The Red Trials- Sequel to Lock Down

(2) The Color of Blood

Red. Red was everywhere. It was the only thing I saw, and felt. Zenaphoria was steadily climbing, using her rope as a grip, then grabbing the pillar and moving her rope up a bit, then repeating the same thing over and over again. I followed her example, and Zero moved to grasp his rope underneath me. My socks slipped down the smooth stone pillar, so I quickly slid them off, making it easier for my feet to grip the surprisingly cold stone. The red blood bubbled and spewed below up, getting alarmingly close to Zero, who was frantically climbing about a foot behind me. I sped up, my rope chaffing my hands. They burned as my skin was ripped and got fleshy pink. I only gritted my teeth, and focused on the beating of my own blood. Zero cried out in pain, and I felt the burning on my right foot. We had been splashed yet again by the jets of blood. My pace was considerably slower then, my foot in terrible pain and my eyesight muddled by tears I couldn't wipe away. My hands we gripping the rope in a death grip. My legs felt heavy and weak, and I almost felt like I may as well give up and fall to the pit of blood, to live a better life in the spot where spirits go. Then I felt a hand grasp my arm and wrench me up. For her stature and height, Zenaphoria was surprisingly strong. She hauled me up without a flinch, to the thankfully flat surface of the top. The announcer was standing a foot away, and the awkwardness and tension was thick. He looked particularly disgruntled that we were sharing his small space on top of the pillar, or maybe that we were alive and not badly injured. We almost had to stand shoulder to shoulder once Zero squeezed on the top, and I felt myself being rather close to the announcer and Zero. Now that I was a few inches away, I saw that the announcer was thin and lean, but muscular looking. His graying hair was in a supposedly handsome position on the top of his head, giving him the appearance that he wanted to stay young. Zero bit his lip in the corner of my vision, and I could see blood trickling down his forehead. He looked... older... with his hard stare focused intently on the announcer, ignoring the blood, standing straight and tall...

Focus. The announcer started to speak, straightening his hair, flashing his too white smile.

"It looks like we have some member's here!" The audience cheered, but I could hear a slight chorus of booing. What was the matter with these people? Or were they even people? How could they do this, watching innocents die as though it was a sport. I wanted to shrink inside my clothes when my face started turning red from the attention I was receiving. That reminded me that red was the color of blood. The color of blood, death. I closed my eyes for a moment, my mind blocking out the screaming and hollering from the crowd now eye level with us. I tried to remember that small, lonely girl that would never talk. How happy she'd been to actually have one friend in eighth grade.

But that only brought me to the lock down. How that friend of her's was dead. The nice girl in science was dead. Mrs. Katerine was dead.

Would they always lurk in a shadowy corner of my thoughts? Would they be there, reminding me of why I should've died that day. The day that was yesterday.

Fresh blood lurked in my vision as I followed the announcer with Zero and Zenaphoria. We went up several flights of stairs, through endless halls, to a room he unlocked with a key. Inside was a small kitchen, a bunk bed on one side of the door, a single bed on the other. It was separated by a white curtain down the middle. One door led presumably to the bathroom. Everything was slightly dusty, but mostly clean.

I sunk onto the top bunk. There I drifted into what I thought would be a blissful sleep.

I had no idea what nightmares were awaiting me.