The Chosen

They call me Fire, as I am the most merciless of them all. I do not discriminate; there is no gender, race, or age I won’t kill. My body was covered in dried blood; the blood of the people I had murdered.
It had been three days since the game had started, and I was in the lead. The scoreboard hung over the arena with the names and score of each of the players. I knew the world was watching me as I ran through the trees, in search of my next victim.
~The Selection: A Writing Competition~


2. Chapter Two

I woke up in an examination room. My father had told me about this part. They test you, see whether of not your strong enough to have the reason of your being removed. I took a deep breath, and waiting for the doctor.

They had removed my shirt, leaving me in just grey sweats. I thought back to the last thing I remembered. Grace, Thomas, Anna, George, and Minnie were standing on the horrid stage. I knew that it could be any of them I was facing in the arena. Jeremey would be a difficult opponent. He was a few inches taller than me and outweighed me in muscle by about twenty pounds. Amy would probably be one of the first to die. She had a very slim chance of being a Chosen, and even as one, it wouldn’t be that hard to bring her down.

I knew I would be a big deal; the child of a previous winner being in the game. I knew I would automatically be a crowd favorite, given the fact that everyone would assume I was like my father. I’ll be honest. I hope I’m not one of the Chosen. If I’m going to die in this game, I want to go out being myself, not a monster wearing my skin.

A woman and two men walked in. One man went and stood behind me, the other went to stand beside the woman who was dressed in a white lab coat.

“Hello, Jordon. I assume your father told you what happens in here,” the lady stated and I stared at the wall behind her.

“He may have mentioned it.”

“Then you know what I do,” she said, walking forward. She rested her hand on my chest and slowly led me backwards. My legs hit the table and I sat. She kept moving her hand until I was laying down, my bare back hitting the cold table.

“You could’ve at least put paper down,” I muttered and the woman frowned.

“You know very well that this is the most comfortable you will ever be again,” she said. I knew that she didn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it had, but I couldn’t get it out of my head throughout the examination.

‘I’ll never be this comfortable again.’

‘I’ll never have a proper meal again.’

‘I’ll never see Grace again.’

‘I’ll never see my family again.’

‘Maybe I’ll see Ben again.’ I gave a small smile at the thought of seeing my little brother, the one that had been killed in the game two years ago. He had fought viciously for a child who had their soul, and would have had a chance at winning, had a Chosen not taken him down in the final thirty.

It’s very rare for a Chosen not to win, or at least not to score the highest. The winner gets freedom, and the family of the highest score gets riches. If you are a true winner, a winner of both, then you get to select your prize. Your freedom, or wealth to your family. You cannot have both. No one can have both.

There was sting in the back of my neck that cut me out of my trance. I was sitting up now, reaching back and placing my hand onto the back of my skull.

“This will help us trace you,” the doctor said. “It will also ensure you don’t try to run off and avoid contact with others, because if you do, your neck will snap and you’ll die. No points will be earned upon your death, so don’t be wasteful.”

Ah, the points. The thing everyone was obsessed with.

Anything considered to be a boring kill is worth one point.

A kill where they get in a hit on you is two points.

A kill where they fight back and you don’t get hurt is three points.

Anything considered to be an abnormally entertaining kill is four points.

First kill gets five points.

Last kill is six points.

It’s a fairly easy system to remember, and everyone is taught it at a young age so they can understand as they watch the game.

“I am happy to say that you are one of the Chosen,” the lady said and my head snapped up to look at her. No. No no no no no no no. This couldn’t be happening.

“No!” I shouted and tried to get off the table but the man behind me pinned me down. “Get off me!” I screamed but it did nothing. I felt a syringe stab into my chest, right above my heart, and as she she pulled it back, glowing blue liquid began to fill it.

After a moment, she removed it. She placed the syringe into a case that was on the table to the side and closed it, walking out of the room with the two men.

My insides, they felt empty and I knew it had happened.

I knew that what my father had told me was true.

I knew my soul was gone.

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