Categories > Anime/Manga > Battle Royale > Redder Than Blood, Whiter Than Bone

Glasses

by Will2672 0 Reviews

Really counldnt think of a title for this. Descided to go with the thing that these two contestants share in common. WARNING:Strong language and sexual references. Dont like, dont read.

Category: Battle Royale - Rating: PG-13 - Genres:  - Characters:  - Published: 2011/05/30 - Updated: 2011/05/30 - 1357 words

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Julian Mccans (Male Student #1) slipped slightly through the long grass. As he did so, his glasses moved slightly up his face.
The sun was high in the sky now. It was coming close to 11am. The pale light streaming through the grey clouds overhead, spread in an almost blanket-like sheet across the numerous fields that expanded in front of the contestant.
Continuing to walk through the knee-length grass, the light gleamed across the matt black surface of the German model gun that was clasped in his fist. It was a Luge P05 9mm Pistol. A high performance, semi-automatic, gun. The safety was still on.

*

Female Student #14, Anna Tare, was tripping out.
How the fuck could this shit be happening to her. Things like this didn’t happen to her! Not her! Her daddy couldn’t let this happen to her. Her. His little girl. Daddy would never allow this.
The government couldn’t put her in this game! Not her! Never her!
She could understand how everyone else could be selected for this, but her mind just couldn’t comprehend, not even for a second, that she could be in this insane fucking game!
Hugging her knees to her chest, her round face buried itself into the thin black material of her tights. This motion resulted in her square-framed designer glasses digging into the skin surrounding her eyes somewhat. Pooling inside the tick lenses of glass, her tears continued to build up, until flowing from around the corners of the lenses.
Gritting her teeth, she continued to pose the same futile question to herself. Why did it have to be her!?
She was so used to getting what she wanted, that anything contrary to the notion that she was in complete control was nothing short of disturbing. She wanted money? Sure. Daddy gave her money all the time. She wanted things? Sure, she could use her money that Daddy had already given her, but he would by them for her anyway. She wanted a boy? Well Daddy couldn’t help her there, but she would simply have to flirt until he gave in. She wanted to get drunk? She’d go out and get drunk (She may have only been 16, while the legal drinking age in England was 18, however a popular trend among students this age was the tendency to go out and get completely shit-faced). She wanted weed? You guessed it. The money given to her by Daddy went towards this. Anything she wanted, she got. Anything.
Then…This fucking game started.
She wanted to stop. Sorry, no can do. She wanted to go home. Hahahaha, no fucking chance. She wanted her Daddy to help her. Yeah, sure. Why not. Really? No. Hahahahaha.
It was almost as if the entire scenario was fucking TAUNTING her!
Shifting her sitting position, her ludicrously short skirt slipped higher up her thighs, exposing her backside. She didn’t care.
Glinting in a bright silver flash, the surface of the kitchen knife on the floor caught the light as her foot nudged it.
Reaching down, she clasped it by the handle and raised it up by the side of her face. Lifting her head from its position between her knees, her tearstained eyes locked onto the knife’s edge. She would have to use this, to protect herself. If anyone came into the house she was hiding in, she would have to use it. Use it to slash them. Hack them. Slice them. Fillet them. Gut them. Use the knife to fucking kill them. If anyone was going to survive, it was her. She deserved to live, not them. She needed to live. She was important. If she didn’t win, she’d never see her Daddy again. Her Daddy who bought her all those nice things. Like that new mobile phone, a few days ago-
WAIT!! The phone!!
They’d let them all keep their bag’s before they let them loose. Most people had left them behind, and only taken the issued duffel bag. But, she had taken her handbag with her (It was Gucci after all. No fucking way she’d leave it behind, only to have a Special Defense Force soldier sell it or give it away!)
Dropping the knife with such speed that it proceeded to bounce across the tiled floor of the suburban kitchen she was sitting in, Anna grabbed hold of her handbag and thrust her hand inside. Sharply withdrawing it, a mobile phone was clasped in her fist.
Slamming her thumb into the button at the base of the phone, the shimmering, almost liquid-like, surface of the screen lit up. Moving her fingers so fast that they almost seemed to blur, she typed out the number on the touch-screen in under 10 seconds.
Lifting the phone to the side of her face, she pressed it against her ear so hard that the back of her earring dug into the pale skin of her neck. The ringing sound being emitted from the phone sent shivers down her spine as she waited.
“Hello?” echoed the low voice of a man, on the other end of the line.
“Daddy!!” Anna blurted out, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Y-you have to help me, Daddy! They’ve taken me, a-and I’m so scaaaared! You have to tell them Daddy! Tell them that this cant happen to me, Daddy!!”
Sitting there trembling, she held the phone tight in her grip as she waited for the answer.
“Don’t worry, Daddy’s here,” came the soft reply. Her heart skipped a beat. She was going to get out. She was going to be okay! “How is my little princess? You must be so scared. Don’t worry… It’ll all be over soon.”
“Really, Daddy?! You promise?!” she sobbed, filled with an overflowing air of happiness.
“Of course, princess,” the voice replied. “It’ll all be over soon. Now how are you? Afraid? Terrified? Filled with a deep sense of fear?”
“Daddy?” he voice whispered, cracking slightly. “Y-you’re acting strange…”
“You’re going to be killed soon,” the voice suddenly gained a softly sinister tone. “I can just tell…”
“Daddy?!” she began to sob. Why was he doing this? Why was he saying these things?!
“You need to stop relying on me, you spoilt brat,” the voice stated softly, lined with deep undertones of menace. “Daddy isn’t going to save you this time. You need to learn to do things by yourself, you little brat!”
“Daddy…!?”
“Oh, and pull down your skirt, you little slut!” the voice continued. “You don’t want to be killed with your underwear showing do you?! Or are you planning on stopping them with that if the person is a guy?! You little slut!!”
“Daddy!!” she screeched, bursting into tears. “Stop this! You’re scaring me!”
“That what you’re going to do!? Wait for the killer to come in, and fuck him, to make sure he doesn’t stab you in the neck, like you deserve?! That it? You filthy little beast! You’re going to fuck your way out of The Program, aren’t you!? Not that I wouldn’t mind seeing it, on TV. Watching you getting fucked. Raped! Getting what you deserve!!”
“DADDY, STOP!!!”
“Oh, princess…” the voice became scarily soft once more. “This isn’t your Daddy. It’s Mr O. You should really think before you do something stupid like this.”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” she screeched, throwing the phone with all her might, towards the wall in front of her.
Clattering to the floor, the screen of the phone cracked, sending a jigsaw-like glare of light up the wall of the dimly lit kitchen.
“Daddy sends his love!” sizzled the static-charged voice, from the phone.
Letting out a scream, once again, Anna staggered to her feet and clasped the handle of the knife that was laying on the floor, halfway between her and the phone. Tripping over herself, she lunged at the phone. Repeatedly swinging her arms downwards, she began to hack at the phone with the knife.
How the fuck could this be happening to her!?!?


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