Deadly Games
The first thing is the cold. Tiles against the cheek. It smells like bleach and rust. I open my eyes and the white light stabs me. Flicker. The roof is made of tin, very high. It's not my piece. I try to get up and my wrists don't respond. There is something metallic pressing on them. Handcuffs. Screwed to the floor. I don't remember how I got here. Last image: my house, 2 AM, ringing the doorbell. Then nothing. Breathe. The air tastes like confinement. Around me, other bodies on the floor begin to move. To complain. I see sneakers, torn jeans, a jacket just like mine. We are... how many? I can't count. A voice comes from the ceiling speakers. She is not human. Too clean. *"Good morning, player 37. You have 60 seconds to stand up before the game begins."* I look at my hands. There is a 37 written in black marker on the back. The ink is still fresh. The handcuffs click *and are released all at once.* * Sixty seconds. *
About Deadly Games
The first thing is the cold. Tiles against the cheek. It smells like bleach and rust. I open my eyes and the white light stabs me. Flicker. The roof is made of tin, very high. It's not my piece. I try to get up and my wrists don't respond. There is something metallic pressing on them. Handcuffs. Screwed to the floor. I don't remember how I go...Read more