𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗥𝗘𝗗• 𝗦. 𝗞𝗔𝗡𝗚

𝑓 𝑖 𝑓 𝑡 ℎ 𝑡 𝑒 𝑒 𝑛

-I wish I could disappear, just for a few moments

[Y u n  R y u n g]

I was torn on whether I should feel scared or terrified right now. Either way I felt nothing. Nothing at all. Not even the slimmest of feelings managed to slip through the pores of my skin. I wished they had, but I was given nothing.

I felt the sweat on my back pool further around my body. The puddle growing progressively. I cross my legs over one another, u down slightly forward towards my tin. "Try to ignore your surroundings, just focus on getting this done." 67 mutters against my neck. Her figure propped up against the fence. Still caught up in her own mind.

"The second game is, Sugar Honeycombs. The shape you have chosen, is the shape you must extract. The time limit is ten minutes. Cleanly extract the shape, and you pass. Let the game begin."

The needle in my hand pinched between my fingers. The honeycomb scratching against the silver in repeated patterns. The evident frown on my lips seeped to my skin. My nose scrunches as the timer loudens in my ears. Each number descending and each time I feel my insides shake. The chain that feels tied to my neck scrapes the bare flesh of my body. I feel my neck tighten and my breaths lost in my lungs.

"Focus, remember." 67 tells me. I snap of the second side of my triangle, nodding at 67 who moves onto her third edge.

Each movement rapid yet slow. Each thought calculated but outcomes blurred. Nothing could be so simple yet so complicating. Yet here I am, scraping honeycomb for my life and the money that could buy one.

The guards scan the place. Watching each plaer for even a scratch or a loose end within their honeycombs.

Then just like that, a trail of blood paints the metal slide in a sculpture of red. The beautiful colours flow in my eyes as it laces it's scarred fingers along the strands of my hair. The mans body slides down, the pigments from his face fading along with the glow in his eyes. The stains on his shirt fresh and new, the smell all to familiar then it should be to my nostrils.

The sweet, sweet smell blesses my cells in a sense of familiarity as the aroma in the room becomes barebale and the tension in my shoulders loosen. "Poor guy." I whispers lowly. My voice vibrates in my throat.

"No, I'm sorry. Please spare my life. Please—" And then again another body fell to the floor. And another pawn in this game spared to the other side. If there is one of course. Every inch covered in blood and the thrill in me nearly bone breaking.

Each thought that barely even skims my mind now filled with the mere second of strangers as their bodies now proclaimed to the dead as their names are now pronounced to their death beds and their initals found on the stone cut graves.

Bodies and bodies confounded the dirt filled ground. Their littered smells lingered throughout the game hall.

"Player 111, pass."

The time was slowly reducting and each and every second that was redused I could feel the sweat on my face spread further and further around the arches of my skin. "Player 67, pass." and that was it, she was done. She hadn't spared a second to turn back. With no regrets she walzted out of the door. Ignoring the gunshots that barely skimmed her cheeks as she passed through the doors.

"Player 66, pass."

:::::::::::::::

I didn't like that the more deceased bodies that I saw the easier it was getting to bare. People are meant to die at some point. Whether that be towards the beginning, middle or end of theirs but it still ends. And in every single way I wasn't prepared.

I see 67 sitting on her bed. Her legs swinging from side to side as she refuses to glance by me. I walk on. Sitting on my own side. Looking across the half empty warehouse. My thoughts condoned and secluded.

I don't go up to 67, nor do I feel a need to. I just let the cold wrap me into a voidless pit, pulling me further and further into the darkness as I feed for attention, for some source that will bring me from my deafening state that seems to feel numb under the brightened lights.

I feel her. Even though she hasn't talked. I can feel her presence. Her looming figure over my own. She just sits down beside me. Her breaths the only sound to my ears. We just sit like this for awhile. Still comprehending the events that had only happened moments ago.

"You're to silent." She replies. Straightening out her creased shirt. "Okay," is all I can say. "I wish I could dissapear, just for a few moments. But I'm worried if I do. I'll like it too much. And never come back." Her lips tucked inbetween her teeth, Biting the dead skin cells of her lips as she looks at me deadpanned. "Me too." She mutters between her sniffles. Swiping her jumper underneath her nose.

"What's your favourite colour?" The sudden reaction wary to even myself as I look at the descending numbers on the screen. "Don't have one." 67 lips skim but never meet, her sound evident but mufffled. Even so I catch onto every word. "Mines scarlet red." She didn't ask any further questions. Just nodding as a fulfilled response.

"Favourite memory?" I ask the taller girl beside me. "When Cheol and I went to the zoo for the first time in a long time." A faded smile rips its way onto my dried skin. The pure happiness subtle within my features. "Mines when my Myung and I went to my old apartment and redecorated the whole place, including the wallpapers. She drew these characters and little people she saw on the street--"

If I wasn't so focused on what the deeper meaning of the paint was or why they picked that shade of colour maybe, just maybe I could've saved a lot more people then they took. "The walls... they determine each game." I don't point. I don't shout. Not even a line of enjoyment satisfies me. But still, it's something. I convince myself not to be hopeful because that one thing a person should never do. Because your mind will make up harmless little dreams until you wish it reality, it will create fantasies until you truely believe it's your own world. Hope is something I can't grasp, and shouldn't be taking ahold of.

"How do you know?" She asks. Her amber eyes tracing the gentle specs of my own. "Because look, the red light green light game. That drawing represents that one. Then the Honeycomb, it represents that game. All we have to do is determine the game before it actually happens." 67 nods in understanding.

Her mouth damp as she puckers her lips. She places her knees further together. Her eyes glued shut as she leans back against the matte shaded bar.

"Don't get too excited,"

A/N:

It's been a rough day ;-; this fucking chapter wouldn't post because Wattpad was doin, god knows what.

I apologise for getting this to you this late :)

Anyways...

I n d i g o