➹ LEFT TO LOSE ➷ chishiya s.

➸ CHAPTER ONE

NOW PLAYING ...
Leaving Tonight • The Neighbourhood

! AUTHORS NOTE !
I'm not a professional on victims of amnesia or trauma, so I apologize if anything is inaccurate or unrealistic! I researched about it for a while before I started writing, but the internet can only tell me so much. Thank you for understanding, I hope you enjoy. : )

—
꧁♚————————{♛}————————♚꧂
—

➸ "Teio Prison," You read the sign nailed to the entrance of a large facility. "Sounds like I'm gonna be on vacation for a while."

You walked down the long hallway, a light shining down on a circular room awaited your arrival. The quiet atmosphere felt stiff, as the sound of your sneakers was the only thing breaking through, one sneaker dragging slowly on the floor due to an injury you recently got. It had been merely 2 days since the King of Spades arrived in the city, though time doesn't fly by as quick as it used to since you now have to keep both eyes open at night.

Once you stepped foot into the new room, a white table with numerous collars stood at your feet, a paper standing behind them. You squint your eyes and read aloud, "Put on a collar and go upstairs to the Central Guardroom." You obliged to the instructions, no matter how intimidating the device looked, you know there's no way around it. With that being said, you clasped the ring around your neck, it wasn't too tight that it hurt but tight enough to make you squirm uncomfortably.

Ringing notes played from the device, like a lottery game at an arcade, then stopped after it reached a certain number. Something must've changed on the collar, as you remember seeing a circular screen poking out of it before putting the collar on. Nonetheless, you shuffled to the stairs leading to the game lobby.

Once you reached the top, not many people were in your line of sight. Though, there were lots of collars left on the table downstairs, so there will be a big group in no time. Although it was inevitable, you didn't recognize anyone in the room. Though, that's also considered a good thing, as lots of the people will wound up dead in this game.

It's the Jack of Hearts, meaning it focuses on the actual group and pulls their heart strings, toying with their emotions and morality. You wouldn't say Hearts Cards are your easiest type of games, but you've never had a strong enough emotional connection to anyone for their death to be heart-wrenching.

People die, sometimes they shouldn't, sometimes they should, but they do.

You limp over to one of the archways leading down a dark hallway, but don't pay much attention to what it leads to. Your back slides down the wall and you plop down on the floor, clenching your teeth as you unravel the bottom of your pants. You take a peak at your bruised ankle, bits of dried up blood sprinkled on top of the yellow darkening into a purple hue. Even though the only memory of your life before the Borderlands was you in a hospital, you weren't an expert at these types of things. It could be broken, sprained, swollen, or simply a few cuts and bruises. On top of that, your lack of connection with other people doesn't allow you to lean on them for a second opinion.

So, what you say is final. "It'll heal by itself eventually." Comforting enough.

You pull out a small leather journal from your back pocket, a pen hooked onto one of the pages. Your thumb skips past the beginning pieces of paper, flying past thousands of words until you pinch down on a blank page. You get a hold of your pen, using your teeth to yank the black cap of it. Your fingers pressed down on the scattered bumps on the pen, all from the times you bit down on it as a nervous habit.