A Game of Silence - part 14

The game draws closer to the end

The room felt suffocating. The air was thick with a mix of stale sweat and the faint, lingering scent of blood—the blood of the woman who had just sacrificed herself. Will’s mind buzzed with a frantic energy, every thought clouded by terror, guilt, and confusion. The door behind him was locked, and the game was still running.

He was trapped, and there was no escape.

Will’s chest rose and fell with each laboured breath. His heart was racing. His hands trembled at his sides, unable to still themselves. His mind was fractured, the pieces of his former self scattered like shards of glass across the floor.

He had run, hoping for freedom, only to find himself facing the very thing he had been trying to outrun. The game had him now. The scarred man’s taunting laugh echoed in his ears like the sound of his own doom.

Will turned, his back pressing hard against the door as he struggled to catch his breath. His eyes darted around the room, searching for some sort of escape, something that would break the unrelenting tension of the moment. But there was nothing.

The others—his fellow players—were still there, like statues, their eyes dull and hollow. Their faces were masks of fear, despair, and numbness, all reflecting the twisted reality of the game they had been forced into. Will knew that he was just as broken as they were, that he was slowly becoming just like them—empty, devoid of humanity, only a shadow of the person he once was.

The scarred man stepped forward, his boots clicking against the cold concrete floor with a deliberate slowness, each step like a drumbeat of inevitability.

“You thought you could escape,” the scarred man said, his voice smooth, almost comforting. “You thought there was a way out. But there never was, Will. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

Will’s pulse thundered in his ears. He could hear the words, but they didn’t make sense. They were too clear, too absolute, as if the game itself had taken on a voice, an identity. The scarred man was merely a puppet, a messenger for something far more sinister. Will’s mind rebelled against it, but his body couldn’t escape the feeling of being trapped, cornered, hunted.

The scarred man’s smile was wide, wicked. “It’s time. The last choice.”

Will’s stomach twisted. The words sent a cold shiver through him. The last choice.

For a moment, Will wondered if he had heard him correctly. But then, the realization hit. He understood what the scarred man meant, what he had been leading him toward all along.

It was over. The last player, the last survivor. That was how the game was played.

But there was one final sacrifice to be made.

Will’s eyes flicked to the remaining players—those who had made it this far. He saw the broken man in the corner, the woman who had given up hope long ago, and the others, their eyes vacant, faces void of any emotion. They had already chosen. They had already lost.

And now it was Will’s turn.

He had no choice. The rules of the game were clear. Only one could survive. And in the end, it would come down to this last, horrific decision: kill or be killed.

The scarred man’s eyes gleamed with excitement, as if this moment was the culmination of everything he had orchestrated. “It’s simple. You’ve already done the hard part. You’ve seen the others break, and now, it’s time for the final act.”

Will’s throat tightened. The weight of what was being asked of him crushed him. Could he do it? Could he push someone else over the edge, make them take the final step toward death, all so he could live?

His fingers curled into fists. His mind was a hurricane, thoughts clashing with emotions that he couldn’t fully grasp. His humanity, the very thing that had once made him feel alive, was slipping away, consumed by the game, consumed by the violence and terror that had defined the last days of his life.

“I can’t…” Will whispered, his voice breaking. “I can’t kill anyone else. I can’t do it.”

The scarred man took another step forward, his grin widening. “It’s not about what you can or can’t do, Will. It’s about what you must do. This is the game. You knew the stakes when you walked in. You knew there would be sacrifices. And now, you must choose who will live and who will die.”

Will turned toward the players. His eyes swept over them—each one a reflection of everything the game had done to him. Broken. Empty. Lost. And yet, they were still human. Or at least, they had once been.

There was the woman in the back corner, her face pale and haunted. Her hands were shaking slightly, but she stood there, silent, as if waiting for the inevitable. She was barely holding herself together. Will could feel the desperation radiating off her.

And then, there was the quiet man. His eyes were dull, lifeless, but Will could still see the flicker of something beneath the surface—something that wanted to survive, no matter the cost.

Will took a step forward, his heart thudding in his chest. His body screamed at him to run, to find a way out, but the door was locked. There was no escape. Not anymore.

The scarred man’s voice cut through the silence, almost soothing now. “Make your choice, Will. Choose. The game has given you the power to decide. Who will you leave behind? Who will you sacrifice?”

The weight of the decision hung over Will like a guillotine. His breath came in short, desperate gasps as he looked from one player to the next. Who?

He had to do something. He had to survive.

But as his gaze met the woman in the back, her eyes meeting his with a silent plea, something inside him cracked.

She was no longer a player. She was a victim. A victim of the game.

And as he looked at the others, the reality of the game began to set in. There were no winners here. There was only survival—and survival meant choosing who would die.

Will turned back to the scarred man, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His decision wasn’t one he could make with reason. There was no strategy, no logical step to take. This wasn’t a game anymore.

Will’s voice was low, almost trembling. “I won’t choose. I won’t kill anyone else. Let the game do it.”

For a moment, there was silence. The scarred man’s expression faltered, the cruel amusement draining from his face. There was no applause, no sense of triumph in his eyes. Just cold, calculating silence.

“You’re making a mistake,” the scarred man said, his voice lowering to a deadly whisper. “You’ve already lost, Will.”

Will’s heart raced, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a spark of something—defiance.

“I’ve already lost,” he said, his voice growing stronger. “But I won’t play your game anymore.”

And in that moment, Will made the final decision.

Not the decision to sacrifice someone else.

But to let the game fall apart. To refuse to be the player it wanted him to be. Even if it meant dying, even if it meant losing the game.

He would not kill for survival.

And with that, the warehouse fell into an eerie silence, the weight of his defiance hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

A Game of Silence is the property of the Author and must not be plagiarised. Legal action will be taken against those who copy, download, or use its content for monetization purposes.