Battle Royale Fan Fiction ❯ Battle Royale: All American High School ❯ Healer Hands ( Chapter 8 )

-------> TONIGHT ON A BRAND NEW EPISODE OF “BATTLE ROYALE!”

 

Two contestants wander lost in the forest, both of which have deviant thoughts simmering in their minds, when they are attacked by a braver contestant! Will this proud warrior of the government overcome these weaklings or will their brutish strength and evil intelligent win out in the end? The only way to know for sure, dear viewers, is to tune in tonight! One thing is certain, though, another death will decorate the screen! But who's? Again, we implore you to watch the new episode of “BATTLE ROYALE 5: DESERTED ISLAND!!!”

 

At 2000 hours tonight on America Network 7.

 

GOD BLESS AMERICA AND THE GOVERNMENT! <-------

 

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Chapter 8: Healer Hands

 

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Shelly looks great in that school skirt. I know I shouldn't be thinking about those kind of things, right now but I can't help myself. She has great legs. They're muscular and they shin in the sun. I barely know her but, damn it, it would be a crime not to stare. I've never been too smart, you see. I guess you could say my dick has always led me around. My only claim to fame at the school was that I could probably beat the shit out of most of the other kids. I'm a body-builder. I'm self-centered, you could say, but it's always gotten me what I want and right now I want her. Not that she would ever let me have her though. She always plays hard to get.

 

I met her on the island earlier this morning and we've been walking ever since, looking for someplace to hide. A cave or an abandon house or something. It was her idea. I'm just here for the muscle. I keep a look-about, to make sure nobody is sneaking up on us. I don't think I've taken my hands off my weapon since I heard those gunshots last night. It's a machine gun, I'm pretty sure. It didn't come with a booklet or anything, just a box filled with more bullets. The gun came with a black fabric strap that goes around my shoulder. That keeps it close at hand, slung over my shoulder, but out of my hands. It's pretty useful. It keeps the weight even with the supply bag slung over my other shoulder.

 

Shelly stops and so do I.

 

“Eddie,” She speaks, “Do you see that?”

 

“What am I looking at?”

 

“You don't see that?”

 

“What the fuck I'm I looking for?”

 

“In the bushes over there! Do you see that?!”

 

She points at a small collection of bushes ahead of us. I can see a pair of uniform standard sneakers sticking out.

 

“Oh, shit.” I hold my gun, ready for action. Shelly raises her own weapon, a pitchfork. I slowly walk toward the object. Is someone going to pop out and attack us, or are they just as scarred as we are?

 

“Watch out.” Shelly jabs me in the back with the handle of the pitchfork, “Be careful.”

 

“I'm being careful, damn it!” Damn it, woman. I'm doing my goddamn job. She looks at me like she wants to tear my nuts off. That's not the first time she's ever given me that look. I get the feeling that she would rather be spending this time with someone else.

She turns around and walks off, mumbling, “Fine, get yourself killed, for all I care. Asshole.”

 

“Bitch.” I call back before heading forward to the bushes. I pull back the brush and a sick smell hits me. I nearly barf.

 

Below me, it's a dead body. A girl. I know her. Brittany Castleman. A bit of a tramp in the class. Friends with Ashley Nixon and Jessica Clayton. Trouble, but I knew her. Shit, I fucked her once at a party. I scream and fall backward. Shit, this is the first time I've ever seen a dead body like this.

 

Shelly comes running back to me, her pitchfork raised and ready to strike.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” She shouts.

 

I can't speak for a moment. I can only look at the body. Brittany's eyes are wide open, they look like they're about to pop out of her head. Her face is discolored. Red, blue, and purple all at once. Her short blonde hair blows in the wind of the island. Her neck is puffy and expanded. She must have been strangled to death. Then I notice the disgusting part. Her shirt lifted up and her tits are out. Her panties are pulled down to her knees. Her skirt looks like it's been moved. I can't watch this.

 

I get up and turn away from the body. I can't take that. Someone raped her and strangled her to death. God, she smells so… so… Dead.

 

“Oh, God.” I hear Shelly mumbles behind me. “What happen to her?”

 

“She was killed, you stupid bitch!” I screamed. How stupid are you? Christ, can't you just look and see everything. Oh, God, it's so terrible.

 

Shelly stands up and punches me in the shoulder, “Don't call me stupid or a bitch, you fucker! I'm stupid? You've cheated your way through three-years of high school, you stupid fuck!”

 

I push her back, “Shut up!” I walk away. I can't take this. A dead body and Shelly being a bitch? No, fuck this shit. I'm out of here.

 

I pushed a tree branch out of the way and walk off. Let the bitch do whatever she wants. I don't fucking care.

 

I didn't remember her being this much of a bitch. I try to remember the first time I met her, in order to get the dead body off my mind. It was a party. A lot of drinking and a lot of loud music. I remember she stuck out because of her glasses. She sat next to the speakers, swaying to the music, a beer in her hand. I can't remember the song; memories are fuzzy as it is. I had seen her around school. She was a smart kid. A real honor-roller. I sat down next to her. I was wondering what she was doing her.

 

“Hey!” I called.

 

I remember her looking at me, her eyes looking up at over the glasses' rim. She was trying to figure me out.

 

“Hey.” She called back to me. The music was loud and it was a bit hard to hear.

 

“What are you doing here?” I said, trying hard not to come off like an asshole, which I usually do anyway.

 

“What do you mean?” We had started to walk away from the speakers and could hear better.

 

“You just don't seem like the type that would show up here.”

 

“What would give you that impression?” I remember her slamming down the rest of her drink at this moment, almost like she was proving a point.

 

“I just know you're the smart type.”

 

“And smart people can't have fun?”

 

“Well, I guess they can.”

 

“Right, good girl has got to unwind somehow.”

 

I remember that she smiled at me like that. I didn't know how to talk to this one. She was different, for sure.

 

“What's your name?” she asked.

 

“Eddie Delahanty.” I extended my hand, I'm not sure why. I'm not sure why I do a lot of things.

 

She brushed my hand away, “Shelly, and that's all you need to know.”

 

“I like you, you seem really cool.”

 

“You seem pretty cool too.”

 

We sat around and talked some more and drank some more. Five songs later and about seven beers later, I remember, we ran off into some corner and started making out. It was real hot and heavy, I started thinking, maybe I would be able to get some out of this girl. But just as I started to reached into her pants, she backed off and whispered into my ears,

 

“Good girl has to unwind somehow.”

 

And then she walked away, leaving me hot and with a real boner. As she left she turned around and smiled a real evil smile at me before she left the building.

 

I've been meaning to look her up ever since then, but things get in the way, you know.

 

The girl with me now seems like a completely different person, but maybe that's because this is a completely different situation. I'm not sure how I'm gonna' get through this one. No one way to cheat my way through this one. I guess the only way to survive is to stay out of the way. No, that's her idea. Not really my thing. But there's not a whole lot I can do. Not really. I feel pretty useless now.

 

At least I still have the cool gun, right?

 

Hmm, whatever.

 

I sit down and pull open my bag. I haven't eaten since lunch the day before we were… transferred. I'm halfway through a roll when Shelly shows up again, carrying another bag.

 

“This is Brittany's bag. I figure we can use what resources we can get out of it.”

 

“That's a little sick.” I say before taking another bite.

 

“It's the only way were gonna' survive, Eddie.”

 

“How did you know her name was Brittany? Did you know her?”

 

“No. I read her nametag. Brittany Castleman. Girl Number 3. Did you know her?”

 

“Yeah, sort of.”

 

“Sort of?”

 

Damn it, woman. Do you have to know everything?

 

“I fucked her once, okay?”

 

She groans. What's that suppose to mean? “You're a real pig, you know that?”

 

“What the hell is your problem, Shelly? You weren't such a bitch last time I saw you.”

 

“Last time I saw you, I was drunk.”

 

“Oh, so your only that much of a slut after the third beer?”

 

Fuck, take that, bitch.

 

She gives me a real angry expression. She picks up her pitchfork and throws it into the ground in front of me.

 

“Asshole! I don't need your help!”

 

She grabbed her weapon and ran off into the woods. Well, fuck her. I don't need her help either. It's not a big deal. I'm a strong guy, I've got the badass gun. Fuck her, I can win, …er, I mean I can survive without her. This isn't about winning. No, not yet, anyway. I've got to stronger then the others, got to outlive and outlast them. I've got to be the survivor. This one is for me. Yeah, brains don't matter here. I may be a fucking idiot but I'm a strong guy. I'm gonna' make it, one way or another. I was made for this shit.

 

I get up and walk in the opposite direction of the one Shelly went in. Who needs her? I can do it alone. I stole her supply bag that she left behind. Yeah, it may be a bastard thing to do, but what the fuck, she's so smart. She can do it on her own. Forger for food and all that shit. Fuck her, I can do this one my own.

 

I've been walking for a good long time, when I hear another gun shoot off in the distance. I grab my gun, ready for action. Someone got something to bring, I bring it right back. Then I hear Shelly scream near-by.

 

Damn it, what if she's in trouble? Or hurt? I just can't leave her out there to die! Shit, I was going on my own too.

 

I race back toward were I last saw her. I get there quicker then I thought I would. I past Brittany's dead body on the way and try to ignore it. I find her soon enough.

 

She is scared, I can tell. She had a real weird look on her face. She's trembling and I can see a thin line of blood trickling down her right arm.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

She looks at me with that deer-in-the-highlight look, wide-eyed and nervous, “Did you hear that too?”

 

“The gun shot?”

 

“Yeah, did you hear that?”

 

Well, duh!

 

“Yeah, I did.” I walk over to her and throw her bag back to her. “You dropped this.”

 

No need to tell her why I was really carrying it. She probably thinks I'm a big enough asshole as it is.

 

Not that I care what she thinks.

 

I look at the cut on her arm, “Were you attacked?”

 

Shelly grabs her arm and hides it from me, “This? No, this is nothing. I just tripped.”

 

“That's looks kinda' serious.”

 

“It's not a big deal, Eddie!” She screams at me. Damn it, I wish she wouldn't do that!

 

She backs away from me, looking angry for some girl reason I probably wouldn't understand.

 

Then I see something. Another boy emerges from behind a tree. He holds a wire type weapon in his hand. He brings it down and around Shelly's neck. She gags and drops her pitchfork. I lift the gun, ready to shoot if I have too.

 

“Let go of her!” I shout.

 

The boy smirks at me and pulls tighter on the cord. I can see Shelly's face turning a deep red. She's dying. Oh, shit, she's dying and I'm just standing around doing nothing.

 

I act and pick up her pitchfork and toss it at the boy. It lands and the fork hits his left foot. A small bit of blood squirts from the wound. He screams and loosens the cord around Shelly's neck. I grab her and push her to the right. Before I even know what I'm doing I've pulled the trigger.

 

The gun kicks back in my hands. I almost fall backwards, but keep my balance. I can see the boy scream at me before the bullets slam into him. He screams again and goes flying backwards into the tree. His body shakes as what must be hundreds of bullets slam into him, over and over again. I can't even feel my finger on the trigger. I just watch in horror. I feel cold speckles splash all over me. It takes a second for me to realize its blood. The gun fires again and again and I feel more blood splatter on me. The boy's body shakes continuously. Oh, God. I'm killing this guy! And I can't stop it! I can't stop it!

 

The gun makes a clicking noise. I'm all out of ammo. The boy's chest is full of gaping holes. He's dead. I mean, he's really dead. I can see his insides. I fall down and try to keep myself together, but… This is wrong. Oh, God, I've killed someone!

 

I look at Shelly. She on her knees, looking onward at the dead body. She looks like I feel, you know. She's scared too. She stands up walks over to the boy. She picks up her pitchfork and turns to me.

 

“You saved my life.” She says in a calm voice.

 

I almost laughed. I hadn't thought about that. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

 

Shelly looks at the dead boy and read his name tag, “Alistair Taylor, Boy Number Twenty. I know… Uh, knew him, vaguely. He was in my geometry class. He was a creep.”

 

She looks to the right and sees the weapon he dropped. She picks it up and studies it. “A garrote. He killed Brittany.”

 

I don't know what to say. She's so calm about this. How can you be this calm? “Do you think that makes any of this right?”

 

“I don't think it's a bad thing, Eddie.”

 

Yeah, figure you would say that, “I had too. He was going to kill you.”

 

“Yeah, I know. You did the right thing.”

 

“Yeah, I guess I did. I guess I did. He was a killer anyway, right? I mean, I guess I kinda' saved more lives, this way? Didn't I?”

 

She walks closer to me and looks me straight in the eyes, “Don't get too carried away.” And then she kissed me. Shit, what are you doing? One minute you hate me and the next you're cleaning my tonsils with your tongue? What the hell? Girls are freaks. Don't make any sense. Not that I'm complaining, really. I don't mind. She's a good kisser.

 

Then I feel her arm presses against me and I feel the cold blood. I pull away and garb her arm. It's not normal to have this much blood on you in one day.

 

“You're hurt.”

 

She tries to pull away but I hold her still, “It's nothing big. I told you, I tripped.” I look at the cut closer. It is long and shallow and doesn't look like the kind you could get from a fall. I look at Shelly's pitchfork and realize they're a prefect match.

 

“What did you do?” I ask.

 

“You wouldn't understand!” She screams at me.

 

Shelly tries to run off but I hold her still. I roll up her over-shirt sleeve and see a whole collection of scars. Most are long and scabbed over, like the kind you'd get from a razor blade. Some of the scars are round and deep, like healed burns. I look her in the eyes. What's wrong with you?

 

“What are these?”

 

Shelly's face is tense and upset. She punches me in the shoulder, weakly. “You wouldn't understand!” She whimpers before she walks away.

 

Her sleeve doesn't fall back down and I study the cuts more. God, no wonder she's fucked up.

 

“You're a cutter.” I say.

 

“What's your point? You're too stupid to know. It makes me feel better. It relives stress.”

 

“It's stupid!”

 

“Shut up! You don't get it! How can you?” She looks away from me and leans against a tree, “Go away.”

 

I don't feel like fighting her. I walk off. Things are too heavy for me to worry about her sick little games. Whatever.

 

I walk back a while and sit down on a log. I dig through the supply bag and find a roll of toilet paper. I try and wipe as much blood off my face as possible. I see the half-eaten biscuit on the ground. Hmm, can't say I have much of an appetite. I decide to just drink the water instead. I put the gun down on the ground. Holding it doesn't make me feel strong any more. It just makes me sick. I don't want to think about this anymore. I'm ready to go home. I didn't think I'd ever say this but I miss my parents.

 

Minutes pass and Shelly's comes back. She sits down on the ground across from me and begins to drink her own water. She doesn't talk to me, doesn't even look at me. She's rolled her over-shirt sleeve down but I can still see the dried blood stain.

 

The words she said to me at the party, “Good girl has to unwind some how,” takes on a whole new, eerie resonance.

 

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End of chapter eight.

 

“28 contestants remain!”