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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THREE. I had three choices, and I picked the one that most fit me.
RUN!
Swerving around in the darkness, I booked it through the entryway and ran toward the light. My hand held onto the shank like it was my last connection to the free world. The cracked flooring pounded under my bare feet, jagged splinters gouging into my soft flesh. Ignoring the discomfort, my heart leaped into my rectum when I heard heavy thumps behind me.
"Run, piggy. Run those little fatty legs."
A sadistic laugh swarmed the area around me, sounding like it was coming from everywhere.
I kept moving, the walls becoming narrower until a whoosh stoked the air, and pain skirted up my shoulder. I tripped from the sharp sting, face planting into the wooden flooring. Pointy lumber scraped my lips from the fall, blood dribbling down my chin.
Gasping, a shocking ache throbbed up my torso, as I rolled over. I couldn't lie flat on my back because something skewered my shoulder, lifting me partially off the ground.
They threw something at me, and it was stuck in me. Fingers numbing, I tried to snatch it, but every movement was excruciating, my body continuously locking up from the agony.
The footsteps running at me slowed to a stop a few feet away. I whimpered and back crawled, barely moving a few inches.
A humming click went off, and the dimness lightened to a dull pink hue. It took me a moment to realize that the pinkness emanated from them. Blackness shielded their body, leaving behind only a mask. A gas mask. Soft fuchsia light illuminated from the eyeholes and the two outward-facing filters.
"Aww piggy trapped?"
The voice shrieked at me, sounding extra robotic and staticky. It was like their voice was made of pure electricity, every syllable sending a jolt up my flesh, hair lifting on my arms.
I lurched back, trying to get away, but it only made the agony jetting up my back worse. I blinked back the tears and used my left hand to touch the thing sticking out of my right shoulder. Sticky fluid glazed my tips, as I pulled on the hard, waxy object sticking out of me.
"Nah ah, piggy."
The mask bolted toward me. A boot punted me in the chest, and all air left my lungs. Letting out a choking wheeze, my back rammed into the floor, plunging the item further into me. I chomped back a high-pitched squeal by biting my lip, and metallic liquid flooded my mouth like I just bit into a jelly donut.
"Don't hold back. I want that oink. OINK!"
They stomped on my belly like they were killing a roach, propelling me harder into the ground, sticking the weapon in deeper. Ripples of electrifying pain flowed up my back and neck, as wetness damped my eyes, teeth biting my lip.
