What happens when a bunch of killers are forced to live together?
BATTLE OF THE KILLERS is a reality show that follows Betinia Woods, a girl kidnapped and forced to live in an underground bunker with twelve other killers. The bunker is equipped wit...
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SILENCE. No one clapped for me when I emerged through the curtains. A thin strand of coldness slithered through my bones. It was so quiet that I swore I could hear my own heart thrashing in my esophagus. I didn't like this already.
Peering around, the audient captured my attention first. They took up the whole back wall, at least two hundred people, and hid in the shadows, faces blurred. All the stage lights shined at the front area, omitting the back area, which left only enough residue for me to see the audience's individual body outlines, nothing more.
Just looking at the shadowy ghost-like figures made my stomach hurt. I caught one of them moving, which brought on the most intense unknown feeling ever. It felt like a punch to the ovaries, times ten.
Something was wrong — something in the audience wasn't right. I could feel it, but I couldn't explain it. The darkness within me diminished a bit, the intense emotions eating away at it like a poisonous caterpillar on a fresh leaf.
You're afraid. Am not. It's just.... I can feel something. You feel it too. Something with the audience. I know. I do feel it. I know exactly what it is too. What?
It's mother.
Mother? I froze.
She's dead. Is she? We've both been thinking of the possibility of her being alive. Don't lie. Even so, so what? I don't fear her. Hahaha, yeah okay. Then, why did you create me? Because you couldn't totally deal. Fuck you.
I stared into the audience, analyzing the shadowy shapes. None of them were her. She was dead, but this game continued to just throw her in my face. But still, that feeling of her....
A sharp pain electrocuted my scalp, sending waves down my body. With every wave, I could feel myself — the darkness, getting lighter, slowly sinking into the familiar depths that I hated. It took all my strength to stop myself from going fully under — to not disappear again. I didn't want to go back.
You need too. You caused enough trouble, and you can't deal. Yes, I can. No, you can't. No, I will do this.
Shuddering away the intensity and cutting off the internal conversation, I peered around, taking in the immaculate set, liking the dark orchid and black décor. Multiple televisions hung from the ceiling on the sides, and cameramen crowded in front of the set, equipment zeroing in on me.
With large lights and microphones hanging over him, Jookie lounged on a long black sofa in the middle of the stage. He had a microphone in his hand, and a grin on his face. A purple neon sign with the words, "Jookie Talk" plastered the wall behind him.
His hand patted the empty seat on the sofa. "Betinia, join me."
I stalked over, blade heels clicking on the hard floors. I flung my hair over my shoulder before sitting down, the effects of my earlier emotions still shifting through me. A soft breath tumbled from my lips, and I crossed my legs, trying to relax.
