A Game of Silence - Part 7

Participants planning their next target

The room had become a den of tension. The air was thick with anticipation, with whispers and furtive glances exchanged between the remaining participants. Every eye in the room was trained on the strategist and the scarred man, and Will knew that the moment they’d been dreading was upon them. The next move was theirs to make.

“We need someone else,” the strategist said, his voice cold, like he was discussing a mere business transaction. “Someone we can control. Someone weak.”

His eyes flicked around the room, evaluating each person like an animal sizing up its prey. Will felt a chill run through him, and his stomach turned. He had already chosen a side—he had already betrayed his own morals, and now it felt like there was no turning back.

But his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone sobbing in the far corner. It was the woman who had been pleading earlier, the one who still clung to the idea that they didn’t have to play by these rules. But it was clear to Will now—she was broken. There was no fighting the game anymore. There was only survival. And survival required a price.

“Her,” the scarred man said, pointing directly at the woman in the corner. “She’s lost. She’s a liability. Weakness.”

Will’s chest tightened. The woman had been the last one holding onto some semblance of humanity, trying to rally them, but now she was crumpled in on herself, her face streaked with tears, her body hunched over in defeat. She had been broken by the game, and now she was the easiest target.

“No,” Will said before he could stop himself. “No, we can’t. She’s not… she’s not ready.”

The words came out shakier than he expected. His throat was dry, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He couldn’t look at the woman without feeling the weight of his own guilt. He had already made his choice to survive, but this—this was different. This wasn’t about playing the game anymore. This was about breaking someone completely, using them as a pawn for their own gain.

The strategist’s gaze locked onto Will. There was no sympathy in his eyes. There was only calculation. “What’s it going to be, Will?” he asked, his voice almost a taunt now. “We’ve all made our choice. She’s already checked out. Either you do this… or we’ll find someone else.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with threat. Will’s throat went dry. The fear of being next—of being forced to make another choice—gnawed at him. And that fear… it was the thing that made him hesitate. Survival at any cost.

His mind raced, but there was no time to think. The game wasn’t going to wait for him to have a moral epiphany.

“You know what has to be done,” the strategist said. He stepped closer to Will, his voice low and steady. “We all do. We can’t let any of them get in our way. This is the only way.”

Will’s breath hitched, his body stiffening, but then—he saw the other people in the room, standing in quiet circles, whispering among themselves. They were all thinking the same thing. They were already moving past the question of morality. It wasn’t about what was right or wrong anymore. It was about who would make the next move.

And the price of making that move wasn’t just the death of someone else. It was the slow and steady death of himself, piece by piece. His sense of self, his integrity, his compassion—it was all slipping away.

Before he could stop himself, before he could even think about the consequences, he spoke again.

“Do it.”

The words were cold, detached, as though they weren’t even his. He had said them, but it felt as if some other version of him had taken control. A version that had already succumbed to the game.

The scarred man grinned. “Good choice.”

The woman in the corner didn’t even look up as the others surrounded her. Her eyes were hollow, her spirit completely crushed. There was nothing left in her, nothing but the acceptance of what was happening. She had already given up before they had even approached her.

“Do you want to live?” the strategist asked her, kneeling in front of her, his voice deceptively gentle.

She barely nodded, her head jerking once in acknowledgement, but it was clear that she wasn’t truly there anymore. She was already too far gone. Her will had broken, and now she was just waiting for the end.

“No,” the strategist said flatly, standing up. “That’s not enough. You have to ask for it.”

Will felt his stomach churn as he realized what the strategist was trying to do. He wasn’t just asking for the woman’s death—he was forcing her to give in, to choose it. It was twisted, but that was the game now. Convince someone to die—that was how it worked. Not just convincing them to give up. Convincing them to want it.

It was grotesque, and yet… no one stopped it. No one dared to.

The woman’s gaze flickered, and she spoke the words that sealed her fate. “Please… just let it end. Please.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper. Will didn’t even know if she realized what she was saying anymore. It was as though the last remnants of her humanity had been swallowed whole by the game.

And just like that, she was gone.

The room was silent again. The others around her were almost too quiet, as if they were afraid to move or speak. The woman had just given them permission. She had given them the justification they needed, and now… she was a casualty of their survival.

Will’s chest tightened. He felt the weight of her death settle over him like a shroud. He had made the decision. He had chosen to play the game. But each step he took in that direction felt like an irreversible fall into darkness.

They were all becoming something else. Something less human.

As the room remained still, the strategist spoke again, his voice cold. “Only one of us gets to walk out of here. And it won’t be any of them. Not if we can help it.”

The others nodded in grim agreement, their faces tight with determination. They had no choice now. The walls were closing in. There was only one way out—and that way was through each other.

Will felt something inside him crack, deep and hollow. He was no longer sure who he was anymore, or who he was meant to be. The game had blurred the lines between right and wrong, between survival and sacrifice.

All he knew now was that if he didn’t make another choice soon—if he didn’t act—he would be the next to fall.

The next casualty.

And there was no escape from that.

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 for monetization purposes.