[Damien's Pov]
A voice slithers into my unconscious mind, patient and demonic.
What is the value of a single life?
Are farmers valued the same as teachers, and teachers the same as the homeless?
Life is like a river. Someone might float down their river slowly and very carefully, preserving the time they have well. Others might paddle too fast and reach the end quickly. However, everyone is strapped down to the boat, trapped, and forced to float down the river. Eager people, too, might cut the rope and jump in.
But the result is all the same.
Welcome to my Death Game.
***
As I stir awake, my head is fuzzy, and I can't see anything but black.
'Who am I?'
I have no memories about who I am or where I've been—just drops of general knowledge and a message looping in my head about some river.
"AHHH, this is so aggravating."
A subtle low hum fills the cold air. Trembling, I try to get a better understanding of my whereabouts by scrunching my toes and feeling around. But with no memories, I get nothing besides the fact that I'm sitting on sharp grass.
Finally, harsh white light crashes down from panels, revealing a world that is, to say the least, terrifying. I'm trapped on a circular patch of land, maybe 5 meters across. The edges drop off sharply into nothing, no railing, just an endless fall into black. Looking across the void, I count hundreds of other platforms suspended at different heights, some close enough to see faces, others are barely visible in the distance.
I look at my shivering body and sigh.
'Why am I naked?'
Everyone else here is clothed, a few in long robes, but most in dirty rags. Heh, I guess sitting with my bits on display makes me envy just about anyone.
Inhale. Exhale.
"Confidence is key."
I stand and brush back my black hair. Who cares if I'm naked, or if I don't know who I am? Whoever I am, wherever I am, I came here for a reason, right? That's the only resolve I need.
Hsss, how can you be so sure no one took advantage of you?
Wow.
Suddenly, a slimy voice slithers between my ears, trying to destroy my newfound resolve. Where have I heard him before—the river message! This must be the bastard responsible for me being here and my lack of memories.
'Tell me, where am I?'
At the same time, the other trapped people yell some questions.
"Where am I?"
"Who are you?"
"What have you done with me?"
As I listen, I notice that none of them ask Who am I? or Where are my memories? That was going to be my next question. Since no one asked, I can assume they all have memories.
Great.
I grind my teeth and shout,
"Asshole! I asked you a question! Tell me where I am, or at least who I am!"
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Suddenly, an echo plays through the dome.
"Welcome, welcome, my little tragedies. I am your host, your judge, your final entertainment.
"Jesse the Clown!"
At the very center of the dome, a man with a painted-on face, wearing a motley coat of purple and yellow, stands on a raised platform of black iron, larger than all the others. Spotlights converge on him like a stage.
Something about his eyes makes my insides twist—they're too narrow, too crazed for someone who looks human.
It doesn't take long for people to bellow,
"TELL US WHERE WE ARE!
"YEAH!"
The clown only laughs loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Calm down, calm down. If you can answer my riddle, I'll tell you anything and everything you want to know. Deal?"
Don't try to answer, hsss, you're terrible at riddles.
I roll my eyes.
'I wouldn't know that now, would I? Also, who might you be? You got a name?'
Not important...
'Sure.'
The riddle seems like a fair deal, so I ready myself, prepared to show that stupid snake how wrong he is. After some more yelling and cursing directed at the clown, everyone finally agrees to listen to the riddle.
"Alright, listen closely, my lambs, here's your riddle.
I am the debt all living things must pay, yet I own nothing and take nothing away.
I make the strongest equal to the weak, the most talkative silent when they speak.
I am both the question and its final answer, the cure for life, yet life's only cancer.
What am I?"
The clown excitedly shakes with each statement, and I'm stumped.
Time fits some of the categories but not all.
What about darkness?
No, that can't be it either.
The only thought circulating in my brain is that damned river, mainly the part about eager people jumping in...
Death? The answer is death, I'm certain. Death is the debt for living. Death makes all equal. And everyone questions death only for it to arrive as the final answer.
Life's only cancer.
I tentatively raise my hand, but just then—
"Time," a burly man on the platform directly to my left says with confidence. His arms are folded, his bald head shining.
Bang!
In the next moment, he's falling into the abyss with a bullet hole in his forehead. Blood and brain residue spread across his platform, coating the grass in a dark crimson color.
'THE FUCK.'
I trip and fall to the platform, not believing my eyes. He just killed someone for answering a riddle wrong. Where am I? He isn't even holding a gun.
My heart pounds until my chest feels like it's going to explode.
"Wrong answer! Any more takers?" Jesse says as if he didn't just kill a man.
No one dares to speak.
Fear blanketing the dome.
Then those damned golden eyes scan the room, and as they fall on me, I feel a chill creep down my spine.
"Your hand's up, answer."
Shit! I forgot to lower my hand.
I don't want to die. I can be the worst person ever to exist—but even if that is the case, I'll want to live.
He raises his finger toward me, "Answer or die." His smile turns manic.
Tick tick tick. I feel my clock winding down, but then a flash. Gentle words, not from the snake but someone close to me, I can tell.
'You're so smart, Damien. You can do anything you put your mind to.'
Damien? Huh, I like that name.
Forcing myself to calm down, I take three deep breaths and stand back up. If I weren't so confident in my answer, I probably would have died of a heart attack.
"Death… the answer is death."