A Game of Silence - Part 11

Will beginning to mentally break.

The room felt like it was closing in on him. The walls, once too far away to even consider, now seemed like they were pressing in, inching closer with each passing second. Will’s breath came in shallow gasps, his heartbeat pounding against his ribs as the realization set in—he was trapped.

Trapped by the game. Trapped by the rules.

He had tried to ignore it. He had tried to convince himself that there had to be another way out, another option. But the truth was undeniable now. The others were no longer people—they were obstacles, each one a stepping stone on the path to survival. And every time he hesitated, every time he questioned what was happening, another part of himself slipped away, another piece of his humanity erased.

And then there was the scarred man, whose cold eyes never left him. The hunter. The predator. Will could see the madness simmering just below the surface of that grin, the satisfaction of someone who had long since abandoned the idea of redemption. He was the game now, and Will was just another pawn.

“You’ve been quiet,” the scarred man said, his voice sharp like a blade. “Too quiet.”

Will flinched, his heart skipping a beat as the man took a step closer. The others were watching. He could feel their eyes on him, cold and expectant, waiting for him to make the next move. The next choice.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Will muttered, his voice strained and raw. “I don’t have anything left.”

“Oh, but you do,” the scarred man said, his grin widening. “You have everything left. You have them.” He gestured around the room at the remaining participants, each of them looking more hollow and desperate with every passing minute. “You have the power to choose who goes next. You just have to make them choose.”

Will’s stomach lurched. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. The very thought of having to break someone else, of pushing them over that edge, made his skin crawl. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t a killer.

But the game didn’t care about that. The game didn’t care about who he used to be. It only cared about who could survive.

“Do you see it now?” the scarred man continued, his voice low and taunting. “The choice isn’t about morality. It isn’t about right and wrong. It’s about power. About survival. And the only way to survive is to make someone else make the choice.”

Will’s head was spinning. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of confusion and horror. The walls of the warehouse seemed to shrink around him, the air thick and suffocating. He needed to breathe, to think, but his mind was clouded with the same thought, over and over:

Make someone else choose.

The room felt too small, too confined. His thoughts kept circling back to the others—the quiet woman, the strategist, the ones who had done whatever it took to stay alive. Their eyes were on him, cold, expectant. They had already made their choices.

The strategist, who had been silent for a while, stepped forward. His eyes were calculating, the same calm demeanour he had always had. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You still think there’s a choice to be made. There’s not. The moment we all agreed to come in here, we lost the right to choose. We became players. We became part of the game.”

Will’s breath hitched. “No. That’s not true. There has to be a way out. There has to be—”

“No.” The strategist’s voice was a whip-crack of finality. “The only way out is winning. And the only way to win is to make someone else lose.”

The truth of it settled over Will like a blanket of ice. He wasn’t playing anymore. He was being played. He had been manipulated from the start, each moment leading him further down a path where there were no other options, no way back. There were only choices—brutal, ugly choices—and the game demanded he make them.

And then, just as the weight of the moment began to settle, he heard it—the sound of a door opening.

Will’s head snapped to the side, his eyes wide with disbelief. The door was unlocked.

His body surged toward it, his legs moving before his mind could catch up. The exit. It was right there, just a few feet away. His heart hammered in his chest as he grabbed the handle, pulling it with all his strength. But the door didn’t budge. The lock was still in place.

A voice, low and amused, came from behind him. “Did you really think it would be that easy?”

Will’s hand shook as he released the door handle, his mind reeling. The scarred man was standing behind him, watching with the same cold, dead eyes.

“You want out?” the scarred man asked, his grin widening. “Here’s the catch. You’re not leaving until the game is finished. And you’re not getting out until you’ve made your choice.”

Will stumbled back from the door, his legs unsteady, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt a wave of despair wash over him, overwhelming and suffocating. It was all a lie. The door wasn’t real. The idea of escape had been nothing more than a false hope, a cruel tease designed to break him. There was no escape.

“You can’t hide from the truth,” the scarred man said, his voice calm but filled with malice. “The door isn’t open. The only way out is to win. And the only way to win is to make them choose.”

The realization hit Will like a slap to the face. He had no more choices left. The game had taken everything from him. His dignity, his humanity, his sense of right and wrong. All of it had been stripped away, piece by piece. And now, the game was asking him to do the unthinkable: to choose who would die next.

He looked at the others, their faces blank, lifeless, waiting. His eyes fell on the quiet woman, the one who had been trying to hold onto some semblance of normality. She met his gaze, her eyes pleading, but there was no sympathy in her expression. She wasn’t a person anymore. She was just another obstacle.

Will swallowed hard. He had to choose.

“Do it, Will,” the scarred man’s voice broke through the haze of his thoughts. “Do it now. Or I will.”

The walls of the room seemed to press in on him, suffocating him, driving him to the edge of madness. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think.

And then, with a heart full of dread and a soul already broken, Will knew—he had already made his choice. The game had won.

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