King's Game

Chapter 2 - Night at Girls' Dorm

After a brief silence, the gruesome sound of a wet "crunch" came through the window, loud and clear.

Not many classmates had actually seen Blake jump off. He did it from the very back window, while everyone else was busy straightening their disheveled appearances in the wake of his manhandling.

The rest were only made aware of what had transpired when one of the classmates in the back uttered a piercing shriek.

They all rushed toward the window, gathering around the sill. It was a long drop, considering our class was on the fifth floor. The only surface to land on at the end of the fifteen-meter fall was a bed of cold, hard concrete.

The gray cement down below was now marred by a twisted and mangled body and an ever-widening pool of crimson blood, oozing out of every gash and open orifice from the lifeless mass of flesh at dead-center that used to be Blake.

The image of a corpse illuminated by a weak street lamp only amplified the horror. It only took a single glance for all of us to never want to see something like this ever again.

By now, the class on the ground floor had noticed the dark blood and the twisted body of Blake as well, but while the sight of a corpse, freshly dead, violated their hitherto innocent eyes and set them to shrieking, our class fell deathly silent.

We had just had a vote… and we had voted for Blake to… die…

All of us had treated it as a joke, just a boorish game by some rich guy with too much money on his hands.

Now, we had to face the reality. We had voted for Blake to die, and die he did. No preamble, no indication. He did not even scream. He had opened the window as if unaware of what was happening and just… jumped off the ledge. Nothing prepared us for this horrible event.

A few had witnessed the moment that Blake jumped off all by himself, yet it was clear as day to all present here—his death was on all of us, and on King.

Some girls shivered and sobbed. Chelsea, next to me, held my arm in a tight grip, grasping for a modicum of safety and comfort. It was like her life depended on it.

In the two games King had issued on the chat, Chelsea had been hailed as the guest of honor. If there was anyone here who deserved to be scared for her life, that would be her.

Amid the trepidation after the sudden and incomprehensible death of our classmate, our anxiety was heightened by the ringing of our phones.

The students tensed, aware that the message was King's reply to the gruesome scene.

King pinged everyone in the class chat group. He warned us not to speak one word of what happened in the chat group and the games, lest they liked surprises.

Sometimes, ambiguity was far scarier than straightforward facts, the element of unknown further adding to the fear of what King had cooked up if any of us made that lurid mistake.

All of us had figured out that King was not exactly human. As for how much, no one wanted to figure out the limits of his ruthlessness.

There was no way a thug like Blake would ever kill himself. It was King who had driven him to it, controlling him to step onto the windowsill.

His death was soon announced and the police came blaring their sirens. The portly homeroom teacher entered the classroom with an ashen face demanding answers.

No one said anything. The girls sobbed and the guys sank into despair. A mood most morbid washed over the classroom.

The police officers soon came in and started an investigation by questioning us one by one, only to receive the same answer. "Blake jumped out the window all of a sudden." We were unable to give a reason as to why it had happened, no matter how the policemen tried.

The police soon left with the initial investigation ruling Blake Grant's death as suicide. They had found no traces of altercation on his body or in the classroom to prove there might have been foul play involved.

What made this initially controversial case an open-and-shut one, however, was the recording from the cameras installed in the school showing Blake jumping off.

As the police left, the self-study class came to a close for tonight, the girls and guys went back to their respective dorms.

While Blake's suicide instilled fear in all of the students, the true source of dread came waiting for King's next game announcement. Sometimes, the wait was far more stressful and tense than the act itself.

They all wanted to quit the chat group then and there, to delete the app and never have to do anything with that accursed King; an exercise in futility. What did happen though was the chat group administrator changing to King, while the title of everyone else had been set to "Subject."

The name of the chat group used to be "HQ of Class 14," now becoming King's private group. The chat's icon had been changed into a crown as well.

"Evan!" On my way to the dorm, a fat hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me, "You're awesome, man. You're usually so laid back and cool, but now I see not even Chelsea's harassment is beneath you. I wanna hear all the juicy details; how did her 36D feel?" Jayden snickered. With our families living next door to each other, we had been friends for a long time.

It was his ping that got me into all that mess with Chelsea.

"Is the money for real? Did you get twelve hundred dollars?" Jayden grew excited.

"Yeah." I was in no mood to talk about it and just nodded.

"What are you going to the dorm for? You should be celebrating now and take me out for a fancy meal and then have some fun at an internet cafe."

Jayden pulled my hand toward the campus's gates.

I was in no mood for any of that. "Some other time. I just want to sleep this day away."

"You just got paid, so why the long face? Don't tell me Blake's suicide got to you. Good riddance, I say. A scum like him got exactly what he deserved."

I did not care about Blake at all. It was Jayden's ping grating my nerves. "Why did you text me?"

"To invite me into your class chat group. I heard you guys had a weirdo in there. The one that issued that harassment game. I wanted to join the fun and asked you to invite me into the bustle as well."

Since I was in Class 14 and Jayden was in Class 13, he was never part of my class's chat group.

"And to think that weirdo was loaded too!" Jayden winked, pulling me to the side. "Evan, I got into your group anyway and sent that weirdo a private message..."

"What?!" That scared me. "You got into our chat group?"

"Yep. Since you didn't answer my ping, I looked high and low, yet found no trace of your group. But where there's a will, there's a way. I got in after all. But why is it named 'King' now..."

Jayden's reply had me frozen in fear, my face ashen. All of us in the group were dying to leave it, preferably alive, yet here was Jayden, doing the exact opposite. He's going to get himself killed!

I wanted to warn him about King, what he did and the cost of joining, but doing so would get me killed instead.

"Hehe, so the guy holding the events is King? I sent him a private message once I got in the group. And guess what? He even gave me a task. As long as I complete it, I will earn 1,200 dollars as well."

Jayden smirked with pride, while I was struck with dread. I could no longer help myself and swore, "You f*****g meathead, you're going to get yourself killed!"

"What the hell, man?" My outburst put out his enthusiasm. "Here I was thinking of letting you buy me dinner and an hour in an internet cafe before letting you in on my task. We could even split the money so what the hell are you cursing at me for?"

"Just hurry up and see how long King's game will last. You have to complete it in time!" Unable to warn Jayden of the dangers, I could only urge him anxiously to pay attention to the details.

Jayden flicked open his phone to the chat he had with King, "He said I needed to just get him a pair of panties from the girls' dorm and he'd give me 1,200 dollars. There's nothing in here about having limited time. Oh, right, he didn't tell me how to give it to him. I'll just ask."

"Don't!" Jayden had me scared half to death. Damn this rotten tub of lard. He knew nothing and just wanted to casually chat with King. "Letting him know you stole it is enough."

"Oh, but who is he anyway? Some sicko maybe? Why else would he give out such dirty tasks?"

I had no answer to that. I felt as if King was right behind us, hearing our every word. "Enough with the questions. You'll find out about him in due time."

"Fine, we won't hang out or play in an internet cafe, but will you help me out with this task?"

"How could I even help?"

"You could pick the lock of the girls' dorm, of course. The dorm guard lady is watching the entrance like a hawk and once the lights go out, she'll lock it. I'm not as good as you when it comes to picking locks. Without your help, I'll fail. Help me out, Evan, and half the reward is yours."

I nodded. I would have helped him even without the promise of money. I could not just sit by and let King kill him.

Jayden planted his chubby hand on my shoulder, chatting as we went to the dorm. He kept arguing that he had no skill with picking locks even after all that time spent trying to learn the invaluable skill. When dad had nothing to do, he taught me and Jayden the art of lockpicking. Alas, the skill had never managed to stick with Jayden.

My dad… was an expert of sorts. He specialized in relieving others of certain, often valuable, things, and stealthily getting around those pesky locks. He had been doing well for himself, until law caught up with him and sent him to jail, where he was now serving time.