Cliché

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"The Circle Of Fate"

Karl Jacobs

Tw: Mentions of anxiety and medicine

Notes: This was originally a story I had written, but I deleted it due to bad writing and quality. I'm posting this to suffice your needs for updates right now. Bare with me here

Song: "Honey Pie" By JAWNY

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(Y/n) anxiously rapped her fingers against her car's stering wheel. The twenty three year old girl felt a bundle of tight nerves coiled intensely in her chest at what was awaiting her.

For some reason, the struggling, just-out-of-college student had decided to partake in a challenge that had been sent to her via email only four days ago. It was the one and only Mr.Beast team asking her to be a part of one random video that they had needed almost over 100 people for, and according to the person sending the email, she had been chosen because she was their 68,000,001 subscriber.

Honestly, when she had first gotten the letter, (Y/n) was convinced that it had been a prank. Especially after seeing that she could win half a million dollars. But after some extensive research that had been made with shaky hands, (Y/n) had discovered that it was in fact Mr.Beast's authentic email.

(Y/n) had ended up pacing in her empty apartment for a couple of hours before doing some calming exercises that her therapist had recommended. The girl made up her mind eventually after getting another email that included her rent payment for the month. Living in Nashville wasn't exactly cheap, so all of that money would definitely help her pay off debt while being able to eat at the same time.

So here she was right now, pulling tentatively into a half full parking lot after a short, sweet seven hour and forty five minute drive to the middle of North Carolina. But she had been in a car for longer, so (Y/n) was unbothered by her sore legs and numb buttcheeks. The young woman was more focused on her nerves that were currently making her head spin.

(Y/n) stretched, giving anyone who wanted too, a good amount of time to take in her figure. She wasn't one of those petite girls you read about in stories. (Y/n) fit the stereotype of an average American girl that made a living by working at Barnes and Nobles. Standing at a healthy height of 5'8 with (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes, she didn't really stand out from the crowd much. That was, unless you counted her crippling anxiety and low self esteem. (Y/n) was essentially like the internet; normal at first, then extremely depressing and soft/silly at the same time.

"Okay (Y/n). You get in there, find the supposed circle, and sit until you can't take it anymore. Simple. Just don't mess this up." She mumbled while pulling her baggy grey flannel closer to her tense frame. Anybody could tell that she was scared. Her hands were constantly doing something to try and distract her mind from the looming building that awaited her less than a couple meters away.

(Y/n) locked her car- nearly dropping her keys in the process -and began to speed walk to the arena looking area. Why couldn't Mr.Beast have rented a less intimidating looking area for her to rot away in a circle for 500,000 dollars? Like a flower field, or maybe a Walmart for those with allergies. Preferably the ice cream aisle. Yeah, a Walmart would be nice...

After getting inside, she noticed that the air had become warmer from the slightly colder weather outside. The second thing (Y/n) observed was a lie of average looking folks like herself standing in a shortish line, all waiting to be called up next by a few people with clipboards. When another person would step up, they were handed a name tag, sharpie, and one of four colored shirts.