Mad man

An introvert, someone who thinks over his words at least five times before letting them slip past his lips. Solely out of insecurity, he’d rather keep his lips pressed together. With the thought of trying to change this flaw, he’s moved from a place that had been his home ever since born, to a completely different country, having to get used to the new culture and being forced to learn a new language. He’s been having a hard time, as even leaving the house was a struggle to him, thus he’s been craving for some new contact. In search for new people, to help him break the little bubble he’s been living in to hide himself from the feared outside world. 

Fresh Cream

Spitting out my rap however it flows, trying to be modest but it just comes out. Ain’t go no interest for fame, simply fixed on doing what I want. Prefer to stay hidden, there were my secrets are safe and where I have only limited popularity. Seen some dirty and messed up things, planning on fixing it some day, but not now. Tell me about your pointless assumptions, tell me about your so called good advice, I’ll give you a reason to rethink your own life in return. I’m good, with only acquaintances, don’t need your offers, don’t need your money, show me sincerity and we’re good, perhaps. 

She could understand the sound of his voice, but the words that streamed out from his chapped lips felt as foreign as the words he’d written on the board. The chalk now smudged by the occasional brush of the back of his sweater or the crook of his elbow as he would pace back and forth. The summary of what she could catch; what wasn’t distorted by the static noise crackling in her ears; they’d all been selected. The class trip had been a set up, and instead they’d been falsely led to this classroom, the inside of this building, situated on this abandoned island for this precise purpose. Program and military appeared repeatedly in his speech; but it was the jovial undertone of the words fight and kill, punctuated by to the death that squeezed her chest. If she could’ve torn her eyes away from the front, she would see the whites of her knuckles that clenched around her skirt, the material pulled tight between her sweaty digits.

Still in a state of disbelief, she struggled to tune out the exclamations of the others and fought to even her breathing that had gradually picked up once more. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen; everything felt like a film, and she fought the temptation to peer around and look for the director, the signs of a hidden camera— anything that would declare this was fake. That they were safe. That none of this was real. Mind in a high speed whir, the heightened questions of her classmates were faint when they hit her ears, but the sudden blast of a gunshot—how could she be sure she’d never heard one before only on TV action movies in theatres she didn’t know she’d see again—rung out loud and pulled her out completely from her thoughts and pushed her knees to the ground. Masahiro. That was what she saw. A name tag on a desk. Not the blood that splattered across nearby classmates’ faces and chests. Hair he’d dyed brown last year. Not the quaking of her hands and the pool of blood that had begun to run between their feet and over the tiles of the floor and neared the edges of her knees. 

If she shut her eyes hard enough and covered her ears long enough, maybe it’d all go away. But she couldn’t brush away the now limp body of her classmate, that had previously been full of just as much life only a few feet away from her, as a prank anymore. How could it be a candid camera?

The thoughts clashed in her head, even as she was pulled up by hands of a owner she couldn’t see and pushed forward, squished against other shaking bodies. Living bodies. But shaking just like hers, some perhaps even harder. She wasn’t gathered, she stared at the tops of heads and heard screams; but the images were blurry, her feelings caught up in a daze— though it was almost funny how a sort of calm settled among them as their names were called out, one by one. 

Classmates, friends were called from the crowd and tossed military-stated duffles before they were gestured outside of the room and out to who only knew where. Riisa would come to know soon enough, this wasn’t lost on her, but as their numbers dwindled and straight spines, hunched backs, covered stomachs disappeared around the corner, she could do nothing to stop the fear that lined her every nerve. The second her own name was called, she was surprised at the ease in which she found herself walking towards the front and catching the camouflage duffle in her thin arms. The other duffle blue and lighter; both of their contents unknown but she wound the heavier duffle around her shoulders and managed a soft “Thanks”. Force of habit, she thought. It took feigned restraint to not look back at the remaining faces, ignore the drying blood on the floor. People she would have to kill, classmates she knew she couldn’t could any of them no the two new students she’d never seen before today they could she was certain of it.

She only knew that she raced out of the classroom, stumbling through a dark hallway lined by military forces and past big school doors outside into the cold air.

Sounds came from the room, everyone had been taking and speaking up, and as soon as he heard a gunshot, every bit of hope there was for this being a sick joke had now left. His eyes wandered over to the now limp body along with a pool of blood surrounding him, one of his classmates, someone he used to see and talk to everyday, though they weren't friends he didn't hate this person, and though sometimes he could get pissed at this person, he would never actually wish for this person to die. It then really hit him, this was all real and this way probably going to happen to him too, he would die too, just like in the articles, he'd be killed by one of his classmates, or maybe the metal collar around his neck-- either way, he would die. 

He could hear names along with their student numbers faintly being called in the background, though he didn't pay much attention to it as he was completely lost in thought, purely in hope it would change the reality that was happening outside of his daydream, but it wouldn't, he knew that. Familiar names passed and as he knew his name would fall of the male's lips soon, he started slowly coming back to reality, causing his eyes to widen and his throat to become dry. As more names passed and he watched the people get their backpack, he knew it would be his turn soon and purely because of the fear, his body started shaking a little. 

'Student number 21, Kim Yukwon.' echoed in the room, it was completely silent, only soft gasps left some people's lips. He swallowed some saliva, his eyes wandering over to his old teacher before he stifted his gaze towards the car filled with bags. On shaky legs, he managed to get up, stumbling over towards the car only to get a bag thrown over and catching it with some difficulty. With his arms hardly able to support the bag, he left the room quickly, soon picking up his pace and running past the armed people in the hallway through the big door into the cold night air. 

There wasn't much more than green, bushes, trees and grass was what surrounded the litle building he had come out of, he threw the bag over his shoulders and decided to run first, he wasn't sure whether people would already decide to kill him but he wasn't going to take that risk. After glancing around, he made his way over to the left, running in a full speed, far away from the building. He didn't know for how long he had been running and he didn't know for how much longer he would be running, but all he knew was that he was going to continue. The sound of leaves shuffling and breaking underneath his shoes, made it quite obvious however he tried being as quite as possible.

He found a spot, despite having seen a little wooden house, he knew it would be too obvious to go there as someone would probably be already hiding in there or would go there soon, instead he ran a little further until he had found some high bushes, instead of hiding behind it, he managed to break some of the branches and crawl underneath it instead, figuring the change of people not finding him that way would be much higher than when hiding behind them or in such an obvious place as a small house. 

There wasn't much light as it was turning dark already, but enough for him to see what was in the bag, so as he had tugged it off his back and opened it up, he immediately looked through it. A bottle of water, some bread, a flashlight, a map and what seemed to be his weapon were stuffed inside. He immediately reached for the shiny weapon, as he was curious what it would be. As soon as more light shone on it, he realized it was a knife, one that wasn't too big, easy to carry but perhaps not too easy to use as something that could be used from afar would probably a lot easier, but he couldn't complain-- not in a situation like this.

He reached for the tie around his neck, widening it before taking it off and tossing aside, he knew being comfortable would be good right now, in order to run faster and hide easily, he wasn't supposed to stand out much, or make a lot of sounds. Taking off his bracelets, he tossed them aside also, checking the rest of his body to find out if he had anything else that could perhaps make any sounds, or reflect the light of someone else's flashlight as he was hiding in the dark. Immediately he got reminded of the collar around his neck, a frown appeared on his face only to get an idea. Leaning in, he pulled the hem of his shirt away from his body and tore a piece of fabric off his dress shirt, wrapping it around the collar making sure not a piece of the glinstering metal could be seen. 

Her bare hands stuck to the tiles beneath her when she struggled to sit up, her knees buckled and she remained kneeling, now trying to shake off the daze. As she did so, she finally took the time to look up and peer around. The scene in front of her was nonsensical at best— classmates strewn messily about, most beginning to wake and pick themselves up from the ground. None of it was making sense. What were they doing here? Something like relief though squeezed her gut that her classmates were here, she wasn’t alone; if nothing else, they could figure it out together. Right? The thought still knocked around inside of her head, as she rubbed the spot between her eyes with her fingers, groaning quietly. While massaging, her eyes briefly locked onto the male’s beside her; from the looks of it he’d gotten up before her. He stared at her strangely, which wasn’t surprising, but where his eyes fell were. She let her gaze follow his track and caught sight of the metal collar clasped around her neck.

But she wasn’t the only one, eyes widening she quickly noted his as well, and then looked around for the glint nestled under what looked to be all of her classmates’ necks. She could sense the growing panic as everyone slowly woke and continuously fingered the collar on her neck as she tried to even her breathing, control the fading buzz in her head. As if the anxiety in the room hadn’t been enough, there was a sudden raucous and the room suddenly filled with unreasonably weaponed men, but it was the teacher, a man she’d heard plenty of but had been fortunate enough to avoid, that her gaze stuck on confusedly. 

He approached the front of the class, and she could feel the earlier panic of before soften into confusion, perhaps even relief. A familiar face. An adult. Finally things would be explained. He spoke and she listened, everyone did— he introduced himself before pointing towards opposite ends of the classroom and introducing two transfer students as well. She couldn’t help but give the two boys an intent stare, she’d never seen them in her life and the amused looks on their faces told her, maybe that’d been for the best. Once the teacher pulled back and started scrawling on the chalkboard behind him; students started speaking up. Variations of “Where the hell are we?” “What’s going on?” “Who’re these people?” rung out, and she bit back her own cry, just as confused. Just as scared. But he seemed to pay none of their questions any mind, instead directing their attention to the board and what he’d just written in chalk.

He was usually quite the calm person, someone who wouldn't freak out easily and even during scary or nerve-wrecking events he would still stay calm, or at least on the outside. However this was a whole different case, he had read about it and he was scared. Days before it happened he had went onto the internet, while researching a certain subject for an assignment, he had stumbled upon something called "Battle royale". Being the curious person he was, he had read the whole blog post and at some point he had even looked through all the pictures. From what he remembered, battle royale, was some sort of war between certain people in which they had to kill each other off in order to go home, it had happened before, two or three times in different countries even. And as he was reading about it, he couldn't help but think it was such a good movie idea, he even thought of writing a story about it as he loved writing. However, he had completely forgotten about it already the next day.

When the familiar man had introduced the two "new students" he had given them a curious glare, the looks on their face seemed amused which meant they knew what was going on, either that or they were especially good at acting. He didn't stare at them for too long however, as his eyes wandered back to the man who started writing on the chalk board, immediately as the man had turned himself around the class became noisy, people asking what was going on and many questions were thrown at the man's head but he didn't even seem to hear them, he just focused on the letters he wrote, taking his time on it as if he had all the time in the world, as if there wasn't anything to worry about, perhaps not for him, perhaps it was just a fun game to him.