The Trials

When an insane Prime Minister reads The Hunger Games and Harry Potter, he gets inspiration from them and creates the Trials for every Year 11 student to face. Every year, one is held in every school. 240 go in, and 1 comes out.
200 years later, Tamara Hensworth has a good life. She has good grades, good friends, and her heart set on a cute boy. But as the year begins, her life falls into ruin. The Trials bring destruction, despair, and most importantly, death, meaning Tamara is most likely going to end up dead, along with her friends and her boyfriend.
Tamara needs to fight for survival, but it's hard against people she's known her whole life. But what can she do? Die saving someone else's life or live and be responsible for many other's deaths?
This Movella was shortlisted for Movella of the year 2012 :) thanks to everyone who nominated me or voted for me!
Cover by Zoe Nightshade from World of Covers :)


6. Truth

Abigail Knight.



My best friend from Primary Division.


She’s dead.

My entire childhood was spent with a girl now dead.

She’s never coming back.

I’ll never get a chance to make up with her.

Her last memory of me was me shouting at her, telling her that Belinda was a really nice person, swearing at her and telling her that I would never want to talk to her again.

I guess I never did.

The hair I braided when she wanted to feel beautiful is now matted and red with blood.

The face that was always bright and laughing is now twisted in constant terror.

The head that lay on my shoulder when she cried was now pierced with a bullet that has silenced her forever.

Abigail Knight.



This is what flows through my head in the 6 and a half seconds of silence that pass throughout the Compound hall.

The deepest silence I have ever heard.

And then pure emotion leaks from our broken bodies.

Friends from her room, room F7, crumble to the floor with tears leaking from their eyes. Just this morning I heard them laughing together over breakfast. Her last meal. Enemies of hers, and she had a few, cover their faces to stop everyone knowing their real feelings. Because she was a big part of everyone’s lives. Some shake their heads in disbelief, some sit down because their legs stop working, but most cry or comfort friends.

Me? I stand completely still because everything is numb. I can't move, even if I want too. Abigail, only minutes before had walked shamefully out of the hall, in trouble for slacking. And now, she’s gone. She’s gone! My eyes don't blink and I feel them well up to make up for it, and my hands begin to shiver and shake. I feel nothing, not even emotion, and I lose myself in time. The moment of blank feelings lasts a lifetime.

"So, are you guys all finished gaping and gasping?" Roberta's words fly past me, only briefly tickling my ears. Then all the emotions zoom back into my head and break me down. I grab my suddenly aching head and crouch on the floor, letting the waterfall from my eyelids leak onto the floor with no end or care. The water falls freely from my head onto the pure silver metallic floor and I let out a painful scream. I don’t care who hears me. Others join mine as the room collapses into disrepair.

And out of nowhere, a hand grabs mine and pulls me up. It’s other hand wipes away my tears. I open my aching eyes and I see it's, to my surprise, Maria Pentlow. She was my other best friend in Primary Division, but we fell out at the same time as I fell out with Abigail and we never spoke again. I sniff up my tears and look her in the eye with a solemn smile. She was still best friends with Abigail right up until her death. How is she keeping herself together?

"Abigail would have wanted us together again Tamara, as friends." She gives a weak smile. "Please, do it for her." I nod my head in agreement and give her a friendly hug. I quietly cry into her shoulder and she strokes my hair like we did years ago when something bad happened. She only lets go when Roberta's big, bold voice bounces harshly through the room.

"Right then Year 11, it's time you found out the truth. The Trials are not just about survival skills, it’s about actual survival. Because by the end of the year 238 of you will be dead." She lets the last word linger around the room with a dark glare hanging about it. Even the many screams that occur do not drown out the sound of that fact. 2 of us will survive. No, wait, there aren’t 240 of us anymore... there are 239. One will survive. Only one person in the hall will survive. The rest of us will die.

"There are 3 sections to the Trials, and each will last 8 weeks with 4 weeks break, and will take the lives of 80 of you. The first is training, where we learn the different skills needed for life and survival. Every day, the person that has under-performed will be executed in the same way that Abigail was today. This will happen for a while, but in the next couple of weeks we may change the execution system. We will tell you what that other system is when we make the change, and about the next sections when it comes closer to the time, if you make it of course. Which I know not all of you will. Now we need to set some ground rules. Your death is almost inevitable. In this first section there is no fighting it, or else it may become more gruesome and painful. Got that?” No one answers. “Good. Now, you will not tell any of the younger students about what happens here, or they will be executed. And so will you. And your whole dorm. Are you clear?" All that is heard is the sobbing from Abigail's friends. "Good. It's time for your dinner; I'll see you tomorrow for more weapon training." Only then does she put down Abigail's decapitated head.

The doors click open and the broken year group slowly leave the hall. Maria gives me one last hug and runs off to catch up with her 'friends'. Seriously, how can she not be affected like this? I still feel like there is no movement in my legs, but I somehow manage to move them in the exits direction.

Right before I get to the door, I look back at the nearly empty hall where my life changed forever. Instead, I see Roberta curled in the corner crying.

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