Dirty Money
Written by: Chantelle Poon
Edited by: Samantha Law
I was caught in a maelstrom of emotions as I emerged from the previous round of trials. The agonising cries of innocent participants played endlessly on a loop, like a haunting symphony that seeped through my bones, their voices intertwining in a chilling chorus. The burden of their deaths weighed me down; it felt as though an invisible anchor had been attached to me, dragging me down into a world of melancholy. I didn’t know that lives would be endangered. I didn’t know that, to obtain the cash prize, such inhumane things could be done. But, after all, I decided to join a game like this, and I couldn’t back down now. A sudden broadcast resonated through the chamber, snapping me back to reality and out of my train of thought. Calling my attention to the next round that awaited me, the commanding voice pierced through the haze. “Attention, all remaining participants,” a female broadcaster announced with an assertive tone, “the next round will begin shortly. Please approach your stations.”
As I approached a dilapidated wooden gate, weathered and marked with the etching "Player 26," desperate voices flew from underneath the cracks and crevices, their ghostly echoes igniting curiosity within me. Before I prepared to step through the gate and face the unknown challenge awaiting me on the other side, I couldn't help but think: Could this be my last stand?
Stepping into the spacious chamber, I found two faces, each of a different age, staring at me. One seemed of a young age, with stormy grey eyes and a mane of lustrous red hair. The elderly gentleman standing next to the young girl had a tender expression, reminiscent of a soft breeze gently caressing a field of flowers.
“The goal of this round is to eliminate one individual standing before you, players, or all in the room will be sacrificed.” The sudden broadcast of the female voice reverberated throughout the room.
All right. I needed to make a plan, and I needed to make it quick. I decided to engage in conversation, to truly understand each person's perspective and to discover their hopes and dreams, the stories that had brought them to this fateful moment. I turned to the girl. She paused for a moment, her silvery eyes meeting mine. There was a moment of contemplation before she spoke. Eyes flickering with uncertainty, she searched for the right words to convey the depths of her emotions as a subtle tremor danced across her mouth. As her voice emerged, it trembled slightly like a delicate tiptoe on a fragile tightrope, carefully maintaining the balance between revealing her innermost thoughts and maintaining a sense of composure. She expressed a life lived through the control of fear and anxiety, and her deepest wish was to prove that she could make a significant impact in the world. With a heart full of empathy, I nodded, acknowledging the bravery in her words.
Then, I turned to the elderly man.
In his eyes, a gentle gleam of wisdom resided, twinkling like distant stars in the night sky. His voice, resembling a crackling fireplace on a cold winter's night, caressed the air with a warmth that enveloped the room. He spoke of the dreams yet to be fulfilled, the lessons waiting to be taught, and the wisdom he yearned to share with the world. As he spoke, his dreams, still vibrant and alive, danced in the air with each word he uttered.
After understanding the two perspectives, I inhaled sharply, feeling the weight of the world resting upon my shoulders. Knowing that my choice would shape destinies and determine the course of events weighed heavily upon my heart but among the overwhelming pressure, a spark of determination ignited inside me. I couldn't afford to succumb to indecision. At that moment, as I carried the burden of making the decision, I sacrificed the old man. It felt as if a thousand arrows pierced through my heart, each one carrying the weight of a solemn promise of the man’s dreams.
Exiting the chamber, guilt gnawed at my conscience. Suppose I had just found another way, a path that didn’t involve sacrificing any of them. Yet, in this twisted game, sacrifices are meant to be made. I learned that from the past few rounds. The burden of my decision weighed heavily, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had failed to find a better solution. The broadcaster announced, “Congratulations, players. There are only two of you left. Win, and you’ll go home with bags of cash in your hands. Lose, and accept your fate.” This was it. My life could be changed by this golden opportunity. I needed to win.
Stepping onto my assigned platform, made out of a deep shade of purple marble, its alien-like appearance gleamed with ethereal light, like a celestial artefact that had descended from the heavens. The radical tones of purple created a surreal quilt of beauty.
“Safe journeys, participants.” Before I could fully comprehend the meaning behind her parting words, I felt a powerful gust of wind blow me off my feet and pull me into what seemed like a portal, a swirling vortex of energy. As I noticed that time seemed to warp and bend within the vortex as if the boundaries of reality were being stretched and reshaped, I lost consciousness.
Opening my eyes, I found myself lying in a grassy meadow. The vibrant green blades tickled my skin as I groggily stood up, trying to steady myself. Taking in my surroundings as the gentle caress of a warm gust of wind blew the hair out of my face, I glanced up. My attention was immediately drawn to the figure standing opposite me–my opponent. Her presence commanded the space, radiating an aura of unyielding determination. Her eyes, now staring at me and analysing my every move, held a fiery firmness, as if she had already mapped out every move in her mind. Poised and defensive, her stance sent a ripple of tension as intense as a million scorching suns through the air. “This shall be the last game, you will have to debate against each other, and come to a mutual decision on who should survive.” As the broadcaster’s voice echoed through the meadow, the gravity of the situation intensified, reminding us that this would be the final journey for either one of us. I attempted to steel myself by taking a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill my lungs. Yet, despite my best efforts, a flicker of doubt remained, like a subtle ember glowing in my mind.
Sitting down on the soft, lush blanket of grass, Player 8 broke the silence, her gaze marked with wariness as she carefully tended to her wounds. As she continued to bandage her injuries, she asked, "Who are you?" her voice was inquisitive and filled with curiosity. With each delicate movement, she wiped the sticky blood off her face, a determined glare in her eyes.
Her words lingered in the air, echoing through my mind as I grappled with conflicting emotions. Like a predator, I had analysed her every move throughout the game, studying and observing her decisions and intentions. It was clear to me that she aimed to manipulate my emotions, attempting to guilt me into saving her and securing her survival. But now, as she sat in front of me, wounded and vulnerable, I couldn’t help but feel a hint of empathy for her. I hesitated, my finger hovered over the voting screen. The weight of the decision pressed upon me, demanding that I prioritize my own needs over hers. Player 8 expresses her disapproval, saying, "Are you making a decision already?" I remain silent and choose not to vote, exiting the screen. She seems to read my thoughts and explains, "Well, if you're curious, I have a family. As far as I know, my mother is probably still alive, and my brother is taking care of her." Her statement confuses me, so I cautiously ask, "You don't live with them?" She confirms my suspicion and reveals, "I ran away as a child. Now I find myself in desperate need of money." Player 8’s words hung in the air, her words settling upon me like a leaden cloak. As the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, it formed a picture of our intertwined lives. At that moment, her face became a mirror reflecting my own features, like a fragmented reflection of the past staring back at me. The resemblance between us was undeniably striking, like a mirror reflecting two halves of the same soul. She was the missing piece of my life, a puzzle solved in an unexpected twist of destiny.
Yet, as the announcer's voice pierced the air once again, a sense of urgency and pressure filled the void. Our fragile reunion was threatened to be shattered by the ten-minute countdown, an invisible hourglass. The sands of time slipped through my fingers, each grain a reminder of the need to make the decision at once.
My mind became a battlefield, where conflicting desires clashed like opposing armies. The cash prize was attractive, gleaming like a golden idol and beckoning me with a promise of prosperity for a lifetime. But alongside it, the reminder for my family’s safety kept coming back to my mind, whispering in hushed tones of loyalty and love.
Overwhelmed by the gravity of my decision, I found myself flooded with a shower of questions. Should I pursue personal gain at the expense of a long-lost bond with a loved one? Would the weight of that decision crush the fragile bridge that had begun to connect our lives together? Or should I accept the chance for redemption, sacrificing riches for the chance to rebuild a bond lost to time? Which choice would I pick if I wanted the best for myself?