the soles of their shoes making contact with the rough ground sounds crisp and clear. Living in the darkness made me accustomed to it, and I can approximately tell where everything is by the sound. Seven footsteps, echoing in unison. Then six, as one stumbled and a cry as well as gunshot sounds make their way to my ears.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Suddenly, with a ka-chak sound, the lights flashes back on. I feel my lungs tighten, as if constricted by something. My ankles and wrists feel two times heavier, and I look at my hands again. The horrifying red greet my eyes. I wince in pain. It once again flickers, then disappears.
Of the seven who were there when the lights closed, only six are still walking with emotionless expressions toward me. Slowly, heavily.
I keep my pace at a slow walk to allow them to catch up. The suffocating feeling that I had before comes back, hitting me like an ocean wave.
I close my eyes, but it’s not the same. Not the same was the warm refuge of the darkness.
As we walk on, we come across a pool of blood. It is probably something that used to be a person in the group of ten in front of us. We are kept at a distance from each other, enough so that one group isn’t able to see the one in front of them.
However, the grisly remains of the scene are still there. There is no body, just a pool of blood. We all move to the side, hugging the walls to avoid stepping on the gruesome scene.
Ahead of us is a shining light, marking the end of the tunnel. I peer at the brightness, but all I feel is sorrow.
It is a cruel light. One which signifies more slaughter and death. I do not want to continue. But I must. In order to live.
We stumble across the entrance. The bright lights overhead contrasted with the dim lights of the tunnel causes our eyes to go blind for merely a moment. A pungent odor wafts from before us, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust. It truly is a cruel light. As our eyes adjust to the brightness, we can make out a scene of carnage.
In front of us is a collosseum. Splatters of blood covered the floor and the walls. Nobody is there, but I can feel the stares of people looking at us. Laughing at us. Eating fine meats and drinking fine wines as we approach death.
On the other side was a metal door, studded with bolts. A single signpost is planted in the ground. Splatters of blood cover its words, but we can still make out the letters.
The law of speeds has been removed.
Of the seven of you, only four will go on.
Choose wisely.
Stabbed into the paper is a knife, with a size of ten centimeters. Its edges were tainted by blood, probably the blood of those before us.
Without any warning, one of the boys of our group springs out. His hand grabs the handle of the knife and pulls it from the signpost.
“W-What are you doing, Charles?” One of the girls in the group ask, waking up from her shock.
The boy, Charles’ eyes give off a frenzied light. He laughs coldly. “Did none of you read the signpost? It says that only four may leave.”
“Then, you-you....” One of the others stutters.
“Then three of us just need to die here.” Charles laughs maniacally, then stabs the knife into the chest of the boy in front of him.
I can see the curses that the boy is sending with his eyes, condemning Charles to a lifetime of suffering. Charles ignores him and pulls the knife out of his body, swiping the blade left and right.
Charles smirks. “One down, two to go. Who’s next?”
The third girl in our group shrieks, then falls on her knees as she tries to crawl away from the crazed killer.
Charles chases after her, then ruthlessly plunges the knife into her back. She collapses and squirms for a moment, then stays silent.
I didn’t know that a ten year old child can do something like this. I’ve done my fair share of stabbing, but none with such bloodthirst and frenzy. Looking at it this way though, who wouldn’t go crazy after being locked up in a cell all day?
The crazed light in Charles’ eyes shines even brighter with a bloodthirsty aura. Suddenly, the third boy in our group dashed forward.
“Ahahaha!” Charles laughs arrogantly, then extracts the knife and brandishes it in front of himself. “So you want to be the third? Great!”
The boy’s eyes show no trace of panic, and he continues in a straight path.
Charles swung the knife. Although it still needs some polishing, it cannot be considered clumsy.
The second girl covered her eyes.
*Thud*
Charles is lying on the ground, the other boy sitting on top of him.
“DAMN YOU!” Charles cries out in anger. “I’M GONNA TO KILL YOU! I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” His left hand was pressed against his back, his right hand against the ground, restrained by the other boy’s hand.
“Wh-what happened?” The girl who covered her eyes asks.
I look at her, then shake my head. If you want to know, then don’t cover your eyes in the first place!
In the moment that Charles swung his blade, the boy ducked under the trajectory and kicked Charles’ feet from under him. He then proceeded to restrict the movement of Charles’ two arms.
His skills are a notch above Charles, maybe due to the fact that Charles is in a crazed state.
Charles continues to kick and scream bloody murder. He shouts until the second boy comes over, then sends a kick at Charles’ neck. With a *snap* sound, Charles’ body goes limp.
An alarm goes off, and the bolted metal doors in front of us creak and start to open. I look at the other girl in our group, unable to move because of the horrific scene. I sigh and give her my shoulders as support. The boys glare at one another, then continue walking towards the open door. I follow them.
As we walk through the doors, applause sound from 180 degrees around us. It is filled with irony. I ignore the hypocritical smiles as I look ahead, toward the distant and uncertain future.