Starla.

I sat in the auditorium, clutching some rosary beads that came from Mrs. Greenwich, my science teacher. God, if you’re up there, I am in dire need of divine intervention, I prayed silently to myself. How was I even supposed to facilitate the ornate wooden beads? Was there a certain way to hold them? It didn’t matter, I’m pretty sure that the God above was not concerned with any prayers coming from someone who didn’t necessarily believe one-hundred percent.

The seven people on the stage were huddled, the cries of my fellow classmates hushed and reserved. My cheeks remained dry, in fear of showing fear. There was no use in crying, yet, no one had perished, nothing had happened. In fact, there were merely fifty of us crowding the first rows.

A member of the armor clad group disbanded from the seven. He prodded the tip of the microphone as if he were to say something important. I simply tried to focus on anything but the man’s large assault rifle he held almost as a child would be cuddled in a mother’s arms. “May I have your attention?” he asked, actually cordially considering the pretenses.

Everyone silenced, except for the racing hearts of anticipation. We all assumed the role of deer, innocent does in the headlights of the tank these people prowled the streets in, all fifty of us stared at what was to come from the man’s mouth. He had blue eyes, the kind that pierced painfully. His jaw was set in an honorable position, stoic almost, like he belonged to royalty. “Everyone in this room was called today at six in the morning,” the man informed.

What call at six in the morning? My eyes rapidly blinked to process the announcement; there was no call for me. Mrs. Greenwich’s neck turned and glued to my figure. I was here to retake a test for her, nothing more, nothing less. “… But that is beside the matter,” the man dismissed, an evil smirk highlighting his face.

My palms perspired, should I have raised my hand? Would I have been able to exit and leave without any harm done? Help, that’s the word that crossed my mind, if I left I could go find help. “There are exactly forty eight of you in here, perfect for the game we’re about to play,” his sadistic charm wasn’t winning any of us over.

“The game will last twelve hours, you will have exactly fifteen minutes to hide anywhere in the building,” he proposed, trying to keep the room dead silence with his glares. It was working. “After that, the seven of us,” his hand gestured to his conspiring camaraderie lingering in the shadows of the stage, “… Will have forty five minutes to hunt all of you down, we will kill four every hour, no exceptions,” he murmured. I shuddered, in twelve hours; everyone in this room would be dead. At exactly eight this evening, everyone around me, and my own body without my soul filling it would be lifeless on the floor. My eyes scanned the crowd.

Sitting on the back row, I couldn’t make out the back of heads. There was only one alone I could pick out. My mouth figuratively dropped, restraining the actual action in order to divert attention away from myself, Marie.

Her wavy black hair fell on her shoulders, not longer than an inch after that. Breathing, she was breathing, at least for now. Now was all we had, me and my best friend, my mejor amiga. Tears did not flow into my eyes as they should have; I was not going to witness my friend dying at the hands of these people. Even if it meant abandoning her, hiding in the most concealed spot until the game was complete; I vow I will do it. “The intercom system will tell you when to come back to the auditorium.
Game starts in five minutes,” the man in charge broadcasted, leaving the podium.

Chatter aroused in the seats, people began hugging each other, gripping life in their arms that would no longer be there. Marie cupped her hand and whispered into a male’s ear. During this, her eyes made contact with mine, making the vows I held within myself irrelevant. They were broken as of the moment. “Starla!” Marie relayed as loudly as she dared.

I waved silently, asserting a false façade of grave silence. Marie’s eyes and smile were unfitting, she didn’t have the emotions a person up for slaughter should have had slathered all over her face. Somehow, she held the appearance of contentment in the face of twisted, wicked games. “Marie,” I hushed, trying to keep the fact we knew each other a private matter. There was no shame, just a precaution I took.

“God, Starla,” she shook her head. For a minute I thought she was going to say, “I’m glad you’re here,” but then she realized I’d probably kill her. “Oh my God, Starla,” Marie dramatically repeated. There was not anything else to mention. It wasn’t like we could sit and talk about makeup, what we did this weekend, or how hot ‘x’ is and how he is dating ‘y.’ “I mean, I know I’m not the best person in the world, but what did we do?” Marie queried, not shedding a solitary tear though I’m sure I would have.

I did not want to tell her that I was here by mistake; there was no need to pity my carelessness. There was no need to pity at all. We’d all die someday, and now, at least we’d die as mere victims of unfortunate fate. It might be sick, but if I have to die, I want to leave a legacy. “I don’t want to know,” I confided in the girl sitting only two rows in front of me.

Marie nodded, not in mutual understanding, but in understanding nonetheless. The clock notched forward, reminding us of the dawn of evil. Mrs. Greenwich held her rosary beads tighter, and I threw the borrowed ones around my neck. There was no time to adopt a new belief system, but at least I’d show the God above that I hoped he had my back going into this.

“Our father, who art in heaven,” Greenwich proclaimed, loudly reciting what I believed to be the Lord ’s Prayer. Others didn’t seem to notice it, or they ignored it in the midst of their own troubles. That was the final line she recited though, before stopping to stare into a tear clouded space, something I couldn’t bear to watch any longer. I zoned out. What was my plan?

This school was three stories consisting of two upper levels and an extensive basement. The auditorium was placed on the side of the building stretching over two stories high, this made anything near this half of the school building a terrible place to hide. My fingers drummed on my lap, there was a shop in the East corner of the mildew ridden basement. There were weapons there. Though they’d be useless against the artillery the perpetrators possessed, they were weapons. I may want to go down with a legacy, but I don’t want the legacy of a coward.

So the shop class, that was my plan. I hoped Marie was actually thinking this through, not winging it as if the situation was an essay on a topic she loathed. Part of me wanted to tell Marie to meet me down there, that was the naïve part of me that needed to not make itself present. The logics told me to go alone. Not an honorable notion, but not a foolish one in the slightest. My eyes glanced at the clock, we were nearing two minutes until we were to all be sent into the school, all sentenced to die.

Greenwich clasped onto those plastic beads, jumping from her seat. Everyone went silence and the fourteen eyes controlling the game stared at her. Something told me this motion was something to pay attention to, especially since it was so sporadic. One minute, I observed, wanting this woman to spit it out already. “I volunteer myself to go first,” Greenwich spoke evenly, not to slightest quiver or quake in her speech.

The seven looked at each other, one girl with cropped black hair shrugging her shoulders. She aimed her gun straight into the crowd. Diving to the floor, the loud bang of the discharge of a bullet sent shivers down my spine. Liquid splattered on my leg, and it didn’t originate from me. I dared to glower to my calf and see the crimson spewing from her, the body resting on the grey tile, the recently deceased woman that graced my skin.

I never was the type to be squeamish at the sight of blood, but it’s a different story when someone else literally died over top of me. Mrs. Greenwich would leave a legacy; word would have to get out somehow. “Everyone, game’s begun!” the solitary black haired girl yelled, pointing to the clock. Picking myself up, I clambered to my feet and tried to avoid being trampled by the crowd sprinting towards the door. Marie was ahead of the pack, the boy she was talking to behind me, ascending the small incline of the auditorium. He was taking his time, watching two similar pacing people straddling the sides of the crowd. They were interesting, like they had a plan already devised.

Who expects these sorts of things? I get freaked out by a surprise party. Once exiting the double doors, I witnessed the horde going for the east side basement. The shop class I planned on inhabiting was out of the question. Taking off in a deviating direction, I sped down the stairs two at a time. The world zipped around me and everything became interesting, each grain in the walls, every dust mote around, they were all distractions. Focusing myself back on the moment, I witnessed the lip locking of a couple. They kissed with such passion because they both shared the understanding that they would not likely experience another. Instead of finding someone to kiss, I surged forward, taking a left towards the cafeteria.

Besides the emptiness striking itself odd to me, the melodic humming of music coming from a radio in the actual kitchen struck me as painfully odd. I tiptoed into the culinary center, the eeriness of early morning sun barely coating the walls in shades of various blues; anything could lurk in the shadows. I was merely one part of the whole. Metal tables lay idly, cleaned for whatever was supposed to be served tomorrow. There was a phone and my heart leapt. Reaching for the taupe, aged, corded device, the wire that connected it to the outside world had not only been cut, which would’ve been sufficient. My fingers ran over the bristly copper wire, the strands had been burned, singed; they were definitely rendered useless now.

Without any sort of afterthought, I put the phone back onto the hook in order to eliminate evidence. That’s where I ran across the pantries lining the wall, closets far away from my eye’s perception. Snuggling into a wooden one, I closed the door behind me and began breathing steadily, trying to keep track of the time. It was apparently my last day on Earth and I had nothing better to do than hide in a closet. Well, my mom always said life would take me places.

Footsteps echoed in the cafeteria as I counted to two thousand. Every instinct that comprised my fear told me to scream, to tip off the others and die somewhat honorably. But as the footsteps drew closer, I knew they weren’t the gunman but teenagers, the gunman wore similar heeled boots. On the tile, there would be a resonating sound. These rubber soled shoes of what I guessed to be four people made little or no noise.“Yeah, Calliope and Brutus have decided to get out of the clouds,” a husky, male voice mocked.

I remained quiet as they rustled through drawers, utensils clattering. “We have competition,” a shrilling, low female commented. Alliances were forming? We had to compete with each other now? The world became less and less humane as I yearned for someone to tell me it was all a joke. Yet, my bloody calf reminded me it was all too real.

“Shouldn’t we all band together?” another voice I knew asked the others. That was Toby, I do believe. Toby was someone I’d call my friend, we talked fairly regularly, and we would occasionally meet up with Marie someplace and have capital times. What was Toby doing with these mongrels?

“That’s cute, Toe-Toe,” the female swooned as the other males laughed. Toby remained silent. It wasn’t the time to spring from my hiding place, but if I could, I would. Morality would have to be spared for the moment. “Starla was standing next to Greenwich, right?” the female pondered aloud.

My heart stopped. This person knew me and I didn’t. For some reason, they were fishing around the kitchen for knives while the conversation was brought up. Was it not enough that other people were trying to kill me, all of us? Did these four people, lurking in the various blue shadows of morning purity; did they feel compelled to kill in spite of their own demises? I couldn’t fathom it, and I didn’t want to for the sake of my own humanity. “Oh, a blood trail was left around the theater,” the original male who spoke about the alliances cleared his throat gleefully.

They all departed, their soles squeaking with the tiniest bit of stealth. I know that Marie talked with Calliope, they hung out, but that did not mean Marie should have been obligated to join an alliance that made no sense whatsoever. We were all going to die, unless there was some sort of rebellion or meaning of informing the outside. My phone was in my car, in the lot, and I was sure I wasn’t going to get far if I escaped.

Eyes shutting again, I remained utterly alert, but if I had to be in the darkness, I would be there by choice.

And I sensed the world slipping by me, not in the sleeping mannerism, but in a way that reassured me that time would fly by quickly. Whether that made me happy or not was a question I hated to grapple with. In one hand, I could have a fulfilling life, and in the other, I could have a fulfilling life and a stressful end. Both had their perks. Considering I am able to escape the pure terror, I’m pretty sure that philosophy might be something I should look into.

But for now, I’ll clutch to the bloodstained fleece of my jacket and try to fight for this dwindling life.