As my brain becomes alert, I’m aware of the unpleasant pounding in my skull and the disgusting feeling of cottonmouth. I slowly sit up and try to move my tongue around hoping to get some saliva to appear and revive the dry state of my mouth that could give the Sahara a run for its money. While trying to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth I take in the lavish room I have woken up in. It’s even more exquisite than my room last year. Deep red satin king-size bed with a gold ornate bed frame. Royal blue walls with deeper blue velvet curtains. Opulent seating and an open closet, stunning silver-grey walls with gold detailing that compliment that stunning gold ornamental ceiling with expertly detailed cornices. I guess this is the treatment winners get. Works for me. I notice a glass of water by the bed and two pills, as expected. Same routine every year. Drugs to knock you out and then drugs to help with the after-effects. I quickly down the pills with the water and get up stret

I just finished my lunch, and as I place the tray on the bedside table there’s a knock at the door. I open it to find a box placed in front of my door. There’s no note or instructions, so guess they think I’m seasoned enough to not need it. I take the box inside, place it on the bed and open it to find a full lycra spandex bodysuit with my codename printed on the back. The traditional uniform of The Tournament. Every competitor is required to wear these. We are completely covered from head to toe, concealing our identities from spectators. The only part of us that is visible are our eyes, and that’s only so we can see what we’re doing. I strip down to my bra and panties, tie my hair up in a bun and slip into the bodysuit. Once I have it pulled over my head, I reach behind me and zip myself in. I’ve considered investing in one of these for some of my jobs, but I just hate the way my head is covered, and I wouldn’t mind a pair of shoes. If you’re not used to it, this can be rather suffo

Never have I been so grateful for all my parent's tedious training sessions. As quick as I can, I take the grip of the gun, feel for the hammer along the top, and push it flat as I slide the square peg into the square hole as the muzzle softly clicks into place. I then slide the bolt back in and while I hold the bolt in place, I slide the pin back up until it clicks into the bolt. Now comes the tricky part, and boy am I glad I had my dad teach me this. Before I completely lock the pin back into the grip, I face the gun upwards, load the magazine in, hold the trigger down and then push the rest of the lever of the pin up into the grip. I then release the trigger, drop the magazine, and click the lever fully into place. I release the bolt and it snaps right back into place. Now with the gun assembled, I load the bullets into the magazine and load it into the gun. The second it’s in and ready to go the blindfold is pulled off of my head using the fishing wire. I take the gun and point a

Time is ticking down fast, and so far the only thing that’s been accomplished is the thinning of the herd. With everyone too afraid to move, I can’t wait around to use them as pawns, so I have to start moving around myself. I walk over to the staircase and slowly make my way up the stairs being cautious of each step as I go up. “Where do you think you’re going?” Whiro hisses. “Narnia,” I say curtly. I hate stupid questions. Once I make it to the top of the stairs with my only injury being the still throbbing gashes in my hands, I make my way carefully down the hallway. The ominous sound of thunder and flashes of lightning while certainly set the mood, do nothing for my nerves. As I approach each door, I press myself against the wall and reach to the side to open the door just in case some axe or something wants to come and split me in two. The first two rooms seem pretty benign, which I’m sure means death lurks in every cranny, but I’m still not seeing a way out yet. I come to the

If it weren’t for the painkillers I wouldn’t have slept a wink last night. As good as I am at blocking out pain, it’s a little difficult to do when you continue to move and use the parts of you that are injured. Even eating dinner last night hurt like a bitch. I’ve gotten lucky that these are the worst injuries I have sustained so far, but I have a strong feeling my luck is about to run out. I’m dressed in yet another bodysuit, covered head to toe and waiting to be escorted to the arena. I kill time by fantasizing all the ways I could try and escape but even in my fantasies, each attempt ends in my death. It is an effective way out of The Tournament, but not one I’m particularly keen on. When I hear the familiar knock at the door, I get up, shake off the thoughts and get myself in the zone. I focus on my breathing and heart rate as I’m escorted to the competitor's lounge instead of solitary. I take a seat and wait as one by one the other eight competitors arrive. I’m grateful for th