A Collection of my Writer's Games Entries

Mayhem: Task 7 (Rosella Monty) *Finals*

“So you can hurt me, but I’ll hurt you. If you hurt my friends – I’ll kill you, and I don’t care if I die trying.”

I didn’t know what I was thinking, when I killed Kyros. Some part of me just needed the satisfaction: needed the revenge. Everyone’s life comes to an end – eventually, anyways but the few final chapters are thought to be deep and meaningful. Maybe they would write a letter to their family before dying, maybe they would spend their last moments in a peaceful sleep full of dreams and happy memories. Happiness isn’t the final journey for some. Take Tove, as an example. Her final moments in whatever she may have been forced to dream were anything but joyous. If I close my eyes, I could still hear her scream. I could still hear the pain and desperation in it. That’s was everyone’s last moments in this hellhole. Pain, because they tortured our minds and stripped away everything that we had. No one deserved to die that way – with the exception of Kyros, perhaps – but definitely not the small, motionless bodies who I see every moment I turn a corner. Their lives were so short – including Tove’s and Alex’s, maybe even the two fresh bodies outside. Me? I still had hope I would make it out – and that was my plan. I was going to get Drew and Murphy out of here. Then – it’s a bit stupid, really, but no one gets away with hurting my friends. Then, I was going to kill the people who made all of this happen. I was going to make their final chapters full of pain and gore.

I was exploring the mall – to find a potential escape route – when I heard the glass smash. It was unique, in a way, but sounded so elegant and the same time. The shatter on the impact, the tinkling it makes when it falls – then it breaks on the ground beneath. My head whipped around to find the source but I found nothing. I looked up to the second floor. I was sure Drew would be fine taking care of Murphy but I still couldn’t trust anyone else to look after him. The door that had been bolted for several days – or possibly weeks – started rattling. Someone was breaking in, but they didn’t sound like someone nice.

“…I’ll kill them all! No survivors this time…..” I only caught a few words from the familiar voice. It sounded angry and mentally insane. In fact, I heard this same voice on several occasions. It still gave me shivers down my spine. It was the man from the microphone. I didn’t waste any of my time. I ran. I bolted up the stairs – dodging the numerous obstacles that were scattered. I arrived at the bookstore and noticed two things.

1.       Giorgi’s body had disappeared.

2.       Drew was also missing.

Murphy cocked his head to one side, as if to say ‘What’s wrong?’ But I didn’t have time to reply. The doors below gave a loud smash as the metal that bound them together snapped. I jumped slightly and rushed to Murphy.

“Try getting up, I’ll be right back,” I signed quickly, hoping that he got it, and rushed to find Drew. I did a sweep of the shelve aisles before checking the storage room. He was silhouetted by a small piece of light. A window was high up and as I said his name, Drew tumbled down in fright. A very recognizable item fell to the ground with him.

“Dammit Rose!” he said, rubbing the back of his head.

“We have to leave. The crazy man is coming for us,” I blurted out before pulling him to his feet.

He grabbed the sword. The same sword I had within my grasp a few days ago, but I let the issue go. We had more important things to worry about. The cursing was getting louder as loud bangs and smashing sounds echoed. He was angry – possibly a little crazy with death. Murphy was leaning on a shelf when we got to him. I took one side and Drew took the other. Murphy hopped with our help and as we got to the front of the store – we saw him. He was the reason we were trapped/ He was the reason that we were on death’s row. And I couldn’t have hated him more. His stupid golden hair that was messy from weeks of not brushing it. His tall frame, if I didn’t hate him so much – maybe I would call him pretty. But in my current view, he was disgusting. And when he turned around, his chestnut-coloured eyes met mine. I was frozen in place for a moment, so was he. Staring each other down – I wasn’t going to break away but my mind was frantically trying to come up with ways to get out of here.