Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Through the branches and leaves, I make out the dragging of a golf club on the ground before Orange Mask comes into view.
Six goes to punch him, and Orange Mask not only ducks, but he also hits him across the face with the club.
I slam my hands to my mouth to keep from shrieking as blood explodes from beneath Six’s mask and he falls to the ground with a thud. My legs tremble and I crouch between the bushes, watching the scene through the small gaps.
Five and Seven run in different directions and Orange Mask throws his golf club at the back of Five’s head, slamming him against the tree, then runs after Seven. His movements are sure, oozing with a frightening amount of control.
And power.
There’s so much power in every motion. Every action. Every sliver of decision he makes.
He didn’t even wait for his club to hit Five. He knew it would, and it did, as evidenced by the participant’s motionless body on the ground.
Something tells me he chose to run after Seven for a reason, and curiosity gnaws at my insides to find out what that reason is.
But I don’t.
Because that would mean following after them and surely getting myself eliminated.
Curiosity is the work of the devil and his minion demons in order to make us irrational.
The speaker says numbers six and five are eliminated, and I wait for number seven, but it doesn’t come.
Maybe he managed to escape. Go for it, random American lad.
Point is, I’m safe for now.
Slowly, I rise to my full height, cautiously studying my surroundings.
This time, I touch my wig, pushing it in place, and ignore the tingles in my sweaty skull as I tap my mask a few times to make sure it’s there.
The sound of several sets of footsteps reaches my sensitive ears and I crouch back down as four participants run across a clearing. Orange Mask heads toward them with Red Mask following. They send them flying in no time, and their unconscious bodies fall to the ground.
I cover my mouth with my hand again, nails digging into the mask’s plastic material and scratching at its surface.
Blimey.
This is a lot more gruesome than I could’ve ever imagined. Yes, I’ve heard the rumors about how cutthroat the Heathens can be and how they never hold back, but witnessing them actually hitting and punching is a completely different story.
It’s not only the image of exploding blood, of hard punches against faces and bodies, or that they’ve broken a few people along the way. It’s not only the Halloween-esque visual of heartless neon masks hunting people as if they’re animals.
It’s also the sound of it. The thwacks, whips, punches, and thuds of bodies falling inert to the ground.
It’s the muffled screams, the wails, and the begging of some of the participants.
One of them said, “I’m out. Please spare me this once—”
Before his head was shoved against a tree.
The two Heathens barely acknowledge each other with a look before each goes in a different direction.
Red Mask disappears through the trees and I contemplate the best way to do that without alerting Orange Mask.
You know what? Might as well wait until he leaves before I even move.
Despite the pain that screams at my limbs or my shaking legs, I remain in a crouching position, unmoving, scared to breathe properly.
Orange Mask leans down by Five, then grabs his club. Something liquid smudges his black leather gloves and drips on the ground in bright red.
Blood red.
How can they be so…monstrous at such a young age? But then again, they’ve probably been this way since they were born, considering the world they belong to.
I’ve never liked these types of people, those who hurt just because they have the power to.
Those who ruin entire families just because they can.
Morally corrupt people.
Machiavellians with no limits or morals.
The Heathens are at the top of that list with their skewed codes of conduct and hedonistic mindsets.
Orange Mask rises to his impressive height that nearly eats up the horizon, then slowly, too slowly, his head tilts in my direction.
The neon stitches glow in the near darkness as eerie silence stakes its claim.
My spine jerks when his rough, deep voice echoes in the air. “I know you’re hiding. Come out and I promise not to hurt you. Much.”
2
CECILY
I stop breathing for a second.
It can’t be.
There’s no way in hell he’s seen me. Not only did I not make a sound, but I’m also invisible.
Unless he has access to the surveillance cameras.
No. I don’t see anything in his ears, so he can’t possibly communicate with security.
So how the hell did he figure out I was here?
I cast a slow look at my surroundings to confirm he just spoke to me and not someone else near me.
A number is announced to be eliminated, echoing in the silence like doom. An involuntary jerk lifts my shoulder, but I remain in place, watching.