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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NITE. Her name bled from my mouth, spilling across my tongue like a ravenous fly on burnt custard. Every letter left on a harsh breath, my tone no louder than a snowberry moth on a humid day.
Even so, she still heard me call her name, reacting like it was a sultry siren call, wanting more. Her nails clawed at my chest, cutting off my air, making it feel like someone was scraping an acid bubble against my flesh.
LET ME OUT.
Don't say her name again. It gives her power. And DON'T let her out. I'm trying not to.
I really was, but I could feel her surging through my veins, the noxious greenness sucking up everything that I used to be, altering everything in its path, slowly morphing me into that sharp, forgotten piece that I buried so long ago.
Everything blazed in severe agony. She was like a murderous infant, carving her way out of the womb, ruining everything to get to the surface, bringing chaos and blood with her.
I coughed, hands digging into the floor, trying to control the shivers pouring down my spine in quick waves. Iciness sheeted my skin like paint on a wall, curling into my core.
LET ME OUT.
Her regal voice soothed yet frightened my soul at the same time. Every syllable lulled my suffering, promising to protect me from everything if I just stopped resisting. Just like before.
She's trying to trick you. If we let her take over, we don't know what she's going to do. She might take over forever.
NO. LIES. I KEPT YOU SAFE. EVERY TIME.
A tingling pain pricked the side of my head, and various images flashed across my eyes like a fast-forwarding video. It took me a moment to realize that they were memories. Memories that I never even knew I possessed in my head. Memories of me going through intense events — finding my butchered family, therapy sessions, and various times at the asylum — and her taking over when I couldn't deal.
YOU CALLED ME. I CAME. EVERY TIME YOU NEEDED ME.
Thick streams of crisp pain shot through my chest, each one coated with glowing green. I heaved out a gasp, spit dripping onto the floor.
THEN YOU CREATED HER. LEFT ME. LEFT ME ALL ALONE.
The toxic green pumping into me began to spew everywhere like a broken pipe, veneering my walls. The more it covered, the more nauseous it made me. I suddenly vomited, leaving a giant, chunky puddle behind as my body quivered.
Jookie paced around me, laughing. "Pressure getting to you, my little peach?"
I never looked up. Just breathed and tried to control the rapid whirl of emotions thundering inside me like an angry god. Sweat dewed my forehead, gliding down as I wheezed, barely hanging on. I dry heaved and hiccupped, my body still trying to throw up, but there was nothing left, only emptiness and stinging pain.
