Who am I?
I am me.
I am the me that I know, but the me that you know could be completely different from the me that I know... the me that is me.
The me that you know is only the me that you see. Perception is everything, and your perception of me... it isn't me. You know what I want you to know, nothing more, nothing less. I am the puppeteer and you, the puppet, fed the truths and the lies that I want you to know, never knowing the true truths, only the ones wrapped in deceit.
To kill. To take the life of another. In Survival of the Fittest, to sacrifice the lives of others in order to save oneself. Simple Darwinism by definition. But nothing is ever simple. Simplicity itself is an entity wrapped in lies and shrouded in darkness. Simplicity doesn't exist. The deeper you delve, the more you uncover, and the more depth everything has to it.
It's all in your perception.
To live. To play. To kill. To die. This is all that my existance has boiled down to. Those are my choices. To play... to kill. To die. Whether we play or not, we still die.
Death is all that is left.
Except for one. One glimmer of hope. One distant star. Survival. Only one will survive, the rest will die.
Cold blue eyes shot open, scanning the orange-colored morning sky.
My name is Khrysta Lawrence. Somewhere between three and twenty-four hours ago, I boarded a bus on what was supposed to be the Southridge senior class of 2007's graduation trip... but, it wasn't meant to be. Much like the incident one year ago, our would-be good times weren't on the agenda of others, and we were whisked away, fitted with collars, and forced to be nothing more than rats in a maze to the orchestrators of what some people would call a 'game'.
It's a game, alright... a game that toys with people's lives. After all, what's a life when it isn't your own? When it's turned around on you, though, that life becomes your most treasured and precious belonging... and that is why we find ourselves here, trying to convince ourselves that our only choice is to kill everyone and everything to become the One. The winner. What many fail to realize is... there can only be one. One person's chance of survival? Almost zero.
The blonde-headed girl lying on the cool, damp grass slowly forced herself up from the ground and lightly rubbed the back of her head. She had a mindnumbing headache, perhaps an effect from the gas that had been forced on them, but she tried her best to fight it away. Her vision, formerly distorted, returned to normal, and after a moment, she could finally get her bearings.
Trees. Grass. Water. ... Water? Sure enough, only a few feet away from Khrysta lie a glistening lagoon. If she had landed ten feet to the left, she'd have drowned before she ever awoke from the gas. This fact occurred to the blonde girl, but she simply let out a light sigh.
And so it begins. My game. My story. My chance for survival.
A few feet away from her lay the standard-issued forest green daypack, "G17" stencilled in white for all to see. She was no longer Khrysta Lawrence. She was now Female Student no. 17. A statistic. A subject. The thought made her sick to her stomach. She pulled the pack to her and unzipped it, almost immediately locating the "weapon" they had given her, though the object definitely didn't resemble a weapon much.
It was called a jo and it was used in martial arts. Khrysta knew that much. Beyond that, she knew nothing, only that she was supposed to use it to preserve her own life. With something that was the equivalent of a durable stick, it would be quite hard to do. But, not impossible.
Khrysta held the stick loosely in her hand, swinging it around in circles, and moved over to the tranquil waters of the lagoon. Ahead of her was a tall cliff that she couldn't see over, and beyond that, nothing except trees. It was peaceful here. Eerily so.
Overhead, a few birds cried out. Khrysta's attention turned toward the birds as they flew overhead. The tranquility of the lagoon belied the chaos that was ensuing elsewhere on the island. Khrysta knew this much, but somehow, managed to keep calm. It took a lot to startle Khrysta into a panic, and although she probably should have been panicking now, the reality of the game had yet to completely kick in.
She had already decided what she would do. She wouldn't play, not exactly. The problem with playing the game was that it was an indiscriminatory obligation. If you played, you were supposed to kill. The line between friend and foe faded into grey before it swallowed the two completely and they became one.
If you 'played', you had no friends, no allies, nothing to fall back on. Still, Khrysta wouldn't lie around and die. She was an athlete to the core -- a very talented dancer, one of the best on the Swim Team -- she wouldn't go down easily in a fight. And fight... was exactly what she would do.
If they attacked her, she would defend herself. If she had to kill them, she would do it. She nodded her head in solemn confirmation of that choice. She didn't have to play, but she didn't have to die, either. Khrysta resumed her seated position, placing her back against the water's edge so she could watch the rest of her surroundings.
Better to enjoy the peace while it lasts...
((Continued from The Cursed and the Damned))
It was so annoying. She had decided that about 4 miles ago. Her bandaged elbow was throbbing, and the bandage around the cut on her head was already soked with blood. Melina hated this. How in the hell did she go from being on top, having a powerful gun, and ready to win it all, to a mess of a girl in a matter of minutes? One reason. Paul-friggin-Smith. The god-aweful pain in her head made it hard for her to concentrate on anything at all, especially not that horrible map she tossed a ways back. It was too confusing.
Uggh! Why is this happening?! She yelled to the empy surroundings. If only trees could talk.
'Damn... now I'm talking to myself... Maybe I should've saved Heather. At least I'd have someone to talk to.' She sighed mentally and continued on her way.
She eventually came upon a clearing with a small lake in it. She figured this was the Lagoon she had seen on the map. Not too shabby. She looked around and spotted a girl sitting not far from where she was standing. Luckily she hadn't made noise yet, and the girl's back was facing her. Melina smiled.
Her pack dropped to the ground, no doubt alerting the girl to her presence. She smiled at the girl, and held up the saw with her bad arm, white the legnth of the chain rolled out from it's previous position around her wrist.
Hey babe. What's up? It's gonna be a fun ending for senior year, that's for sure. She grinned like the cat that ate the canary and sprinted for the other girl. She couldn't quite remember her name, but soon it wouldn't matter anyway. Melina swung the chain at the girl, hoping to crack her in the face with the iron.