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Sometimes it can be difficult being part of such a large yet small group of people. Often, it could feel like an overwhelmed school classroom; there were the popular kids, the valedictorians, the trouble makers, and the awkward ones.
While it would be nice if the survivor camp was as simple as a classroom of measly kids, the truth is that it wasn't.
Or maybe... It was.
You've learned the hard way that the supposed "valedictorians" in your camp were actually just cruel trouble makers in disguise, and it was unfair. Most people in the camp look up to the valedictorians, they 'respect' and 'trust' them, and so if a quiet, awkward person such as yourself ever tried to call them out, no one would believe you. To everyone else, you were inferior, weak, unreliable, burdensome, and a nuisance. To chalk it up simply: you were a talentless rookie who the best, most trusted survivors had to babysit and keep a close eye on.
While you did receive extra support and guidance from your survivor peers, there were some people in the camp who took heavy advantage of their status, and you suffered greatly because of it.
Non-stop you yearned to beg for help and scream the truth about what had been happening to you, but you feared no one would believe you. Why would they? You were the rookie. No one could fully trust you yet. If you went around saying that the people who they valued and looked up to most were actually just manipulative, violent, uncontrollable abusers, no one would want to believe you because it just didn't seem possible to them.
Your abusers made sure you knew this, too. They made sure that you knew all of the consequences of your actions. One wrong word or move, and you would be brutally punished. Don't try to fight it. There is no where to run. There is no where to hide. No one is going to save you. No one will ever believe you. You're just a nobody around here. Face it. You can't escape. Just accept your fate. Don't fight it.
Everyday, you felt trapped. There was nothing that you could do to stop what was happening in the shadows when no one else was looking. You despised it. You were livid, hopeless and depressed all at the same time. Never did you quit longing for something to change, for someone to find out, or for your abusers to quit hurting you, but it felt like change was unattainable. It was agonizing. You felt so alone, miserable and hated. Nothing made sense.
They used you and treated you like trash when no one was looking, and then they acted like you were a valuable, well respected team member in front of the crowd.
You just couldn't win.
Around four months after you arrived in the Entity's realm, something happened- something that no one, in a million years, ever saw coming.
Outside of trials, the external realm was a mysterious place. If given the opportunity, anyone could venture from the survivor woods all the way into the killers' territory. Rumor had it that there was an enormous wall covered in the gateways to each accessible realm, and it was there that the killers' thrived.
But survivors' were forbidden from leaving their own camp. It wasn't safe. Nobody could risk that kind of danger. The mysteries of what lied beyond the survivor woods were better left unknown.
You never thought much of it. In fact, you were glad that there seemed to be no physical link between you and the killers'. The thought of them never being able to enter the survivor woods was a comforting aspect that offered you a minor amount of ease at night when you tried to sleep. It was just one less thing to worry about.
Or so you 'thought'.
Because in just one night, things changed.
You woke up just barely at first. Your head lolled to the side. You almost felt like you could fall back asleep- that was until you began to register the unfamiliar, bizarre position your body was in.
As if a switch was hit, you jolted awake, opened your eyes, and tried to move.
A disastrous task.
Your realized quickly that you were tied to a chair. Your wrists were zip tied to the wooden armrests of a thinly padded chair. Your ankles were tied to the chair's legs. And a strip of cotton fabric was wrapped around your head, filling the gab of your lips and preventing you from being able to do anything more than whimper in fright.
Futile struggling came first along with panic. You wiggled and fought against the restraints. Questions bombarded you like an avalanche. Where were you? What was going on? Why were you tied up? Who was doing this? Help. You didn't like this. You didn't like being tied up. It hurt. You needed to move. It was getting difficult to breathe. Your jaw ached from the cloth and your mouth was dry. Get out. You needed to GET OUT.
Whimpering, you struggled tremendously to escape, but your efforts only caused the zip ties to dig painfully into your skin. It was near impossible to move your left wrist- the restraint was so tight. It hurt. You were scared. You needed to move. This was uncomfortable. You couldn't handle it. You didn't know what was going on.
"If you keep struggling like that, it'll only get worse," Said a voice that sent an invisible spear into your chest.
Your head shot upwards so fast that it pulled something in your neck, but you couldn't focus less on that. You were too busy taking in the sight of a dark figure leaning against the wall in front of you. It was a man clad in black cargo pants, combat boots, and a dark grey t-shirt. He had short black hair, a sharp, angular jaw, and ocean blue eyes.
Although you weren't familiar with the characteristics of his face, you recognized enough from his attire to know that he was undoubtedly the killer Ghostface.
You sat still as ripples of shock, fear, and utter dread tore through you. The full impact of the situation hammered nails of terror into you.
You were being held captive.
You were being held captive by a killer.
You stared up at him with Jupiter wide eyes. The cloth in your mouth was becoming damp with your saliva. You swore you could taste something sweet and syrupy, but like everything else you couldn't pay it any mind. You couldn't do anything besides stare at the dangerous, dark psychopath before you.
The man met eyes with you.
You winced.
"Hi," He said casually as if he had experienced this situation a hundred times.
Or maybe he was just 'that' comfortable.
Once you registered the full pot of peril you were in, you frantically began struggling again. You huffed and pulled at the restraints with all your might. It was painful. You could feel the circulation in your left hand crawling with numbness. You needed to escape. You were scared. This was terrifying. You didn't know what was going on.
You just wanted to escape.
"Hmp," The killer huffed a laugh of amusement.
You froze when he pushed himself away from the wall. His foreboding footsteps were light and slow as he approached you. At his side, he reached down for the hunting knife attached to his belt, and he pulled it from it's holster. A jolt of fear tore through you at the sight of the long, sharp blade.
"I'm gonna ask you a question," He said in his eerily smooth but dangerous voice.
You watched with wide eyes as he knelt down in front of you, his silver-blue, ice cold eyes staring up at you with mischievous intent. His gaze was intense, burning right through you. When he lifted the knife, you jerked and whimpered in fear.
He momentarily gazed to the hunting knife before holding it back to the side a safe distance away from you. "Are you gonna be a good girl/boy?"
He looked you in the eyes again.
"Or..." He brought the knife closer and steadily lifted it out in front of you. The sharp blade hovered just a few inches over your thighs, pointing directly at your stomach.
You leaned your head back as far as you could as if the notion would somehow make you appear smaller. You moved around but it was less like a struggle and more like a pathetic squirm. It couldn't be helped. You were terrified.
"Are you gonna be a bad girl/boy?" He mumbled, his head tilting.
Your chest went still as you looked at the deadly killer before you. What did he mean by that? What was going on? What should you do? Please, you were so scared. You didn't understand any of this.
Unable to prevent it, your body broke out into light trembles. The pent up breath you had been holding came out through your nose in broken segments. You stared from between the killer's ominous eyes to the deadly knife pointed at your delicate, clothed skin. His question burned at the front of your mind, and it confused you. The placement of his knife when he asked it made you believe that being "good" was what was best in this scenario. But still...
What exactly did being a "good boy/girl" mean?
"Quit messin' around," A different, much deeper, much darker voice said. "We're 'bouta start."
You jolted in alarm and tilted your head side to side in an attempt to see who the other person could be. Another killer?
In front of you, the Ghostface killer grinned and shook his head. "Always gotta ruin the fun," He sighed.
You weren't sure if you were relieved or horrified when the knife drifted away from you as the killer stood up. You accidentally followed him with your eyes, and so you missed spotting whoever else was in the room with you as they passed by.
"Ha," Spoke yet another voice you did not recognize. "The fun hasn't started yet."
Your attempt to spot the source of the other two voices went brutally interrupted as someone reached underneath the gap of the backrest in the chair you were sitting in and yanked it backwards.
The cry of shock you made went muffled against the fabric in your mouth as you were tilted at a hundred and thirty degree angle in the chair. Your feet and the front legs of the chair dangled above the ground, and you were drug across the tiled floor. Despite the horror, you tried tilting your head backwards in an attempt to see who was dragging you.
Your chest nearly exploded at the sight of the Trapper.
It was futile to squirm or try to escape. You were captured, bound and helpless. There was no telling what they planned on doing with you. None of this made any sense. What was happening right now? You had never seen the killers outside of trials. How was this possible?
You were drug through a hallway and into a large, open room. In that time, the familiarity of the walls and ceiling informed you that you were in the Raccoon City Police Station; unhelpful knowledge that only served to confuse you further. If it weren't for the fact that multiple killers were around, you'd almost believe this to be some sort of sick, twisted trial.
The Trapper drug you a few meters into the room before violently turning your chair around.
You flinched when the chair finally fell back into it's normal upright position on the ground, and you took a moment to collect your thoughts and emotions before hesitantly allowing your eyes to flutter open. The sounds of nearby, muffled voices sent an arrow of dread into your chest. No...
Similar to you, five other survivors were tied to chairs. Each had their hands and feet bound. Cloths were wrapped around their heads, keeping them muffled and silent. Many of them looked to you, despair, fear, and anger shining within their expressions.
You were in some kind of large conference room emptied of most of its desks and chairs. From left to right, you, Haddie, Ada, Rick, Mikaela and Sable were lined up with around five feet of space between each of you.
While Ada and Haddie struggled with fury and rage etched onto their faces, Rick sat straight and completely calm. Sable and Mikaela were like you, still but trembling ever gently while simultaneously scanning the perimeter for danger and threats.
You paled at the sight of Sable staring at you. In her eyes there laid warning and authority. You could practically hear the threats even though she couldn't actively speak. "Whatever happens, don't even think about saying anything."
Part of you couldn't help but to fear the possibility of Sable blaming this entire situation on you. It wouldn't be the first time she had pointed fingers of accusation at you for something going wrong. Was it like there was anything you could do? You were a useless worm compared to Sable. If you tried asking for help or admitting the truth, no one would believe you over her. Nothing you said or did mattered. Fighting was futile. You were a nobody.
Whatever happened after this nightmare with the killers, you would just have to deal with it like you always did. If Sable did lie and blame this mess on you, the entire survivor camp would undoubtedly hate you. Renato and Felix would probably punish you for whatever twisted reasons they decided to come up with, and they would be 'mean' about it.
Ugh. You closed your eyes and bowed your head. You didn't want to think about it. You wanted nothing to do with this. You just wanted to be back at camp, minding your own business and doing your own thing without anyone else around to hurt you.
The sound of multiple footsteps caught your attention and the attention of every other captive in the room.
You opened your eyes and watched as a multitude of killers came walking into the room. Many of them lacked masks and were wearing much more casual clothing than what they adorned during trials. Several of them wandered over to the many scattered chairs and couches sitting against the wall opposite of you while four of them lined up in front of you and the rest of the captives.
"At last," The killer infamously recognized as the Doctor stated. "They are all awake."
"Took long enough," Gruffy said a shorter killer wearing a grey leather jacket.
You winced whenever all of them spared you an extended glance. Liquid fear spread throughout every one of your nerves and veins. You were beyond scared. Words alone could not describe how you felt. It was just too much. You had questions and concerns, but there was little you could do to express yourself at the moment.
It was obvious that all any of you would be able to do at the moment was sit, wait, and see what happened.
"Oh, what's with the long face?" The Ghostface killer playfully shoved the Legion leader. "Lady/guy probably needed the sleep. Give em a rest."
You had no idea why that made you blush. You were being held captive by powerful, heartless, deadly killers. You shouldn't feel touched by consideration that was most likely fake. Even if it was true that you never slept well and desperately needed extra sleep, it didn't matter. No one cared about you. Everyone here probably hated your guts. If the killers decided to torture you like you were fretting, then you'd undoubtedly be the first to suffer. It's just how things always went for you.
You couldn't stop yourself from seeing whether or not any of your team mates were looking at you.
"I just wanna get started." The Legion leader snapped. "Been waiting all week for this."
"Patience, Mr. Morrison. We haven't even greeted our guests yet," Said the Doctor, his voice far richer and old timey than you would have expected.
You jostled whenever the suited killer took a few steps forward and lifted a hand out in gesture to you and the rest of the captive survivors.
"I'm certain you are well aware that you have been compromised, and now..." His eyes turned yellow and his voice became significantly deeper, "You are at our mercy."
You shuddered at the wicked grins that spread across their faces. Each of them bore dark expressions filled with anticipation, excitement, and mischief. Some of them shuffled around, their limbs unable to keep from being still as the desire to charge in an inflict harm became difficult to ignore.
"The reason as to why we brought you here is because we want to play a game with you."
All of the captives, including you, jostled in shock at that answer. You all spared each other looks filled with different emotions before the sound of the Doctor's shiver-inducing voice caught your attention again.
"There's no reason to fret. If all goes well, none of you will be harmed." The Doctor smirked while adding, "Unless you lie, that is."
Lie? You squinted your eyes. What did that even mean? Bad things would happen if you lied? What was there to lie about? How exactly did they plan on harming you?
The Ghostface killer took a step forward and explained with malicious enjoyment. "That's right. Lie to us, and your ass is getting destroyed. And believe me, we'll know if you're telling the truth or not, but it's completely up to you to test that fact."
"The rules are simple: First, we ask a question. If you answer honestly, then you will not be punished. But if you happen to lie..." The Doctor lifted up his right palm and activated his electric powers as a frightening demonstration. "I'm sure you can imagine the consequences."
What? Your eyes widened in realization. That's why they kidnapped you and brought you here? To play some kind of sick, twisted game? Seriously?
Beside you, Haddie practically rocked her chair in what you could only consider to be rage and protest. She glared at the killers and spouted loud, muffled curses at them through the fabric in her mouth.
You understood how she felt. You were angry too, but, sadly, you were familiar with this kind of situation. Being the prey, being helpless. No one around to listen to reason or take your side as you lay completely vulnerable before people far more powerful and authoritative than you. Having to accept the terms or face fatal consequences fighting them. Being stuck in what is essentially a downhill battle.
It was unfair. It was frustrating. It was painful, and exhausting, and infuriating. You knew. You've been suffering since the first week that you arrived in this hell, and you've learned that it was easier to accept the terms and suffer from the pain, humiliation and shame than to fight and face consequences far worse than the latter.
"Aww, what's the matter, huh? You pissed off?" The Ghostface mocked while pretending to wipe his eyes with his knuckles.
You heard one of the other survivors make a deep growling noise and you looked over to see Rick staring at Haddie with a firm expression. It seemed as though he was trying to get her to calm down. Haddie didn't seem to be keen on listening as she growled back and rocked her chair again.
"Fuck this shit. Let's just kill her." The Legion unsheathed his knife, but before he got to take a step forward, a large hand landed on his shoulder.
"Hold it there, kid," The Trapper demanded. "Let's jus' start the game already, l'right. First person to lie gets you. Sound good?"
The Legion leader lowered his knife and grumbled.
The Ghostface then took a proud step forward and said, "We all know the rules? We good? Alright... Then let the games begin!"
"Let us start simple. A demonstration, if you will," The Doctor explained. "Who here has lied?"
You blinked. The game was already starting? Right now? Oh god. What did you do? Did you answer? Ignore them?
Needing confirmation, you gazed to your other team mates. Rick was the only one who was nodding, and soon Ada followed his lead and nodded as well. When Sable and Mikaela did the same, you nodded your head as well.
Guess this was it.
The game had started.
"See? Not so hard, is it?" Ghostface spoke as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
"Hey," The Legion leader pointed at the person beside you. "You gonna answer?"
You jerked your head towards Haddie who struggled and violently shook her head in protest and lack of cooperation.
"I guess we should have informed you beforehand-"
The Trapper let go of the Legion leader's shoulder.
The Doctor finished, "Anyone who refuses to answer will also be punished."
Whenever the Legion leader quickly approached Haddie and lifted his fist back, you ducked your head down and clenched your eyes shut.
You could barely hear the punch and Haddie's broken garble of pain.
"That settles that." Ghostface announced. "Time for the next question."
You slowly blinked open your eyes and turned your head to see Haddie sitting quietly in her chair. Her hands were clenched around the armrests and her hair was a mess. There was no blood or sign of her getting hit, but you knew that it had happened. To see her so vividly shaken caused a sinking sensation to overwhelm you.
It really was no lie.
"Honesty is free, but lying comes with a cost." Ghostface opened what appeared to be a permanent marker. "Time to see if you lie about liking someone else's artwork."
Everyone watched as Ghostface wandered over to Sable. She squirmed when his hand reached out for her face. "Hold still," He said, but she continued to struggle.
He slapped her.
"Dammit, I said 'hold still'."
Even though Sable was one of the ones who hurt you in the shadows, you couldn't help but to sympathize with her, and you bowed your head in shame at the tiny flicker of amusement you did feel deep down in the pits of vengeful darkness lurking inside you.
The Legion leader unearthed a permanent marker of his own, and he went to stand beside Mikaela who was far more cooperative than Sable.
Once Ghostface was finished drawing something across Sable's head, he waited to be handed a handheld mirror by the Doctor. Then he lifted it out in front of her and gave her a moment to view it.
"Well?" He asked. "What'a ya think? You like it?"
Little could you see, but written across Sable's forehead was the word "slut".
As if to appease him to avoid being hurt again, she nodded.
You observed the way Ghostface looked over his shoulder towards the opposite wall where around a dozen killers sat. It was difficult to map out who he was confirming her answer with, but you hoped to figure it out soon. Was there really a way that they could tell if someone was lying or not?
"Welp... That's too bad, I guess." Ghostface clicked his teeth and delivered another mean slap across the other side of Sable's face.
You winced again, your breathing becoming rugged and fast. This was real. This was really happening. They were punishing them for lying. If somehow they truly did have a way to confirm whether or not you lied, then you would have to tell the truth no matter what. But... What if your answer upset them or offended them?
"Well? What's your answer, witch-bitch, you like it or not?" The Legion leader held the mirror out.
You watched more intently this time. Mikaela seemed to have an actual drawing on her cheek, and she trembled upon gazing at it in the mirror. After a few seconds, she shook her head. The Legion leader turned his head in the direction of the opposite wall. You combed through the arrangement of killers and spotted one who subtly nodded his head.
The Executioner.
As promised, the Legion leader stepped away from the witch and moved on to the next person in line.
So they were telling the truth. You shifted around in your seat, your left hand tingling from the tight discomfort of your restraint. You had been so distracted by the onslaught of emotions drowning you that you hadn't been paying attention to the zip tie digging painfully into the skin of your left wrist. Any longer, and you feared it may start cutting off circulation to your hand.
If they truly were telling the truth, then that meant that you could win your way out of this situation. All you had to do was tell the truth.
Both Ghostface and the Legion leader laughed at whatever they drew on Rick's face. When they asked him if he liked it, he simply shook his head, and so the two killers moved on without harming him.
The Ghostface was able to swiftly draw something on Ada's cheek before moving on to you as the Legion leader struggled to keep Haddie still.
You sat straighter in your chair as you looked up at the approaching killer. He was smiling at you, his cold blue eyes filled with challenge and mischief. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking. You shrunk a little when he bent over slightly and lifted his hands out towards your face. The sensation of his fingers resting underneath your chin and gripping gently had you blossoming with goosebumps and a light tremble.
"Hold still," He demanded in a soft voice that had your body violently arguing against a shudder.
His fingers were warm to the touch, spread out across your chin while his thumb held itself firmly against your jaw.
You closed your eyes as he trailed the tip of the permanent marker across your right cheek. The tension in your body was obvious and plain as your hands clenched around the armrests and your back stayed straight. You could almost feel an ache in your neck from the awkward angles you had been holding it in.
The killer glided the marker across your face for what felt like forever. You were both terrified and eager to know what he drew and how you would respond to it. It was beyond painful to keep still. Your eyes desired to open and your body hurt from the tension applied to it to stay as immobile as possible while the dangerous killer did his business.
"Alright," Ghostface put the cap on the marker and reached for the mirror. "What do you think?"
You stared at the mirror and studied the intricate image that had been drawn onto your skin. It was a flower. A flower with a few leaves and a bud nestled beside it. The complete simplicity of the drawing had you shocked and taken by surprise. You had expected it to be something ridiculous, ugly or degrading, especially since everyone else disliked theirs. And yet... It was pretty.
"Well?" Ghostface asked again.
You looked up at him, your eyes near watery as you slowly nodded your head, and then your body tensed up even more in solid anticipation. This was it; the true moment you learned whether or not this game was legitimate. You had told the truth. Now they either lied and punished you, or they stayed true to their word and let you be.
Which was it?
After confirming your answer, Ghostface smirked and reached out to playfully tickle the bottom of your chin with a finger, his voice a fond mumble, "Good boy/girl."
The shudder your body made in response to him could split the very core of the planet itself.
"Alright, next round!" Ghostface hollered and raced over to the opposite side of the room to grab his camera. "But first..."
He snapped a picture of you and your disheveled team members.
"In memory of our first session."