Slander

I

The lights flicker on almost blinding me from the sudden flash. Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes with the back of my palm trying to get an idea of where I am. That's when I saw 11 other people in the dimly lit room with me. Some sitting on the floor with their backs against the wall, others hopelessly searching for a way out as the tug at the bars confining us from the windows.

I noticed that they were all wearing collars around their necks with a padlock that requires a code. I looked down to see that my own neck was trapped in a metal trap.

Trying to pry myself from my restraints to only succeed in my nails beginning to bleed. A man with freshly cut, dirty blond hair walked over to me, grabbing my wrists and taking them in his hands to stop the bleeding.

"Stop that, Kellin," his gentle but deep voice said.

"Andy." He nodded dropping my hands, pulling me in for a hug. I cuddled into him not wanting to let go or know where we are.

"I bet you're wondering why you're here." A voice resonated through the room sending shivers down all of our spines. I pulled away from Andy to listen closer.

"I need the 12 of you to listen carefully because I'm not going to be repeating myself. As you're all aware you have collars around your neck, the only way to break free is by cracking the code." Our attention was drawn to speaker that sat in the corner of the room, hanging from the ceiling.

"There are a number of rounds. Each round will contain a syllable that help you crack the code. Answer the questions wrong and it will result in one of you dying. For every answer you get correct will be one life saved. I have three rules:

Rule number one- You are not allowed to cheat.

Rule number two- You are not allowed to lie.

Rule number three- You need to play on until the very end."

Gasps filled the room as we have that. "What does he mean?" I asked still shocked as I cling onto his shirt.

"I don't know Kellin. I don't know." He replied stroking my hair.

"Two of you will leave here alive, the rest of you may not be so lucky. Play by the rules and you might have chance of survival, but if you choose to ignore them this may result in death for you. This is my game. Welcome to Slander."

I pulled away from Andy, looking up at his collar seeing that I read '2.' I saw a young, skinny, porcelain boy sitting on the concrete ground with his knees pulled up to his head as he quietly sobbed. I walked over a knelt in front of him.

"It's okay." I whispered, causing him to slowly bring his head up to meet my gaze. "Denis?"

He nodded as he stared into my green eyes, his collar contained a number as well '7.' What could these numbers mean?

Denis threw himself into my arms, just wanting to be comforted. "I don't want to die, Kellin."

"Shh, you won't." I replied stroking his soft brown hair.

"How do you know?"

"Just follow the rules and you'll be okay. Trust me." My voice seemed to of calmed him down as he pulled away and stood up.

"Thank you." Denis' glance went from my eyes to my fingers. "What happened to your hands?"

"Accidentally caught it while I was cutting vegetables yesterday." He smiled as I ran my thumb over his knuckles.

"Denis!" A voice shouted sounding rather concerned, yet scared.

"Ben. Oh thank god you're here, I was so scared."

"It's okay Denis, I'm not leaving you. I promise." I watched as Denis and Ben shared a warm embrace.

"Thank you," Ben mouthed.

"Anytime," I mouthed back.

Three men surrounded the barred windows, trying to break it loose. One had brown shoulder length hair, tanned skin and was rather small in height.

Another wore a purple button up flannel shirt with hair that fell just below his ears, his skin covered in tattoos.

The last man towered over them both, his jet black hair perfectly dangled below his shoulders which silhouettes his black leather jacket and gloves.

Suddenly there was a loud crackling sound coming from the corner of the room, which caught everyone's attention.

"I need numbers 10, 6, 1 and 12 to step forward."

We all looked at eachother just hoping that they weren't our numbers. Three men stepped forward. "Who's 12?" Asked Ben from the other end of the room. The man in the purple flannel (whose name I found out to be Oliver) looked at me and muttered.

"You."

I stepped in line with the three others and silently waited.

"State your name and number. Once you've done that take a step back." Came the voice from the speaker.

"Ronnie Radke, number 6." The blonde man said taking a step to be in line with the rest of us.

"Ricky Olson, number 1."

"Gerard Way, number 10." He stepped backwards.

It was my turn. Taking a hard swallow I stepped forwards glancing directly at the speaker, which I knew had a hidden camera in it.

"Kellin Quinn, number 12." I spoke before joining the other three. Silence filled the room as we awaited the next order.

"This is the first round. I have selected four of you at random, three of you are going to join the other remaining nine and move into the next round. One of you are going to die right here, right now. I give you four standing in the line a choice of who it will be. If you don't decide in 30 seconds I will choose at random. Your time starts now."

I stared at the others not knowing what to do. We could hear eachothers heart beats. "You have 10 seconds remaining."

"5."

"4."

"3."

"2."

"1. Since you have failed to choice I will take matters into my own hands." A door swung open revealing a note on the bricked up wall.

"Number 6 wall threw the door and wait for further instruction." Ronnie obeyed and hesitantly walked forward standing between the metal door and brick wall.

"Read the note out loud."

He grabbed the note, unfolding it.
It read: 'Take your pick.'

"What does that mean?" He screamed.

"There's a table in front of you containing a handgun and a needle, you will choose how you're going to die. But let me make it clear that whatever you pick, you will die by your own hand. Any questions."

"What does the needle contain?"

"It is filled with Chlorine, injecting the whole substance will give you difficulties breathing, chest pain, eye irritation, increased heartbeat and will inevitably result in a slow and painful death. Your choice."

Ronnie picked up the shotgun holding it in his hands as he tried to process what was happening. "I choose this."

"Do it." Came the speaker. Ronnie glanced over at us saying, "I'm sorry," as the door slammed shut.

Bang.

We sat there in silence cuddling into eachother as we think of what just happened.