Writer's Games: Carnival

Semi Finals: Aspen Facine

I am nothing but an animal. Stripped of humanity, poked and prodded. To follow at every whim in hopes of something good at the end. Restrained by chains and cuffs and forced to do whatever I am told. And If I refused? I am punished, tortured, killed off like so many before me. Maybe I should feel safe inside this room, where there is no way for anyone else to enter. But it only reminds me of a cage. If there is no way for anyone to enter, there is no way for anyone to escape.

I run my dirty hands across a pink scar on my arm, I can’t tell if it’s new or old, now that there’s so many of them. I don’t even recall where it came from, what it’s story is. I have never minded scars even if they are hideous because often they remind me of a battle. Perhaps I was able to steal the ball from an opposing player, but their cleats grazed my leg. Maybe a small little scar, a scratch from when I was younger and got it running away playing tag. But either way they were a symbol of the victories along my short life. Until now. Now they plague me, haunt me. The scar from where Viola’s nails dug into my skin before I attempted to kill her. The time when I was sprayed with acid while killing others. They scare me more than going to sleep at night does.

“What is there to say about my life?” I call out to the room. “Nothing. You have stripped me, of my joy, my innocences, and now you want my childhood?”

I sit against the wall and tilt my head up. “Why should I give that to you? You who has locked me up where, forced my to do awful things. You already know where half of the scars on my body come from, because either you inflicted it yourself or told someone to do it for you.”

“But I’ll tell you one little secret, you’re not the first ones to scare me like this. To horrify me to the point where my legs shake and my eyes are constantly alert for danger. How does it feel? To have that taken away from you!” I scream. “How does it feel to know that you don’t get the prize of being the very first person in my life to torment my dreams. I hope it feels bad, you sadistic people. Because I know, that you’d love that honor.”

“If you want to know something about my life. I guess I can tell you about the person who took that away from you. You’d like that...right? You’d like to learn a story about me where I’m in pain, like the pain you love to watch me go through in here.” I shout, letting my words echo of the walls of my cage. “Since you know so much about all the physical scars I’ve endured, because you’ve witnessed them, I can tell you about the mental ones, even though I have enough of them from this.” I don’t know who I’m supposed to be talking to, Sayuri, Callisto, or Atilius, or all three of them. But I hope that at least one of them is watching because I hope they can see what they’re doing to people, to me.

“March 21st, three years ago when I was eleven years old. Eleven years old...it’s kind of young for a traumatic experience...but a lot of people here are - were way younger than that. Charlotte, she was eight. Some were younger than that.” I sigh, “March 21st, as I was saying. I’ve noticed that many traumatic experiences start out with happy times. Like this one, I was with my friends having a good laugh and all of a sudden there’s blood everywhere. My soccer team had rented one of those fancy buses. The ones that are high up, and don’t require seatbelts and even have mini tv sets.”

“Maybe you don’t know what those are. Considering the sick sick people your are, I assume you only like to travel by torture device or horror inducing vehicles.” I’ve never been this outright about hating on Atilius, Callisto and Sayuri before out of fear of them killing me. But there are some things that need to be said, they need my story so they won't kill me yet and they still need me for entertainment. “The bus pulled over to the side of the road, some time about an hour or so after we had let on our trip for a soccer championships. It was sort of horror movie-esque being that it was dark out and we just suddenly pulled over.”

My heart starts to pound in my chest, even harder than when I was cramped in the haunted house hiding, and faster than when I attempted to shove Viola’s face into the rollercoaster tracks. “And...and the bus driver...he said “Don’t worry, we’re just experiencing some small difficulties, it’ll only take a second for me to check.”” Tears are forming in my eyes. “So he goes out for a couple minutes before coming back in and...pulling out a gun.”

“He….he.” Pause. “Pulled the trigger.” I’m crying uncontrollable sobs push from my throat, it’s getting hard to talk. “I don’t know what gun it was but there was bullets everywhere. Shots...and screams. At some point I got hit, right near my ribs.” I have to pause to control myself through the sobs in order for them to be able to hear me. “It was so surreal, lying there bleeding out while my friends around me died.”

I don’t talk for a while, silently brushing off the tears that come down. “I woke up in the hospital, to my family around me and the news blaring on a tv screen in the corner.” Breath in and out, I tell myself. Calm. “I lost four teammates that day, me amongst ten others were injured. Only five people left physically unscathed. The guy, the driver...apparently he was from a rival team and he wanted to eliminate us...I don’t know, I can’t remember the motive over all the tears.”

“It was months of depression and therapy. I still get therapy, or I did before landing up here.” I say. “And I considered that to be the most horrific experience in my life until now. Watching so many people die, lose others. It’s multiplied here from what I saw three years back.”

“Do you see what you do to people.” I scream. “You rip people away from their families and friends, and watch them die right in front of your eyes. Those people will never come back, their hearts will never beat again.”

“I lost my friends that day, just innocent kids. Lyssa... Sydney... Carly...Olivia. They’re never going to live again. Now they’re just people I used to know, now they’re only people that can be referred to in present tense because they’re gone dead.” I’m angry at the same time that I’m scared, and upset. “I’ve seen what just losing four people does to a community. Let’s see what your twenty does.”

“Those of us that leave and survive here, will leave scarred. We’ll probably need years of therapy, and time to cope. It’ll be a long time before we trust others again. I know, because I’ve been through that before.” I say. “So now you have my story. Maybe you don’t believe me but I hope you see what you’re doing, what it does to people. Dead memories, dead hearts, dead smiles are all your actions are bringing. The people that die here aren’t coming back.”

“I hope you get your act together, because when you get arrested, you’re going to do crimes for all your awful actions. And when you do, I hope you get the chance to rot in prison, and see the faces of those you’ve killed everyday before you, I hope you regret everything.”

“I’m done.” I say. “I’m done talking. I have nothing else to say to you monsters. You’ve exploited me, manipulated me, and now you’ve taken my secrets away from me. But I swear it on the life I have left. No matter what it takes, you will be locked away for the rest of your life. Forced to reflect on everything you’ve ever done in your sick life.”
I’m silent after that