The citizens of The Federation were cowering, panic-buying, and shaking.
Some stores had closed down, and some wondered why it closed down.
Stacks of boxes filled with canned goods and rations and bread that were as dry as rocks were held by the citizens.
Right.
Forgetting seemed to be the only thing I could do.
I realized it now. How stupid of me to not understand the situation we were in.
A child of barely twelve straddled a female's body, knife wrapped in between his hands and dug deep into the mother's abdomen. Gradually, like splashed ink, the clothing the woman wore absorbed the blood.
It was not long before a pool of blood had surfaced and flowed into the textured concrete ground.
"Mother…?"
The boy's eyes showed fear. Once he realized the scene in front of him was caused by the blade in his hands, he let go of it.
"Mother!"
His stomach and shirt was dyed with blood, as though splashed with a water balloon that had stored red liquid inside.
The sight of the future made me forget.
We were in the middle of an apocalypse.
"It's okay," said the mother's final words.
She gave him one last caress on the cheek, one last embrace.
"It's for…your own good…live for…me…"
Her hand dropped from the child's plump cheek.
How cruel.
I could not help but think.
But the mother must have thought this through.
Is she aware, I wondered, that as long as this child lives through the rounds, he will end up killing?
Of course she was. That was why she wanted to become his first victim. They do say that violence is to be countered with violence.
The son howled in tears. Whether the cry was because he killed his mother or because he was left alone, I was not sure.
The despair in his voice was something familiar. A feeling I knew all too well.
I reminisce of a future that I won't be present in, starring this tan-skinned boy. A world after the rounds.
A teenage version of him where his green eyes just don't glimmer with excitement ever since the day he had become a murderer. He doesn't make friends in fear that they will betray him like his own kin did.
Now turned into an adult, the boy doesn't find peace. Everywhere, he only sees the worse version of everybody else.
This woman is kind, but she's had multiple boyfriends and has dated girls. Who's to say she won't cheat on me?
Poor child. The mother is just as young, but who's to say they won't use the money I give them on drugs?
Another beggar. Who's to say that he won't spend it on alcohol?
The boy's body shook. A shrill cry flurried out of his mouth. A crowd had surrounded them then. From the looks of the passers-by, this was a normal occurrence.
Who's to say that there are any good people at all?
He moves on, but he never forgets.
Before the child, I could see a screen had popped up.
The letters were mirrored but I could tell what it said.
I was the first one to join the rounds, after all.
[You have joined the rounds]
He didn't notice the screen in front of him as he sobbed further, wiping his tears with his sleeve and sniffling into his collar.
It won't be a lie to say that there is goodwill in the mother's intentions to kill herself with his child's hands so that her son may live, but it is also not a lie to say that she was cruel for doing so.
I guess that is what makes a parent.
You force a child to live in this world with no permission at all and now the birthgiver forces them to take a life.
I disliked people like these, but I also respect them.
How painful was it to destroy all the trust your child had in you and others just so that he may live on?
Well, I wouldn't know. At least I was never as cruel as a parent to force a child into this world. Especially now that the rounds commenced.
Say, a woman wished to abort a child but the father refused.
The child was born to the world healthy.
He grew up healthily.
But, as he grew, he showed signs of a disorder.
Ultimately, he acts on his desires and commits a crime.
People will pin the blame on the child.
But, in truth, this stemmed from the birthgiver, the sperm and egg cell.
Because there is no desire guiltier than to give life to a child who didn't wish for it.
My eyes remained locked on the scene. The child, in fear, crawled away from the body, as though to pretend that this was just phony.
He wrapped his arms around him, trembling. Tears surged from his eyes and drizzled down his cheek then chin.
I was almost certain that this child will have a tragic future.
But, eventually, he will turn to love it.
He will become someone that will be better than me in all qualities.
He will learn to love himself.
Approaching the body and the child and bending my back, I pressed into the wound, keeping the blade inside.
I wasn't trying to revive the woman, truth be told.
The truth is I found this child to be somewhat like me.
I who had killed a child and he who had killed an adult.
Once the bleeding seemed to stop, I attempted to pump the heart of the lady.
The world may not be easy for me, but that doesn't mean I'll make it difficult for others.
"Good job," I said, halting and standing up with a grin that I don't remember forming.
A burnt child loves the fire, as they say.
"Good work on killing her. I'll give you your reward later."
In the end, I am nothing but a cruel ghost.
[Round 0 - Main]
[Kill a living being to join the rounds. The rest will die.]
Time left before the first round:
[18:11:12]