The Recall Trials
Chapter 31: Everyone’s Losing It I

Chapter 31: Everyone’s Losing It I

The silver-masked man stood there like a statue, hands clasped behind his back. His mask gleamed under the lights, perfectly clean, like it hadn’t just replaced a dead man’s face.

"Spin the revolver," the voice repeated, like a slaughter hadn’t just happened right in front of us.

No one reached for the gun. No one even looked at it.

Then the masked man stepped forward and turned the revolver.

It spun, and stopped. Pointed to the next player.

A girl. Short hair. Mid-twenties. I didn’t know her name...

Her fingers shook as she picked it up.

She didn’t hesitate.

BANG.

Her body snapped back in the chair. Blood sprayed the white table, and her mouth stayed frozen open in that one final breath that never came out.

The sound of her skull cracking echoed through the room. Someone else was muttering "oh God" over and over again.

And yet, the game continued.

One bullet remaining.

The masked man spun the revolver again. This time, slower.

It pointed to a lanky guy.

He picked up the revolver.

And then...

BANG.

The side of his head exploded like it had been punched open from the inside. Blood hit the wall behind him like something you see in art studios. His body slid out of the chair and hit the floor with a dull thud.

Two in a row.

Two.

We were breaking.

Everyone around the table was trembling. Most were crying. Some were frozen in shock. No one looked anyone in the eyes anymore.

We were all trying to disappear.

Not physically...cos no one moved. But it was like every one of us was holding our breath, silently praying that the floor might cave in and swallow us. That maybe if we stayed perfectly still, we could stop existing. Just for a second.

Then.....

Silence.

No gunshots. No spinning. No blood.

Just the low hum of the speakers kicking back to life, followed by the same voice that had just called for death.

"Congratulations, contestants," it said, in the calmest way you can ever imagine. "You’ve survived and made it to the fourth trial. You may now return to your rooms. Enjoy the rest of your day."

That was it.

Like what just happened was some casual announcement. My knees nearly gave out. I was still alive.

Alive.

I didn’t even realize I was shaking until I looked down at my hands....still trembling like they didn’t believe it either.

I wanted to scream. To laugh. To cry. All at once.

I didn’t die.

I made it. I’m still here.

But I said nothing.

The masked guards showed up again. They didn’t need to say a word.....just the sight of them was enough. We got up slowly, like survivors crawling out of the wreckage of a plane crash.

We were just ghosts following shadows down that long hallway.

When we reached the room, it felt colder than before. Just... silence and stale air.

Some people dropped onto their beds immediately. Others slumped against the walls. Someone was crying quietly into their hands. Another person was curled up under the blanket, shaking.

Then someone said it out loud.

"We’re all gonna die."

And just like that, the reality sunk in again.

Someone else started sobbing.

I was trying to do a headcount, don’t ask me why. Maybe I was just desperate to convince myself that we were still... people. Survivors. Not numbers.

"Eighty-seven," I mumbled. "There’s eighty-seven of us."

Two died right at the start, then five during the game, plus that one guy who tried to be a rebel hero and got shot.

Yup. That checks out.

Eighty-seven of us left.

We had all just barely survived a real-life execution game. That person had a point, it’s almost impossible to believe anyone could actually survive this game.

But just when I thought the madness had peaked, someone did the unthinkable.

A dude ...I think his name was Charles or maybe Desmond, brown-skinned, a little stocky, stood up out of nowhere and screamed like a kettle that had boiled too long.

"I’M FUCKING DONE!" he yelled.

Then, I swear to God, the man tore his jumpsuit open like he was about to transform into the Hulk, ripping it like the thing personally offended him...but instead of muscles, it was just skinny limbs and bright yellow boxers with cartoon bananas on them.

Some people chuckled. I did too.

I mean, how could you not?

The guy looked like a deranged superhero with an identity crisis. It was pretty hillarious.

But the laughter died fast.

Because bro wasn’t done.

He grabbed one of the bedside lamps, ripped the cord right out of the wall, and climbed onto the bunk like he was King Kong preparing for battle.

Then....SMASH. He swung the lamp full force at one of the black, domed security cameras in the corner. The glass shattered, wires sparked.

"You want to watch us, right?!" he screamed, pointing the broken lamp like it was Excalibur. "You assholes! Pieces of shit! Sons of bitches!"

Dead silence.

Everyone froze, just staring at him like...what the hell is this guy thinking? Is he trying to get himself killed?

Did he not see what just happened to the last guy who tried to rebel? I muttered, running my hands over my head in disbelief.

"Dude, get the hell down from there!" I shouted.

"I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!" he yelled at the ceiling. "Hiding behind your little masks like cowards! Why don’t you come out, huh?! Come fight me, you freaks! I dare you, No guns! No masks! Just you and me! Let’s see how tough you are now!"

He kept swinging another camera burst into pieces, then another.

Jojo stood up, horrified. "Charles! Bro, GET DOWN FROM THERE!"

"Dude, they’re gonna kill you!" someone else shouted.

"I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!" he kept yelling at the ceiling. "COME OUT, YOU MURDERING SONS OF BITCHES"

He was gone. His hair was a mess. One sock missing. Banana boxers proudly on display.

And then.....BOOM.

The doors slammed open.

Three masked guards stormed in, raising their guns.

Charles didn’t even hesitate.

He leapt from the bed like he was starring in an action movie and landed right in front of them, pointing the broken lamp at their faces.

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