MASTER OF GAMES (7 Prisoners 1 Dead #1)

Chapter 4: Prisoner 7

DAY 2

"I smell your fear... You can't escape me. No matter what you do, you won't be able to stop me."

Afra Ahsen Çakmak | Prisoner 7

May 2, 2021

Throughout the night, my aching eyes refused to close. I turned them toward the clock hanging on the wall.

It was already morning. I was alone in the room given to me. The only thing keeping my body upright was my heartbeat. I couldn't even tell if I was sleepy or not. My head was pounding, as if it might split apart.

Last night had gone exactly as they had described. When the clock in the living room struck nine, a piercing alarm started ringing, and everyone had lined up at the beginning of the corridor. Then we had each entered our assigned rooms one by one.

What I feared hadn't happened, no one had tried to come into my room. No one had dragged me anywhere or thrown themselves on top of me.

My room was the closest to the living room. Above my door hung the number 7. We were numbered in the order of arrival. To them, I wasn't Afra Ahsen Çakmak, I was Prisoner 7.

The first thing I had done upon entering was to check every corner before the clock struck ten. The room was spacious, with cameras mounted on weapons in every corner. Aside from a dim yellow night lamp, there was no other light. At the entrance a massive white furry carpet was laid. Against the wall with the door stood a small wardrobe, with a mirror hanging on its door. Only after seeing my ruined reflection in the mirror, I dared to look inside the wardrobe.

The wardrobe was large but nearly empty. A few sets of pajamas and some casual clothes. In its drawers there were plenty of underwear and socks. Some of the underwear... were unnecessarily decorated in ways that made my stomach sick.

When I cautiously stepped into the bathroom, the harsh white light made me squint. Mounted in three corners of the long bathroom were camera guns, following my every move.

My bladder was so full it could have caused me to burst and die. Of course I wanted to sit on the toilet, but... I couldn't. I couldn't pull down my pants.

The cameras were watching me. How could I do it when there was a chance that they were recording my naked body? How could I pretend nothing was wrong in a house where gun barrels were aimed at me every second? Even my thoughts could kill me with those weapons pointed at me.

My ears filled with the disturbing tick-tock of the clock. Different tones of ticking, announcing the passing of seconds, minutes, and hours, echoed in my head. My eyes kept shifting, either to one of the guns or to the clock.

When the minute hand hit twelve, I closed my eyes for a brief moment.

Da-ra-ra-dan!

The alarm went off, and I took a deep breath between my lips. I let my legs, which had been stiffly stretched out on the bed all night, drop to the floor, my shoes touching the carpet.

As the alarm blared with the same loud noise, I walked toward the brown door. When I pulled the handle, the empty corridor lay before me. My gaze turned to Gökhan's door across the hall. He had said he couldn't leave his room until I stepped out first.

I closed my door and crossed the red line drawn on the corridor floor in just three steps. A few seconds later, Gökhan came out of his room, rubbing his eyes with one hand. He turned his gaze to me. "Good morning," he said tiredly. His voice was drowned in the sound of the alarm. He came closer, his swollen eyes fixed on me. "Aren't you going inside?"

"I was just walking," I muttered as I moved toward the living room, the alarm ringing in my ears. The moment I breathed in the air of the suffocating room, my chest tightened.

As if sensing my struggle to breathe, Gökhan raised his voice to compete with the alarm: "Some mornings it gets ventilated. I think the windows, like the doors, are under his control. When he remembers, he lets the air in. I've counted the days, there's no fixed interval. Just whenever he feels like it."

I reminded myself he had been here for two months. My gaze shifted to his face, his black hair swaying with each step. "Did you notice anything else?" I asked hesitantly.

"Want a tour of the house?" he replied with a question of his own. When he saw my look, a shy expression spread across his face. "No, don't get me wrong..."

"Sure." I preferred to ask the questions on my mind when no one else was around. Besides, I feared Gökhan and Kutay less than the others. I could use them to form some sort of survival plan.

As the alarm kept ringing, Gökhan said, "Let's start here." He pointed to the corridor next to the entrance door. Quietly, I followed him. At the end of the narrow corridor was a door. When he opened it and stepped aside, I peeked inside with hesitation. It was a bathroom.

"There's a washing machine and dryer. Whenever clothes get dirty, people toss them in as they please. Even though there's a shower cabin, nobody uses it. The toilet... we use a lot. Kutay is the cleanest among us. You can be sure the toilet gets cleaned often."

I nodded with approval. Passing by the front door again, we returned to the wide corridor with the bookshelf. "I've read a couple of the books," Gökhan said loudly, "and like the others, I checked to see if any of them hid something. I didn't find anything. If you want to read, most of the books are classics and philosophy books."

When we entered the living room, I noticed Çağrı sitting on one of the couches. Grinning, he waved at me. "Good morning!" he said cheerfully.

"There's not much to do here," Gökhan said as he circled the table, his dark eyes on its surface. "There's a rarely used chess set, and a PES game everyone lines up to play." He pointed to the device under the TV. "We've got a PlayStation 4 Pro. No internet, we play with CD."

"Are you giving her a house tour?" Çağrı said, standing from his seat. He leaned on the side of the TV. "Unfortunately, our TV doesn't get any channels. PES is all we've got, but hey, we know how to have fun together."

Ignoring him, I focused on Gökhan. He seemed surprisingly patient with Çağrı.

"Forget him," Gökhan said. "Let's go to the kitchen."

When we passed through the short hallway that opened from the living room into the kitchen, Kutay was already there. Yesterday, when they'd gone into the kitchen to eat, I chose to stay in the living room.

Kutay was wearing a light gray tracksuit. Something inside me whispered that he hadn't slept last night. The whites of his hazel eyes were bloodshot, laced with thin veins. His curly hair was a mess.

"Good morning," he said. "Where were you?"

"I showed her the bathroom," Gökhan replied. "Need help with anything?"

Kutay headed to the fridge. "Can you take out the plates?"

Without answering, Gökhan opened one of the cupboards and pulled out breakfast plates while Kutay set food from the fridge onto the counter.

Were they really about to prepare breakfast, like living in this house was the most normal thing in the world?

When Egemen's voice came from behind me, "Do I need to pay a fee for crossing?"—I quickly stepped away from the doorway. As he walked past me, I only dared to look at his back. He hadn't bothered to dry his face after washing it. The ends of his dark blond hair were dripping wet, strands falling across his forehead, while beads of water traced paths down his neck.

When my eyes fell on the bandage on his arm, I quickly looked away.

Suddenly, Çağrı appeared in front of me, leaning his head down toward mine. His face twisted as he dug into his pocket, pulled out a tissue, and held it out to me.

"Wipe your glasses. Your tears dried up like crust. Are you sure you can even see?"

I swallowed in silence. Without a word, I took the tissue and began wiping my lenses without removing my glasses. I didn't want to take them off and leave myself nearly blind, completely vulnerable.

The doorbell suddenly fell silent.

Kutay was next to us in just a few steps. Planting his hand firmly on Çağrı's chest, he shoved him back a step, his eyes sharp with anger.

"I told you to respect boundaries."

The drop from the loud bell to normal conversation made my head swim, and I felt like I was hearing their voices through a fog.

"Just because she showed up on your birthday, you think she's some kind of gift?" Çağrı sneered. "Not that I ate her."

"What gift?" I asked.

Kutay sighed. "It's my birthday today," he said with a forced smile. "First time I'll be celebrating a birthday while kidnapped. Very special moment."

Just then, the blond one, Sarp, burst in. "Yes!" he sang out cheerfully. "I'm not eating your food today. Also..." He extended his hand. In it was a party hat made out of book pages. "I made you a birthday hat!"

The forced smile froze on Kutay's lips. "Thanks, Sarp." He took the hat, stared at it for a few seconds, then settled it on top of his messy curls.

"You're welcomeee!" Sarp stretched the word, then wandered over to Gökhan, humming a tune like he'd woken up to the best morning in the world. I stared after him with wide eyes.

"That's just how he is," Çağrı shrugged. "Not everyone copes with this house the same way..." His attention landed on Kutay's hat, and he cleared his throat. "Looks like s**t, by the way."

This time Kutay shoved him hard, and Çağrı laughed as he moved toward the dining table. It was obvious he annoyed everyone on purpose.

I stayed back, unsure what to do, leaning against the counter as far from Çağrı as I could manage.

As Gökhan bent to grab a glass from the cupboard, he leaned closer and whispered to me, like sharing a secret: "We tried to train him. Then we decided he was untrainable. Think of it like a board report. He' has... problems."

Then he walked past me as if he hadn't said a word, handing a tea bag to Çağrı. When Çağrı blinked down at it, Gökhan's cold gaze cut straight to his nose. "You make it better."

"Comedy show," Çağrı muttered, yanking the packet from his hand before shoving it into Egemen's. "Every long-nosed guy from the Black Sea region apparently turns into a tea brewing machine. Yeah, right."

"Not every skinny guy's gay either," Gökhan said evenly.

"Shut the hell up, you d**k scented morons."

Mete strode in with his brows knitted, and even glancing at him made me shiver. I bit the inside of my cheek, eyes darting away.

Sarp tossed his long blond hair over his shoulder and stepped in with a weary look, aiming it at Mete. "We said we would censor swearing," he reminded him, and Mete's predator-like eyes snapped onto him.

Then they turned to me, softening. "Sorry, sis. I meant to say, 'dude scented.'"

I stared at him blankly, not knowing how to respond. I'd grown up hearing curses in my classrooms half zoo, half high school but this wasn't a classroom anymore.

Egemen scowled at the tea bag in his hand, then set it on the counter. "I can't do this."

"It's not hard," Gökhan said, leaning casually against the counter.

Egemen nodded. "Didn't say it was hard," he retorted dryly, raising his bandaged arm. "I'm injured, remember?"

Gökhan just looked at the bandage with his usual cold expression.

Kutay planted his hands on the back of a chair. "Can we split up the chores a bit? I don't have to make breakfast for everyone. Now that everyone's here, we can start living like normal."

When they actually started dividing the tasks, I couldn't hide my surprise. Seeing Kutay take the lead made something click in my mind. No matter how much they complained, somehow, he got them to listen. Even Çağrı helped, carrying plates with a vibe as if to say, Look. I'm helpful, strong enough to carry dishes. I stubbornly kept my eyes on the table, refusing to look at him.

By the time everyone had taken their seats, I was still staring nervously at the one empty chair.

"Please, sit down, Afra," Kutay said, almost pleading. "If you still think we're the ones keeping you trapped here, then you need to stay strong to escape us. But if you don't eat, you'll lose that strength."

He wasn't wrong. Reluctantly, I sat down in the empty chair. I filled my plate from the dishes on the table, then poured myself some water.

"Tea?" Egemen asked, but I quickly shook my head. Drinking the water, I felt the pressure in my bladder growing worse. I needed the bathroom so badly my lower abdomen ached.

When I finally finished the food on my plate, I leaned back in my chair. The way they all looked at me, as if waiting for something, made my skin crawl.

"Did you go to the bathroom?" Kutay asked. Had he guessed? I shook my head tightly, lips pressed shut.

"We've thought of a solution," he said. "We can tear one of the curtains and wrap it around your chest down to your knees. That way, when you sit on the toilet, nothing shows. At least you won't lose your privacy."

I nodded faintly. Forcing my lips apart, I whispered, "Thank you."

"You should bathe with clothes on too," Gökhan murmured, voice low.

I dropped my gaze to my empty plate.

"For changing, you can open the wardrobe doors and hang a curtain between them," Mete added. When I looked up, everyone else was looking at me too. Mete smirked. "What? Did you expect me not to care? If videos of me undressing get out after I leave here, what do you think happens? I'd lose any chance at a job. Even if we make it out, they'll look for ways to ruin our lives further. A video would be the perfect weapon."

Almost two years.

Before I could stop myself, I whispered, "I'm sorry." Even though part of me couldn't believe a word he was saying.

A short silence followed. Egemen rested his cheek on his hand, watching me like he'd just discovered something interesting.

"So you can react. Does that mean you're finally accepting that you're on our side?"

I didn't answer. I wasn't sure myself.

Mete shrugged. When his eyes met mine again, I had to fight the urge to shrink away. "You need to tell us about yourself, Afra," he said flatly. "If we can find the thing we all have in common, maybe we'll figure out why we're here."

"You're too hopeful for someone who's been here seventeen months," Sarp muttered with a faint smile. According to him, he'd been here the longest after Mete.

"I'm not hopeful," Mete growled through clenched teeth. "I just want to know why."

"Why bother? We're not getting out. Better to get used to it," Sarp said, like he was suggesting something harmless.

"I don't want to get used to it, because I had a life out there." Mete's voice was sharp; his eyes locked on Sarp. "You showed up here as a high school dropout, a useless fat kid with zero interest in learning, wasting your days on games you weren't even good enough at to go pro. You contributed nothing to yourself, your family, or the world..."

Kutay's fake cough cut him off, but the two men kept staring each other down.

Sarp's face didn't move. He twirled a strand of his long blond hair. "Having fun was enough," he shrugged. If he was offended, he didn't show it.

Mete turned his eyes on me and drew a deep breath. A pale vein appeared at his temple. "Since everyone's just sitting here staring like idiots, I'll start. I'm Mete Bayraktar. Before that bastard dumped me here, I had a life full of achievements. I came from a good family." He paused—and the weapons on the walls creaked. My eyes darted to the corners. The guns were aimed at him. "I rented a place in Beşiktaş in Istanbul for a while, for job interviews. I'm originally from another city, Samsun."

"I'm Sarp," Sarp said, tossing a piece of bread into his mouth without looking at me. "Full name Sarp Günbatan. My life before this wasn't much different from now. Only thing that changed is I play fewer games. Don't know if it matters, but I'm twenty."

When their eyes shifted to Egemen, he rolled his. "Egemen," he said flatly. He flicked me with a brief glance. "I was studying computer engineering. Twenty-one. Living in a dorm in Sarıyer in Istanbul."

"You already know my name," Kutay said, looking at me. He tapped the paper hat on his head. "Now I'm twenty-two. Spent most of my life in Ankara, that's my hometown. I was studying emergency medicine in Istanbul. I was supposed to graduate this year." He cleared his throat. "Lived in student houses in Esenyurt and Sultangazi before this. Then..."

Çağrı leaned forward, grinning broadly. "And now, the most handsome of them all—Çağrı Doğanoğlu. With a surname like 'someone's son,' obviously I was rich." He paused. "Well, I was rich. My dad owns a construction company. I was studying something related to that, I don't remember what. Did I mention we had buildings in Kadıköy with pools? And the girls..."

"Shut up already," Gökhan muttered.

"And the girls..."

"Çağrı!" Mete roared.

Çağrı fell silent.

Then Gökhan looked at me. "I'm eighteen. Two months ago, my only job was helping my dad at the grocery store and going to high school. We're from Antalya, but I was born and raised in Istanbul." His eyes dropped to his hands on the table. His pale skin seemed even paler. "I live in Tuzla."

Tuzla... that was close to me.

"We introduced ourselves," Mete said with a nod. "Now it's your turn."

"It's not fair to force her yet," Kutay said, meeting his eyes. "She can introduce herself when she wants. First, she needs to realize we're not her enemies."

"We all equals in this house," Mete shot back, bracing his elbows on the table. "We learned everything about each of you the day you arrived. Why should she get special treatment?"

"This house has justice," Sarp said solemnly.

"Because she's a girl," Kutay said firmly, emphasizing the last word. "A girl who suddenly found herself among six men. She deserves extra understanding. Pushing her to talk will only scare her more. Try some empathy."

He was considerate. Too considerate. Was he trying to win me over with kindness? My mistrust ran deep, but no one could blame me for that.

Confused, I studied Kutay's clean features. Then I glanced around the table. Except for disgusting Çağrı, the others had actually tried to give me space, to let me breathe. They weren't always staring at me, like predators. Most of the time, it was like they barely registered my presence. What they said... could be true.

The pain in my head flared.

"Kutay's right," Egemen said reluctantly. "And this was the last room. The last empty chair in the kitchen too. Nobody else is coming. Things might change." He looked at me. "Talk when you're ready. But remember our time isn't in our hands. It's in Death's."

"I don't get why she's whining," Çağrı grumbled. "If I woke up in a house with six women, I'd start worshiping Death."

All eyes turned on him. He just smirked.

For him, waking up among six women would be heaven. For a woman, waking up among six men was hell.

"That's your w***e soul talking," Gökhan muttered.

"Shut up," Çağrı sneered. "Gay son of a Muslim family."

Gökhan didn't react. His black hair fell over his pale skin, lips pressed tight. His dark eyes were fixed on his empty plate.

My eyes snapped to Çağrı. "You're disgusting. Shut up." The words left my mouth before I even realized.

They all stared at me in shock, and a dimple deepened in Mete's cheek as he smiled. "See? I like this girl."

Sarp nodded in agreement. I pressed my lips together, clutching the edges of my chair.

"Lay off him already, Çağrı," Kutay said tiredly. "What anyone is or isn't is none of your business."

Çağrı rolled his eyes. "I'm sick of all of you!" He shoved his chair back with a loud scrape and stormed out of the kitchen.

Egemen slammed his empty glass on the table. "So, what's next?"

"Maybe Death wants us to kill each other until there's only one left," Mete said. Everyone, including me, stared at him in horror.

"What?" he muttered.

"Don't give him ideas!" Sarp said, panicked.

Mete shrugged, standing and gathering his dishes. "Why not? Now that the last person's here... the real nightmare begins. Everything until now was just a preview." He turned to us, looking like he was running calculations in his head. "Sorry, for you, months. For me, years."

Sarp looked thoughtful. "Like the ending of the beta version in a game."

"Bravo, genius," Egemen snapped, barely containing his irritation. "Now go back to playing PES all day."

Sarp stood, stretching like he was actually considering it. "Unless you've got a better idea, I'm open," he said, eyes on Egemen. "I just don't want to play chess with Gökhan again. He always wins. Not fun."

Egemen grinned. "Wash the dishes." Then he stood abruptly, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Çağrı!"

No answer. He bellowed again, "Çağrı!"

I sank deeper into my chair.

"I will f**k your vocal cords..." Çağrı grumbled, stomping back into the kitchen. The guns on the walls tracked between him and Egemen. He looked pissed but Egemen looked angrier.

I averted my eyes, squeezing them shut. I pressed my thighs together as the pain in my head sharpened. For a moment, all the noise of the kitchen vanished. I was alone, inside my own mind. But even there, no peace remained.

I couldn't breathe.

Mom, I thought.

I can't breathe.

⋆ʚɞ· ⋆ʚɞ

Hey folks!

I hope you enjoyed the episode. What did you think of the chapter?

See you soon!

Author: Işıl Limae | i********:: @isillimae | t****k: @limaeiusa

Translator: Zeynep Aizpurva | i********:: @aryarinai