Not Just a Game

Chapter 1

Drip!  Drip!  Drip!

The constant drip from the prison's roof was hypnotizing.  Ice cold water seeping through the unrelenting concrete walls before a single drop finds its way out, flies down, splatters, and creep through more cracks beneath the prison floor. 

Sometimes, Karissa envied those droplets of water for being able to creep out of the prison after entering. 

Drip.  Drip.  Drip. 

Drip.

Drip.

Rip.

Ip.

P.

.

.

P.

Ip.

Rip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.  Drip.  Drip.

The air inside of the prison was far too thick and humid for one to breathe properly.  Never mind the fact that it was heavy with the stench of piss and vomit.

The nearly complete elimination of light didn't make the cell any more bearable.  The only essence of light came from the faraway hallway, where prisoners could see the silhouette of prison guards marching back and forth, a constant reminder of their imprisonment.  Besides that, they sat in total darkness.

Even so, Karissa knew every inch of this god-damned place almost as well as she knew her desire to get out of this hellhole.

The repetitive and slow dripping of water from the dirty rooftop.  The sickening odor of vomit.  The scurrying of rats.  The muffled conversations between enemies.  The occasional clicking of chains.  The low moaning sound of a prisoner after being beaten.  The constant footsteps the guards.

The beige paint chalking off of the stone wall.  The cracks that danced up the prison's walls.  The iron gate that locked them in.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

"Karissa," someone hissed, the sound awfully familiar to a snake's.  

Zoe, then.  One of the other prisoners.  Karissa's had never been Zeo's biggest fan.  Too bloodthirsty.  She found too much enjoyment in the process of killing people-of watching them bleed, of making them suffer, of hearing them scream.  It wasn't that Karissa minded such things, it was just that she preferred a quick death unless her victim was someone like...per say, the emperor.

Not wasting energy on acknowledging the pest, Karissa adjusted her focus from the constant leakage to the disgustingly blank walls, wondering what absurd message could be hidden within them.

You're nothing.  Nobody.

You're worthless.

You are less than human.

You deserve nothing.

She blinked, wondering how insane one must be to imagine messages hidden in blank prison walls.  Then again, that may be partly due to the fact that, for the last 10 fucking months, there was nothing that she could do except stare at that damned wall.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Slowly, absentmindedly, Karissa ran her fingers along the rough stone floor, her fingers pausing at each of the tally marks.  Since there was nothing much to do, she kept track of the number of days she's been in the prison-301, the number of fellow prisoners/friends/future competition she had-14, the number of times she's been dragged to the torture chamber for "disturbance"-49-, and the number of times she regretted the disturbance-1.  And that one time wasn't because of the torture-really, it just made her hate this fucking empire even more and be glad for that "disturbance"-, but because she injured one Ashley, one of the other prisoner.  One that was actually bearable.  One that she almost cared for.  Almost.