What happens when a bunch of killers are forced to live together?
BATTLE OF THE KILLERS is a reality show that follows Betinia Woods, a girl kidnapped and forced to live in an underground bunker with twelve other killers. The bunker is equipped wit...
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"FUCK THIS. I'm not dying today." The rude boy rushed over to the table, joining the gruffy-beard man, who was still whacking away at the body.
Squishy noises soon combined with hacking flesh, and preppy boy couldn't take it. He started gagging again while stumbling into a wall.
Sketcher girl cried harder like she was trying to drown out the murderous noises with her sobs. The Betinia part of me told myself to comfort her. Isn't that what normal people do?
But Tini urged me to march over to Michael's dead body and explore it like it was my first time at Disneyworld. She told me to fulfill one of my deepest desires, to explore a human body.
But I followed my norm like I programmed myself to do a long time ago.
"It'll be okay," I whispered to the girl, kneeling on the cold floor to comfort her. She couldn't be more than fourteen, maybe younger.
She sobbed into her small hands. "I'm gonna die." She hiccupped through her tears, burping for a second. "And I never did nothing wrong. I was a good girl."
"You're not — this is just... um — " I stammered, trying to come up with something positive and sweet to say like normal people would do, but I came up empty.
What do you say to a girl who just found out she's on a murderous TV show with other killers?
I looked behind me, seeing people surround the dead body. Gruffy-beard continued to hack away, but this time at the head while the guy I stumbled into earlier — warm-eyes — and some blond guy watched from across the table. Gruffy-beard must be trying to break the skull and go for the brain.
A guy in a hoodie who looked familiar, a pretty girl with nerd glasses, and the skinny girl from earlier towered near the table, all of them watching gruffy-beard with mixed expressions.
"Umm, sir?" the skinny girl said in a polite tone to gruffy-beard.
He paused, giving her large brown eyes.
"Do you mind, um, getting me the intestines?" she asked, wiping at her cashmere sweater. She didn't look like the type of girl who was used to getting dirty.
Gruffy-beard never said a word, just kept banging away.
The others started barking out body parts that they wanted while gruffy-beard continued to hack, splashing more wet blood onto his pale skin.
"He can't dissect the whole body by himself," the blond guy said. "We only have an hour left."
"You guys need to get your own shit," the rude guy said, standing at the legs. "Unless you want to die today."
"We each should just grab our own parts. First come, first serve," warm-eyes said while grabbing a tool off the table and digging into the body.
Soon, others followed, picking up tools and getting ready for their turn, except for preppy guy. He continued dry heaving in the corner, sweat pouring down his face.
