The belt split her skin like a zipper, each lash etching fire onto her spine. She bit her lip hard—tasting blood, but refused to make a sound.
Her father's grunts filled the room, punctuated by the sickening thwack of his belt. The girl was already used to this.
His shoes stomped around her body as if she's an insect.
"You worthless little—" he growled, punctuating his words with another lash. She felt the welts rising on her back, but she stayed still, kneeling and accepting the beating in silence.
His anger seemed to feed on her silence, making him hit harder.
"You're useless!" he roared, kicking her side.
A gasp escaped her as she hit the floor—dust coating her tongue. Her father paused—then kicked again. Harder.
Each kick stole her breath, yet she choked back every cry.
This...this is normal.
This is my life.
She forced herself upright—kneeling again, arms braced. The belt came down—once, twice—each strike landing with a sickening thwack.
Again and again.
The blows echoed off the walls; the pain was a familiar fire. Fortunately, she'd learned to endure it.
Just as she stared blankly at the floor, the beating stopped abruptly.
"Tch."
Her father's footsteps faded into the dark. The room grew colder—empty now except for the echoes of his love—violence.
She didn't—couldn't move, every muscle is locked. Tremors wracked her body as warmth seeped through her shirt, the fabric staining red with blood.
The silence suffocates as thoroughly as the pain.
In this house?
Justice never exist.
"Karina! KARINA! WAKE UP!"
A familiar voice yanks Karina from the clutches of her nightmare. She sits upright, her pulse throbbing in her temples, and blinks at her friend's tense face.
"Alyn?" Her voice slurs. The remnants of her nightmare clings to her as she squints at her friend's pinched expression. What's happening—?
"Someone's looking for you," Alyn's gaze flicks to the classroom door.
Karina squints past Alyn. The doorway frames a man in a black suit. Dark glasses obscure his eyes, though she can't see it clearly, his attention pierce through her skin.
Who...?
She wipes sweat from her upper lip, fumbles for her mint spray, and forces her legs to stand. Around her, whispers slither:
"Damn, he's tall."
Karina shrugs her shoulder. Women.
"Creepy man. He looks like a hitman."
Now that rings true.
The man doesn't care for introductions. Instead, with glacial precision, he reaches into his coat and extracts a cream envelope.
"Karina Navia Marquez..."
"For you."
With confuse expression, Karina opens the envelope and pulls out a letter. As she unfolds it, her pulse quickens.
"WELCOME TO THE GARDEN OF LAIR.
You're invited to come and play."
A single sheet of paper, yet it sends a shiver down her spine.
Is this a scam? she thought.
Then, it hits her—the contract. The one she signed a year ago.
Okay, so this is not a scam
The terms in there are clear: Once submitted, there's no backing out. The date is set. Failure to comply will have dire consequences.
Alyn's sharp inhale snaps Karina back. Her classmates faces are full of curiosity and fear—eyes wide, lips parted in silent questions.
Karina locks eyes with them, screaming without sound: Remember this. Remember me.
If I don't come back...at least they'll know something happened. Maybe that'll be enough to use as an excuse to keep me from failing.
Swallowing hard, she nods at the man, accepting her fate.
"I'll just get my things."
The man didn't even look at her as she head to her table and grabs her things.
Karina glances at Alyn, her friend's face etched with worry.
"I'll be fine. Don't worry." she says, forcing a fake smile.
After collecting her things, she returns to the man.
"Follow me." he spins on his heel. His voice conveys an authoritative tone, making it clear that it is not a request, but rather an order.
Karina folows behind, her eyes drawn to the sleek knot of his jet-black hair, half-pulled into a mini bun that glints under the sun. The style is oddly elegant for someone who moves like a shadow.
When they step out of the school and go into the parking lot, she spots a familiar figure in the distance. An overwhelming wave of relief washes over her.
There he stands—a 5'11 ft tall, tousled dark hair, drowning in a cozy cardigan that clashes with the severity of his black-suited escort.
Benjamin Ortiz—the famous child actor.
"You guys are so cruel! You've kept me waiting forever!" Ben's voice drips with theatrical outrage.
Karina shoots a glance at her own escort. Is this their uniform?
As if sensing her stare, the man arguing with Ben turns. Ben follows his gaze, and his scowl melts into radiant relief.
"Karina!" He runs toward her, clutching his chest. "Thank God! I thought I'd be the only one playing. I was this close to fainting!"
"I was worried too! I thought you guys had betrayed me!" She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at him.
Just then, a soft voice breaks the tension.
"How long have you two been here?"
Karina turns to her side to see the owner of the voice.
It was a girl with short black curls, dressed in a plain black shirt and school pants. She stood just up to Ben's shoulder, her hair swaying as she tilted her head.
Brittany Jeane Toledo, who dreams of becoming a civil engineer, smiles calmly, accompanied by another man in a black suit.
"Long enough to start questioning your loyalties," Karina replies, still crossing her arms.
Brittany's eyes sparkle with mischief. "You sure it's not just you two being dramatic? We all signed up for this, right? Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now?"
Karina exchanges glances with Ben, whose eyebrow arches.
"Cold feet? Me? That'd be the end of the world..." Ben glares at the man he'd been arguing with. "It's their fault for being late! It's school day, and they're only doing this now? What a joke" He taps his forehead, as if to calm himself.
Karina glances at Brittany, who struggles to hold back her laughter.
While Ben and Brittany tease each other, Karina keeps looking at the gate, as if she's waiting for someone.
"Sy and Jerm haven't shown up yet." she says, scanning the area as if they'd spring up like mushrooms.
Ben chuckles. "I bet they're just planning a grand entrance."
Brittany grins. "How much will you bet? I'm sure it'll be something dramatic."
As they were laughing about the thought of their friends—Jeremiah and Sybiel's—grand entrance, a chilling voice interrupts them.
"What and whose entrance are you talking about?"
A figure in a black hoodie, cap pulled low, and thick round glasses obscuring her eyes. Her baggy pants make her seem smaller. Even without seeing her face, they already know this person.
Sybiel Mei Vargas, ever-glued to her laptop and shielded by her signature glasses.
Typical Sybiel fashion, Karina thinks.
"Wow, Sy, are you that afraid of getting tan?" Ben teases, grinning. "At this rate, you might as well replace all the vampires."
Sybiel tilts her head, shooting him a glare. "If I do become a vampire, it's the sun who'll be afraid of me," she fires back.
Another voice cuts in, laced with dry humor.
"Sy, your outfit is still lacking—I can feel the snow."
A boy with curtain-styled black hair steps forward, dressed in a white long-sleeve polo tucked into black slacks, topped with a black trench coat.
Jeremiah Angeles, heir to a wealthy company.
"Coming from you? "Sybiel responds, raking her eyes from his face down to his shoes. Her tone drips sarcasm.
Jeremiah yanks off her cap, revealing Sybiel's waist-length, jet-black hair. Defeated, she removes her glasses, exposing her amber-brown eyes. The others—Karina, Brittany, Benjamin, and Jeremiah—burst into laughter.
"You'll never get a boyfriend like that," Jeremiah quips, then flicked her forehead.
Sybiel's jaw twitches. "I don't care. Lights hurts." she says listlessly.
Suddenly, a deep voice calls out:
"Karina. It's time."
Karina turns to see who it is—her escort.
She looks at her friends, and they're all grinning like madmen. They exchange glances, a silent understanding passing between them, then they enter their certain vehicles.
Months of silence after submitting those forms, and now—during the first month—the so-called 'game' finally activates.
Karina's jaw tightens.
If this ruins their graduation, someone's going to pay. And it won't be them.
A thought slips in Karina's head. I hope this time it would be fun.
Because every suggestion they've experienced that came from Ben's so called invitationsalways lead to trouble. Without fail.
Karina shuts the van's door. It doesnt have any passenger, the driver were the only one present inside. She glances around, unease prickling the back of her neck. The air was too still, too quiet. As she sat behind her escort, he pressed a button, and the engine roared to life—a sound that should have been familiar, but now felt like a predator's growl.
Then she smelled something. A strange, syrupy sweetness seeped into the van, curling through the air like smoke. At first, it was almost pleasant—cloying, like overripe fruit. But then her lungs tightened.
Karina's heart lurched. It's gas.
She slammed the door—locked. Slammed her fists against the windows—no use. The fog thickened, swirling around her in lazy tendrils. Her muscles turned to lead, her limbs sinking into the seat as if the van itself were pulling her under.
"No—" her voice slurred, the word thick and slow.
Her vision blurred at the edges, shadows stretching like taffy. The world tilted, the van's interior melting into a haze of shapes and muted light. She fought to keep her eyes open, but her eyelids were heavy, dragging her down.
The last thing she felt was the cold press of the seat against her cheek.
"Player secured," her escort says while looking at her and holding a phone.
The world dissolves into blackness, but not before the terrible understanding takes hold. This was never a normal game.
Damn you and your so called games, Ben.
As consciousness fades, one truth echoes in Karina's consciousness:
We were never the players.
We were always the prey.
---