Surviving Paradise

Chapter 1

ANU'S POV

I wake up to a bright red glow. My head hurts like crazy. Inside my head pounds as if someone is driving nails into my skull. Blinking, I try to focus, but my vision swims in and out of clarity. Where am I?

The room is featureless. The walls are smooth, devoid of any seams or cracks. The ceiling glows with an unnatural white light. There's no door. No windows. Just four walls, closing in on me, trapping me like a caged animal.

Where am I?

What the hell is going on here?

I try to remember how I got here, but my mind is blank. The only thing I know for certain is my name. Anu. That's it. No memories, no past. Just my name.

A wave of panic grips me. I press my hands against the walls, searching for any kind of opening, but they are cool and firm. My breathing quickens. My heart pounds. This isn't right. This isn't normal.

Then I hear it—distant screams.

I freeze, straining to listen. The sound is muffled, but I can hear it. People crying, shouting, pleading. I press my ear against the wall, trying to hear it as much as I can. Others are trapped too. I am not alone. The thought is both comforting and terrifying.

Before I can react, a loud mechanical voice booms from hidden speakers.

"Welcome, chosen ones, to the Trial." It says.

The words echo, filling the space. My stomach clenches.

"The world as you know it is collapsing," the voice continues. "Natural disasters ravage the earth. Firestorms, hurricanes, the rising tides. But these are not the only threats. There are horrors that lurk in the dark, things beyond human comprehension."

A breath catches in my throat. What is this? A nightmare? A test?

"Nigeria is the last sanctuary," the voice continues "And you have been chosen as the proving ground for survival. The rules are simple: only the strongest will earn a place in Paradise."

Paradise?

An uneasy feeling forms in my stomach. The words feel rehearsed, like something out of a propaganda broadcast. Something is wrong. Very wrong.

Then, I notice it.

There's a metallic bracelet on my wrist. It's cold against my skin. My breath hitches. How did it get there? I try to yank it off, but it doesn't budge. The smooth metal feels like it's welded to my flesh. A shiver goes down my spine.

Before I can process anything else, the walls around me shudder and groan.

They begin to slide open.

Blinding light floods in, forcing me to shield my eyes. When my vision adjusts, I step forward—and stop in my tracks.

I am no longer in a room.

I am in a large arena.

And I am not alone. Hundreds of people stand frozen. They have the same shocked expressions as I do. I try to observe the space in front of me. The sky above is too perfect. It looks like a painted illusion. The ground beneath my feet is smooth ...too smooth.

This has to be fake.

But how?

Every fiber of my being is on high alert. I don't know these people. I don't know if I can trust them. Hell, I don't even know what is going on.

Then, the voice returns, this time with a chilling final warning:

"If you die in the simulation, you die in reality." It says.

A hush falls over the crowd. My blood runs cold.

This is no test.

This is a fight for survival.

It's a simulation.

"What the hell is going on?" someone demands.

"Is this a prank?" another voice calls out.

"Did we get kidn*pped?"

I scan the faces, searching for someone I might recognize. Nothing. They're just strangers, all looking as lost as I feel. The murmurs grow louder, shifting into anxious talk, until a man's voice cuts through the noise loudly. .

"This is bullshit!" he says.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with dark, angry eyes steps forward. His fists are clenched and his expression is wild with fury. He turns to the crowd. "Who the f**k is in charge here? You think you can take us? You think you can play games with our lives? What the hell is going on?"

Some people nod in agreement and their faces harden with anger. Others step back, probably feeling scared of the man's aggression. I watch as he gathers a group around him—people desperate for a leader, even one as angry as him.

"This isn't real," he growls. "We're being played. We need to take control."

The group starts shouting. Their voices rise in unison. Some of them shove others aside. Fear spreads like wildfire as people scramble to distance themselves from the angry riot.

The man steps forward "We need to—"

His body jerks.

A strangled noise escapes his throat as his eyes roll back.

Then, he collapses.

Screams fill the air as he hits the floor. I look at the sight before me with my mouth wide open.

He convulses violently. His limbs thrash in an unnatural way. Foam bubbles at the corners of his mouth. His fingers claw at his throat, his body seizing. Then, just as suddenly as it started, he goes still.

Limp.

Lifeless.

He's dead.

The screams around me become deafening as pure terror overtakes the crowd.

I can't move. I can't breathe.

What the hell is happening?