)It had been a long and tiring journey from the large open field from which he had came, but now, Ryan slowly stumbled upon a small house. Others had been here previously, that much was certain from the damage that the place had apparently received. Despite that, it looked pretty much abandoned right about now. It would be a good place for Ryan to sit down and think. Pushing through the debris that had been scattered all over the place by what he could only assume were the other inhabitants of the island, Ryan forced his way through the house and reluctantly flopped down in the corner of a room, dropping his duffle bag right beside him. Being from Barry Coleson High School, he had already heard the gist of what this SOTF ACT consisted of.
What do I do? What can I do? At this point, I don't have many options. Could I... could I really team up with the others on this island? No. Can't. They're all cold-blooded murderers. All of them. They've killed fifty people. FIFTY! They'll kill me, just like they killed everyone else. I can't trust any of them. Couldn't trust any of them in school either. They all hated me. I don't know why they hated me... what did I ever do to them? I was nice to them, helped them with their homework. They were all just jealous of me. Jealous because... because I was going to be a doctor and they weren't smart enough. I guess that's all out the window now.
Sighing loudly, he stretched out one leg and pulled his other close to him, then rested his head on it. This was a bad situation. Ryan found himself wishing that things had been different in high school, that he had been popular. He pushed his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose, they had nearly fallen off when he was running through the field. Under normal circumstances, he would not have dared to wear them in public, but he had had a bad headache on the morning of the trip. They made him look like an intellectual... at least, that is what his mother always told him. They were not particularly nerdy-looking. They were small and square, with a thin black wire frame. Still, Ryan did not like them.
He shook his head. What did he think he was doing? He had a very high risk of dying here, and he was worried about his glasses. Dying... it was almost a surreal possibility. Had Ryan not heard the announcement for himself, he would not have believed that kids from his own high school were capable of such slaughter. He did not recognize some of the names on the list that had been read off. There were other kids on the island, too. Ryan silently wondered if they were cold-blooded murderers like the Barry Coleson kids were. Probably so. There was no telling how long they had all been out here. They had all probably killed other people. Except him. Ryan was almost convinced that he was the only sane person on this island.
Sighing again, Ryan tried to shake all the bad thoughts from his head. The way he looked at it, there were only three options now. He could hope he had been given a good weapon and play the game, he could try to escape and save himself, or... he could end it all right here and now. Ryan shuddered lightly at the thought of suicide. None of his three choices seemed like very good options. Sitting there in the floor, alone in the solitary little house, he began to weigh his options against one another. What would be the best one? He could play the game, but that was given that he had a decent weapon. What if they had given him something like a butter knife? Somehow, he could see the terrorists doing that, just to laugh at his own destruction. If he had a good weapon, though, he could play. Could he really bring himself to be a cold-blooded murderer? It seemed as if many of the kids on the island already had.
If he played, would he really be any better than them? Ryan understood that the other kids on the island wanted to live, but... he had more potential than probably anyone else on this island. He was the one who was taking college classes as a sophomore in high school. He was probably one of the few people on this island that could act as a field medic out here. In fact, he was probably one of the few kids at Barry Coleson High School who had planned on being a doctor. In Ryan's eyes, none of the other kids here could have possibly had any worthwhile purpose for killing one another. Everyone wanted to live, but what did they have that was so important to go back to? Family? Friends? Perhaps someone in a relationship. Everyone had those things, it did not justify killing other students. However, Ryan would be justified. Ryan had something special to go back to... he had a life, a career... not just trivial little things high school kids wanted to survive for, but real, tangible things.
Even so... to take someone's life in cold blood. Even to protect your own. Could he really do such a horrible thing? Even if he went through with it, even if he played the game, what would the end result be? If he was even able to go back to his normal life, how many people would want a doctor who had slaughtered innocent children to save their own skin? Maybe he would play. Sure, there would be reprocussions, but at this point, which option did not have reprocussions? He could deal with the consequences later, much later. Then again, even if he decided to play, the chance that he would actually get the final kill and win this "game" was slim to nil.
Option number two was trying to escape the island. Surely, some of the other kids here were trying to escape. Even so, could he trust the other kids? Probably not. And... the larger the group, the less chance there was of escaping. Not to mention, apparently this entire "game" was being broadcast to the entire American nation. Any escape plan would be painfully obvious to everyone, terrorists included. Ryan was sure they would sit back and laugh at any pathetic attempt he made to leave the island. What if he actually found a way out, though? Well, he supposed the answer was obvious... they would kill him.
Option number three was probably the worst one of all. Ryan's hand traced back up to his neck, and his fingers delicately circled around the metallic object that enwrapped his neck. Option three was death. It seemed all options lead to death, but if he killed himself now, he would not have to face the pain, the agony, the betrayal... all the things that had been set up for him. Thing was, if he ended it now, if he jerked off the collar and allowed it to explode, he would be gone. Forever. There would be no chance then. None at all. He would not have to play the game, but his own untimely demise was ensured. Absent-mindedly, Ryan continued to finger the metallic collar.
There really were no good options in this game. Everything had a consequence, and a giant spiral of death seemed to consume this island. Kill or be killed. That was the name of the game. Either way, you were going to be responsible for at least one death... be it that of another or that of yourself. He could jerk the collar off and end it now. It was a simple process. Silently, Ryan wondered to himself just how big of an explosion it would make. If he set it off, would it kill others around him, or just himself? Somehow, he did not wish to find out at present.
I don't want to die. I don't want to die now. I don't want to die ever. All these people... they have nothing to live for. Their lives were meaningless back at Barry Coleson. I was the one who was going to be something big, not them. I can't let my dreams be shattered. I just can't. So... if that means that I'll have to become just like them... murder innocent people in cold blood... then maybe... maybe that's what I'll do.
Finally, Ryan's hand dropped to his side, away from the collar. He was not going to kill himself. But... maybe later on, maybe if he knew there was no way that he was going to win... maybe that would be the best option. He could not think about that now. Now, he would have to lose all humanity for the duration of this game. If he really wanted to win... if he wanted to go back to whatever sense of normalcy was left... he would have to play.
God dammit! Why does it have to be like this?! Why!
Before he knew what he was doing, he felt a burning sensation in his fist as it pounded against the wall of the house. Ryan got up in kicked the wall in a fit of anger. There was nothing he could do. He had resigned himself to his fate. He would either kill, or he would be killed. He sighed loudly and picked up his duffle bag. What should he do now? His footsteps echoed against the wooden floor as he paced back and forth, deliberating on his next move.
I'm so sorry mom. You were right. You were right about everything. I should've just stayed home. And now... now I might never be coming back. I... I hope if that happens, you'll be able to go on without me. I hope you'll be able to accept what I'm going to do here. There's no other way.
