The scent of early morning dew hung in the air pleasantly, like just waking up after sleeping under the stars out in the cool country air. Because his class was supposed to be on a pleasant camping trip, B02 might have been smiling as he awoke from his slumber and the smell of dew invaded his nostrils; however, this was not the case. Instead of a bright smile gracing his face, there was a very confused frown crossing the rosy cheeks. The boy's long blonde hair had petals littered in it, a colorful, messy of bedhead, and he was alone in an open field of various flora. There was a long moment that the boy spent wracking the crevices of his brain for some explanation, but he was still somewhat dizzy from sleep. There had to be some semblance of an answer somewhere in the recesses of his mind, though.
'What the hell is going on? Where am I,' the boy questioned himself, easing himself up into a seated position and looking around frantically, 'Wait. More importantly, who am I?' The sun was rising on the horizon, illuminating the setting of the field in all its aromatic splendor. He was starting to panic. He couldn't think of anything except for what was going on right at that moment. He knew something terrible must have happened. There was a constant chill traveling down his spine, a subconscious attempt at reminding him what had taken place within the last few hours. There was a time when the boy might have thought he was dreaming; but this was no dream. Gun shots rang out in the distance, and the blonde swore he heard screams follow. Bits and pieces of his memories came to him oh-so suddenly as his mind became less fuzzy and more concentrated. His blood was pumping as flashes came and went, leading to a very terrible conclusion.
The boy was coming out to his father when he was only twelve years old. His mother had passed away at birth. His father was tall and brunette, with deep chocolate eyes. His father was a successful doctor. His father was a busy, practical man. His dad, towering over him, just smiled at the child and responded, "I've always known, son, and I've loved you anyway." A father and a son's love, still strong without a mother.
There he was with cheerleaders. He was a few years older, and he was dancing, yelling, and having a grand old time at the first football game of the season. This was an important day in his growing up. It was his first time ever cheering, when he was just a freshman in high school. He was smiling brightly, so happy and filled with life. There was determination in his eyes.
He was at the bonfire before his senior year, with cheerleaders, jocks, and everyone else in the class being themselves. It wasn't his cup of tea, but that was ok. This was to be their last year. There was commotion as usual, and then there was Eduardo with his hurtful words trying to push the embarrassed blonde off of him.
Then there was Sean, leaning over him in the gym after a shower. He was smiling happily, and the boy was smiling back just as content. There was a fairytale romance brewing there for just a moment as they leaned in to kiss again.
They were on the bus, ready for their senior trip. He was sitting next to Sean, holding his hand lightly. He was happy, ready for the trip of a lifetime. It was ok to think about the other boy now. They were supposed to be together now; as boyfriends. He didn't have to worry about anything else. They had talked about maybe going to the same college. Everything was going to be alright for the two blondes. They shared a gentle kiss before the two of them heards screaming and one hell of a commotion broke out on the bus.
That was when it hit him square in the face. His eyes were wide with both terror and What was what was going on was worse than anything he could have imagined. He was in the middle of a game; one big hell of a mindfucking game. Survival of the Fittest. That was what they called it on the news. It was a mimic of a program from another country, and it had caused the United States to crumble with mental fatigue and despair. Broadcast to the entire country and probably other places too, this game was some sort of test of ability, an afterschool lesson of life and death. In essence, the boy had been thrown onto an uncharted island and was going to have to fight off his classmates until only one of them survived. It was all just so fucked up. A tear slid down his face as he thought about his friends fighting one another, essentially killing people that they had known for years and years. He thought about his father again and how he must be hurting to know what was happening to his son. The blonde thought of his boyfriend Sean. Would he have to watch him die? Would he die before that happened?
Knowing enough about the game to realize he was in danger, the boy knew he had to find shelter. Finally taking note of his belongings littering crushed flowers near where he was kneeling, the cheerleader grabbed the small suitcase he had brought for the class trip and beside that, a black bag that he knew carried a makeshift weapon and some food. He didn't care about the weapon. He wasn't planning on playing the game anyway; but if he wanted to survive to see the rest of the day, he'd better get his ass out of the open. Standing, he stopped for a moment to brush his pastel blue polo shirt and shorts off. Flipping his hair, he realized that he must look like a wreck. As high maintenance as he was, desperate times called for desperate measures. His cute brown boots crushed flower after flower as he began running suddenly, headed for some shelter. He could answer his mental questions from earlier now.
His name was Anderson Walker, otherwise known as B02, and he was most definitely in hell.
((Continued in In God's House))
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