Bully Trials [Remake]

Chapter Nine

IX: Confession At the Stands

Jacelyn

I stand a few feet away from Lola while in the cave. I might have said I've forgiven her, but I am still heated from her calling me a midget. She has fleeting barriers against discrimination and stereotypes. She better start thinking for herself before she not only pisses off the leaders, the contestants as well.

The vampire dude slowly claps his hands, catching everyone's attention. I stay beside Marina and Maddie to give me space away from Lola. Even when I am not looking at her, I still feel her existence annoying me.

"Looks like all of you got enough running this time," he comments. He is not amazed. His tone downplays the shit we just faced. Try imagining running with a timer, which will kill you if you don't reach the final destination spot, along with a giant ass freaking tornado coming towards you. If this guy is not impressed, he should go home because he's drunk.

"Unfortunate to those who didn't make it," Drea being the second one to talk as always. "They died before confessing their sins, so they are all burning in eternal Hell. Somewhere you guys will go if you don't fess up on what you did."

"This is already hell!" Someone screams behind me. Yeah, all of us are losing it. We were taken by the demonic version of someone supposed to be dead. We could not be alive right now. Drea, Vampy, and Jaymie are demons to torment us for our 'sins.' Demons can lie. Our deaths may not mean the end. We will just wake up to the deeper circles of Hell. No one wants that, not even me.

Drea smiles in delight. "Good."

To them, they are doing their job right.

Jaymie gets closer to the edge, staring out at the audience. There's a hidden feeling that she is trying not to gawk directly at us. She 'knows' us personally and doesn't want that to slip out. I think it already did in the first round. "This trial is more about truth and honesty. You don't want to lie."

"Tell them, your prosecutors, what you did! Tell everyone the truth!" Drea raises her voice, almost sadistic and prideful. Truth is like their version of a twisted god. It might be a cult.

Vampy does his usual waving ritual before we send out to whatever trial he made for us again. How the hell did they come up with this stuff? We are in a city in the 1800s with the old homes seemingly looking fresh, carriages and lamps around the streets. It is daytime and mildly snowing. Locals gather around by the barriers with guards standing around them. The people stare at us, booing, along with remarks and slurs. We stand near the scaffold with two nooses set.

Our clothes have also changed, fitting the style of 1800s America. I am in a blue dress going down to my ankles. There is a white lacy bonnet attached to my head. I look like a girl in the working class from this period. I stare at my friends. Lola looks like a maid, an indentured servant, which makes me laugh inside my head. Fumes erupt from her ears as she judges what she is wearing.

"I loved the dress that I had on," she scoffs. "This doesn't look good on me." I noticed Lola wore an orchid blue dress when we entered the trials. We didn't care, so it was not acknowledged. She might have changed her clothes because her parents were about to take her to a Michelin-star restaurant so far away that she had to get a week off from school.

"I think it does," I say, almost teasingly.

"I'm not someone's maid. I'm someone's queen!"

"Who is your king, Lola?"

Her scowl threatens me to hush up.

Laura's hair is entirely covered by a pinky pattern headpiece, along with a long and thick pink and white dress. Headwear is a censored bar for her dyed hair, so the old-timer Americans don't have a heart attack from someone with unicorn hair. Her dress touches the ground. If this were a fashion round (I know it ain't), she would be considered one the prettiest.