And so the game continued. They marched towards the sock overlord, and they grew hungrier. They fought through hardship after hardship and won battle after battle, and they grew hungrier. The words I'm hungry were uttered sixty times throughout their march.

Eventually, the hunger grew too great, and the dream vanished.

John and his siblings were strewn out on the floor. Looks of deep fatigue and starvation were on their faces.

One of the children looked at John.

"John?"

"Yes."

"Are we going to survive this?" The child asked

One of us will.

John bit back his first response.

"We'll...….. We'll be okay." John said

The kid smiled. He was only eight. John knew that his young age meant he was weak. It was almost guaranteed that he would die.

John looked at him with tired eyes.

He couldn't deny it. They weren't going to make it out of this. John knew that for certain. It wasn't something that he could deny. They were all going to die.

Hours passed. They would lay there, and the lights would flicker occasionally. That's it.

They had laid there for so long that everyone's breathing had started to follow a disjointed rhythm. Once one person finished breathing in, another would start sucking in a breath, and once they finished, there would be another. And another And another. They had kept of the chain of that rhythm for what felt like an eternity.

And then that chain broke.

Someone's breathing stopped.

Wait…..

John sat up.

His eyes darted through the sea of people lying on the ground.

A few feet away from John was a small girl. She was very pale, and her body was still. John didn't remember a single one of his siblings being this pale.

Slowly, John stepped over the bodies of his siblings and walked towards her.

He bent down and put his hand on her wrist.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

No pulse.

She was dead.

A smile appeared on John's face.

"Guys. She's dead."

They shot up like zombies revived from the dead.

Not a word was said as they hobbled towards her.

Grasping hands pulled chunk after chunk of flesh from her body. They ripped it off in strips.

Organs, skin, Marrow, Heart, Lungs, Kidneys, eyes, even the brain.

Every bit of her was ripped, pulled, and eaten.

Not even her bones remained.

Again, The Father Appeared.

He played a song with the Trumpet and covered the room in red light.

"28 more." And then he was gone

New strips of red covered the cellar.

After the feeding frenzy, the children shuffled away from each other. They shuffled their way into the room's corners or to the far walls. They stayed as far apart from each other as possible. It was a reasonable thing to do after all. Everyone in this room was a cannibal.

They sat like that. With their eyes darting and their hands shaking with fear for hours, maybe even days. Until pale looks filled their faces, then again, they had to say it.

"I'm hungry."

John's eyes snapped to the person who said it.

It was a boy who was only a few inches shorter than John. He wore a hoodie and pants. There was a look on his face. One of Greed, One of lust, One of Gluttony

He smiled at John.

"Meat."

Without another word, he jumped forward.

No one so much as twitched in assistance of John.

John clenched his fist. Once he got close enough John sent a hard punch into his skull.

The boy fell into the hard-tiled ground from the blow. The ground cracked his skull open.

John had killed him with a single blow.

They began to stalk towards the body. John glared at them as they did so.

He pulled the boy's body to himself. They began to approach faster.

They were tired. So they were slow. They were almost like Zombies. But despite this, their approach continued.

John needed to eat. He needed to eat as fast as he could. The others would get to it if he didn't consume the body in time. And he needed the energy more than them. He needed to be strong because John had to survive this.

Bite after bite—Chomp after Chomp. John shovelled almost half of the boy's body down his throat before they got to him.

They pulled the body from his hands. John knew not to resist. He couldn't beat all of them.

The grasping hands reached. They pulled strip after strip of flesh from the body.

John reached for the body. He was at the back. So he only managed to grab little bits of flesh. But they were still better than nothing. Kidneys ripped, Marrows cracked, Flesh torn, Limbs hacked until there was nothing left.

Again, they slotted themselves back into their distant sections in the wall.

The father appeared in the sky. He held a trumpet in his hands.

Again, he played a song. It was a sad song. Speaking of grief, death, and hopelessness.

A tear fell down John's eye.

"Twenty Seven more."

And then The Father vanished.

John was left lying there with a look of dread on his face.

The black hand of Hopelessness was reaching for John. Its claws were scraping against his soul. Just barely reaching, but reaching nonetheless.

Soon, they would have their hands on John. They would hold every bit of his being. He would be trapped.

One of the children stood up.

"Meat."

With a sick smile on her face, she turned to look at John.

Why is it me? Why is it me that they want to eat? Why is it always me!

John stood up. Tears were in his eyes.

They jumped for John.

"I'm sorry."

She reached for John's throat. But John's arms were longer.

He held her skull.

All it took was a slight rotation of the wrist.

SNAP!

Her neck snapped. Her head bent to the side, and she fell to the ground.

Dead.

John was only twelve. And he had already killed two people.

They were both family.