"Hey, Niko, where are you? I'm not good at moving around in the dark. We've gotta get out of here; this guy's insane," Carl said.

I stop, standing perfectly still where I am. The moment I saw his face illuminated by the fire, I understood two things. One, I'm not going to be able to solve this problem diplomatically. Two: Carl is bigger than me, not injured, and he knows it. I don't want to hurt anyone. I've never even been in a fight before. His voice came from the same place we fell, so he probably hasn't moved yet. I hold my breath, trying to listen for anything to let me know if he's coming for me. I'm scared. Scared that this guy is going to try and kill me. I don't want to do this. Maybe he's as scared as I am. Against the anxious feeling in my stomach, I give peace a chance.

"I'm over here, Carl. You're right that he's crazy. What kind of monster thinks he can make strangers kill each other? I'm not going to kill someone just because some guy says so," I said.

The quiet that follows seems as all-encompassing as the darkness around us. Carl's lack of response is worrying me. My ears are strained in an attempt to hear anything. My heart's beating a million times a minute, and I feel sick. Am I a sitting duck? Carl doesn't seem like the sneaky type, but you never know what someone can be capable of. Can I do it if I'm forced to? A sudden hissing sound is the only warning I get before the flames erupt from the walls. He's got that look again. The look of someone who will do whatever it takes.

The fires aren't at full force, but they're steadily growing. At this rate, I'm going to have to get closer to him. Carl's just standing there, waiting, knowing I have to come to him if I don't want to get burned. It's getting hotter and hotter in here. I can feel myself starting to sweat, so Carl should be too. I feel my left arm start to get too warm to be comfortable, like holding your hand too close to a campfire. One step at a time until there's less than ten feet between us.

"We don't have to do this, Carl."

"Yes, we do. I don't know about you, and I don't care, but I have people at home waiting for me. If only one of us gets to leave, then it's gonna be me," he said, shutting down any hope I had that we agreed on our options.

"So do I. But that's why I don't want to hurt anyone. My parents would be disappointed in me if I resorted to violence. We don't have to do this; we can just wait for the gas to run out," I pleaded.

The encroaching fire pushes me forward again. The flames are so hot I can feel them through my shirt and hoodie. My skin is dry, my mouth is dry, and I'm not sweating anymore. Why are you so quick to give in to these people, Carl? The roar of the fire is so loud.

"And what if we can't?" He asked, half yelling.

"Then we'll figure out a different plan. There's got to be another way out of this. If we put our heads together, we can come up with some ideas. We don't have to fucking kill each other," I shouted over the noise.

Carl says something, but I don't hear it.

"What? WHAT? What did you say?"

"I SAID WHAT IF YOU'RE WRONG?"

What if I'm wrong?

"Wrong about what?" I yelled over the burning fire.

Carl takes several steps toward me, closing the distance to less than six feet. Sweat is pouring out of him, his red hair is slick and stuck to his face. His eyes are shaking with intensity, staring at me like I'm the enemy, like I'm the reason we're here. My brain is screaming warning signals at me; my instinct is to step away from Carl. But that will make it even more difficult to convince him. The smell of burning gas, combined with the heat, is making each inhale sting.

"What if you're wrong about there being another way? My dad is a detective, and I've picked up some of his tricks. Think, Niko. This isn't the type of setup of someone who doesn't consider all angles. They have surveillance equipment, able to see what we're doing at all times, but I don't see any cameras. They said only six survive, so even on the low end, that means there were probably twelve of us originally. Twelve people abducted, transported, and then set up in a deadly game for amusement isn't something you do on a whim. So why haven't we ever heard of anything like this before? What are they doing with the bodies?" Carl questioned, and each one felt like a cut to the rope holding my hopes.

"That doesn't mean that we can't wait them out. If there are two other rooms this size also hooked up with these flamethrowers, they will eventually run out of gas," I argued.

"You're forgetting a very crucial detail: air. It's been getting harder to breathe in here because the fires are burning out all the oxygen in the room. Dude, are you even paying attention in your science classes? I'm not betting my life on the hope that they have a limited gas supply," Carl said.

Damn it. I didn't consider that at all. Is he right? Is there really no other way to get out of here without hurting him, without killing him? Carl seems to have made up his mind and won't change it. But is he really capable of murdering me? Carl continues advancing toward me, and my body is paralyzed. This whole thing doesn't feel real to me. I'm frozen in place despite the distance between us continually shrinking. He's joking, bluffing. He's not gonna hurt me.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

Carl's right in front of me, looking down at me, and his face isn't happy or sad or angry. It's acceptance, like when we vent to visit Grandma in the hospital. Mom told me it was the last time we'd see her, and I was too young to understand why. She'd been in there for months by that point, and my mom and dad had already cried all the tears they could. When I did ask them about it, my dad told me they knew Grandma wouldn't survive the year and that they had already mourned her. That they owed it to her not to make their last meeting a sad one. Does my face resemble theirs? Have I just accepted my own death? Move. Move. Move. MOVE!

He throws an awkward-looking punch; clearly, he hasn't been in a fight before either. Still, his fist connects with the center of my face, and it hurts so freaking much. My eyes water as tears well up. Stumbling backward slightly, I don't even think he hit me as hard as he could. The flames nip at my back like playful bites from a puppy, and I'm scared. Scared of getting burned, scared of never seeing my family again, and scared of dying here. Carl rushes me, shoving me with as much force as he's able to. I don't stumble; he launches me into the jets of fire. I panic as the flames scorch me, igniting my clothes. Rolling around doesn't help at all; nothing helps. It's agonizing as I feel every inch of my body being cooked and charred. I can't even scream out as the air is burned out of my lungs. NO. I DON'T WANT TO DIE. I DON'T WANT TO DIE. I DON'T WANT TO DIE.

I hear a sound like glass shattering within my head as I experience an insane headache. The feelings of the flames enveloping me stop suddenly. Am I dead? My eyes open, and I see something impossible. Floating in the air, I can see myself below me, frozen while I'm thrashing around as fire consumes me. My clothes are melted to my body, and the sight of it is disgusting. I'm dying, and being forced to watch myself die. I see white out of the corner of my eye. A blinding white void is spreading across the room until there's nothing left. The headache ramps up, getting more painful than anything I've ever felt in my life. It builds to the point where I feel like my brain is melting.

A breaking sound echoes inside my head as the sensations of being roasted alive come back. New information is inside my head, I'm full of adrenaline, and I have a way forward. My lips and eyelids are gone, and I can't feel anything in my limbs. Like a wild beast, I crawl out of the inferno on all fours. Carl's back is turned to me, and I leap at him. My tackle sends him falling face-first to the ground, and I climb on top of him. He might be talking, but I can't hear anything. I grab his curly hair and smash his face against the hot metal floor. Lifting his head back, I slam it again and again. Every ounce of focus is on the task in front of me. Blood is pooling beneath us, but I don't stop until the flamethrowers shut off and the lights turn on. The knowledge of what I must do is sickening. I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I don't want to die even more. I've never been in a fight before today, I've never harmed someone before today, I've never taken a life before today, and I've never eaten a person before today.

I passed out after consuming chunks of him. I can't even bring myself to say his name. Flashes of his caved-in face haunt me. The texture of his neck and shoulder, the taste of pennies lingers on my tongue. The memory of biting, gnawing, tearing, and swallowing won't leave my brain. The chewed-on corpse is in the corner of the pool. I couldn't stand to look at what I'd done anymore. I don't know how long it's been, but the doors still haven't unlocked, and the voice hasn't returned. My lips are back, my eyelids as well. My throat is still pretty fucked up, but it doesn't hurt to breathe anymore. My body is melted and charred black; I can't find the motivation to do what needs to be done.

I killed someone. I beat him to death and ate him. I'm a fucking cannibal. How can I possibly face my family? Tears stream down my face, the salt irritating the raw, exposed flesh. The pain is what I deserve. There is nothing I can do to undo the crimes I've committed. No amount of prayers or apologies would ever make this right. I'm a monster who doesn't deserve to live.

"AND WITH THAT, WE'RE DOWN TO OUR THREE WINNERS! THE THREE LUCKY SOULS WHO HAVE GRANTED ADMITTANCE TO THE CARNIVAL! WELCOME TO THE GREATEST PLACE ON EARTH," the man shouted over the speakers.

A poisonous, caustic hate bubbles in my stomach, my sad thoughts still, and it's like there's lava in my veins. There may not be a way to make things right, but there is a way to make things even. I will enter the Carnival, round up everyone responsible, and rip the still beating hearts out of their chests. Once that's done, then I can die. The road to vengeance will be long, and I'm going to need to use every single aspect of my powers. Eating people heals me and makes me stronger, faster. It also instinctively lets me know just how much of a person I need to consume. I look over at the fresh, dead body in the corner of the pool's deep end. I need to be at my best; I can't win if I'm like this. I'll need the strength of two men.

Dragging the corpse over to the shallower end, I plop down and undress him. His sweatpants are too big, but I can use the waist cord to tighten them on myself. His oversized blue shirt is covered in blood, but it will do. He deserves his dignity, so I leave the rest of his clothes undisturbed. The one boot he has on almost makes me laugh as I think about how poorly our plan went. But I don't laugh, I don't even chuckle. My bottom lip bleeds from me biting down on it so hard. Then, I begin the gruesome task of using the previous bite wounds I inflicted on him to get to the meat below. He's chewy and doesn't taste good. The urge to vomit is strong, but I don't. I chew quickly and swallow the pieces. I will not dishonor him twice. The urge to close my eyes, to shut them tightly and imagine I'm not eating a person, is strong, but I don't. I keep my eyes peeled, forcing myself to watch what I'm doing. I will not disrespect the dead.

By the time I've eaten enough, my entire body is tingling as it regenerates. Skin growing and wrapping around exposed muscle, fingernails emerging from beneath my cuticles, hair sprouting from the top of my scalp. The wall that is to the left of where I came in hisses. A rectangular outline on the wall lights up as the part of the wall inside the outline retracts. I can't see inside from where I am. A rope ladder falls from the ceiling above the deep end. Smoothing down my clothes, I make my way over and climb up it the hole. A small, well-lit hallway is behind it, with a white door visible at the end. There's a symbol on the door, one I've never seen before. In the center of it, contrasting the white, are four black lines that form a box. In the center of it is an icon that I think is meant to be a Ferris wheel. That must be the symbol of the Carnival.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.