Play the Game

I sat in my room. The only light came from a broken and dusty window that showed the dark and ominously grey clouds above. It was going to rain, I could smell it, but I wasn’t ready for it. Not yet. Not after what had just happened.

Bursts of brilliant light briefly illuminated the rotting walls of what used to be my bedroom, a place of comfort and serenity. Now it was just a room, a horrible room full of nightmares and unspeakable horrors. The light made the crimson streaks on the tacky wallpaper seem to come alive, to leap out at me. And for a brief second, my mind wondered what my mum would have said if she had seen these stains. Oh how she would have screamed and yelled. If only she were here. It’s lonely in the dark recesses of my mind.

I flinched at the boom of thunder that inevitably follows lightning. My little brother always used to run outside when he heard it, laughing and playing in the dreaded flashes as if they were a summer water sprinkler. My mum would watch from the doorway, grinning and chuckling and shaking her head at the strange boy.

I brave a look over my bed to see the rest of my room. Everything’s dark until the ligning illuminated the body lumped on the floor in the opposite corner from me. I turn away, tears forming at the corners of my eyes.

Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t everyone just be the same? No differences, no harmful qualities.

No malformations.

I instinctively tried to hide my right hand. I was born with three fingers on that hand, and though all three were completely functional, I was always made fun of.

I remember once in primary school when I was six, and some prissy little girl called me an alien. Everyone else in my class thought it was very clever, and from that day on I was called Alien. Everyone at school eventually forgot my real name. And with time, I started to as well.

I remember the day 12 years later when I stood outside that girl’s window, grinning that she had left her window unlocked. I had been watching her, and knew she was a deep sleeper. But this night was different than the numerous other nights that I had spent watching her. That night, I had a sword.

She never saw it coming.

Now here I sit in my room, or what’s left of it, with a body on the floor. Where did everything go wrong?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

*flashback to earlier that day*

A little family sits down to dinner. The mother’s curly blond hair bounces as she lays out food on the table. She wipes her floured hands on her already dirty apron, careful not to get any on her clothes. She never did like messes, and today she tried her very hardest to not get her frilly yellow spring dress dirty.

“Liam! Ben! Come down for dinner!”, she calls.

A little boy around the age of 5 bursts into the kitchen and sits at the table, fork raised and ready for digging in. Another boy appears in the dining room. He’s around 17 years old with bright red hair. He always wore this stupid grin on his face that was one part happiness and nine parts sorrow and pain. His mum believes he smiles to give her and Liam the sense that he’s doing alright after the divorce. She knows better.

His brilliantly bright hair reaches below his ears, and would hang into his eyes if he ever let it. He always sticks it up in messy angles, and the look works for him. His mother never approved of his hair, but she never said anything about it either.

Forks clink against plates and the family talks about the day while bright sunlight streaks in through the skylight above the table.

“Anything interesting happen at school today, Ben?”, the mother asks.

Ben looks up from his food, “Not really, just the same old thing.” He replies.

“How about you, Liam? Surely something eventful happened to you!” the mother coos at her younger child.

“We drew pictures of cows and barns today,” Liam said enthusiastically, “I even drew a pig!”

“That’s great, honey!” the mom replied.

All of a sudden the front door opens, and a man starts shouting at the mother.

“Ben, please take Liam and go into your bedroom. Lock the door and don’t open it for anyone,” The mother says calmly, “I love you.”

Ben picks up Liam, who’s halfway through eating his peas, and rushes upstairs. He locks the door and huddles in the corner with Liam, cradling him and covering his ears when the screaming starts coming from downstairs.

Everything suddenly becomes quiet. Ben steals a look into the bedroom, but quickly ducks back down when he starts hearing the slow footsteps come up the stairs.

*clomp…clomp…clomp…*

The heavy footsteps make the floor vibrate.

Ben holds Liam closer.

“Liam, don’t scream or cry okay? I know it’s scary but please, don’t make a noise.” Ben tells Liam. Liam nods into Ben’s chest and is quiet. The steps stop outside the bedroom door.
Ben reaches behind him and grabs the Samari sword that had hung on his wall for decoration for years. He hoped it was sharp enough to do what he needed it to do.

The bedroom door opens.

Ben lunges at the man, but catches his foot on a raised floorboard. He lands at the feet of the strange man. Without looking him in the face, Ben quickly slashes at the man’s legs, causing him to crumble to the floor in agony. Ben no longer has control of himself. He slashes the man again and again, and blood goes everywhere. He finally sinks the sword into the man’s neck, slowly killing him.

Liam finally starts crying out. Ben looks over at him and watches as Liam, eyes wide in horror, tries to push himself into the wall, trying to get as far away as he can from the murder he just witnessed. Ben reaches out to him, but Liam cowers at the touch. Ben is no longer his brother, but a stranger.

Ben tries to chase Liam around to catch him, but he runs out of the room and downstairs. Ben attempts to follow him, before hearing a blood curtling scream followed by dead silence.

Finally, footsteps ascend the stairs.

Ben rushes into his wardrobe, leaving a small slit in the door so he can see most of his bedroom.

Two men dressed all in black appear in the doorway. They see the dead man on the floor and run out. Ben listens as the front door slams and tires screech in the driveway. All becomes silent.

Ben slinks out of the wardrobe and dons a black robe complete with a hood that he got as a present from his mum last Christmas. He thinks that the robe will at least cover up his obnoxious hair if nothing else.

Halfway down the stairs, a trail of blood begins. Ben follows it as it reaches the bottom step and turns the corner…