Prologue
"Alice…Alice…Alice..."
Though these apparent tears were flowing from my eyes, I remained stood as a still statue. Oblivious of the emotions that spread through me as I witnessed the scene of this man's arrest, there was a strong compelled feeling that told me to remain ignorant of his desperate cries. He was being dragged out the door, with effort from the police that arrested him, yet he still stared into my eyes and cried out the name Alice, my name. Instinct took hold of me that once, as I tried reaching him with my little hands, but it never reached, because he was already taken away by justice. What came after was my father's strong pair of arms wrapping around me, calming me and eluding everything…
That was a vivid memory of Alice Ernst, the age of 6, my own recall.
(Throwing it behind me for years, I had not anticipated that this man would come back and dominate my future, placing me as a pawn in a game…)
--- --- ---
Nonchalantly, the coarse, rigid walls of the prison retreated into the drape of shadows, as the dim torch-light skewered its surface. Certainly, these scarred walls were more pleasant than the corrupt inhabitants that abide within its dwelling, that claim to be human. The air was foul, often filled with the aroma of fresh flesh ripped from an overly-shrewd victim. Life was always a stolen bet.
Within this endless and deepest burrow, the tip-tapping rhythm created by the footsteps of the officials, as they filed into the prison, inevitably alerted the lurking beasts. Their white suites embossed out of the blackness, showing the difference, enraged the fallen ones. Reverberating behind each individual chamber, were sounds of dripping blood, banging of the steel bars and strains against the iron chains. Often accompanying this range of ear-tearing noise were the callous shrieks such as, "I'm innocent," or "Let me out," or "I'll escape and kill you," but definitely "I'm NOT a Psycho!"
Although in this prison, these cries were always to be heard every second of the day, they ceased as the moderator glided in, the heels clicking with each step she took. The prisoners were silent and only awaited their chance.
"Have we retrieved our items yet?" the moderator asked, her voice loud and commanding.
One of the officials in white stepped forward, "Moderator huh, well as you can see, we're almost done-"
"Almost," the moderator quoted, "almost- isn't good enough. I want the prisoners ready in 5mins time; we've no time to play."
"Even though these items are to be used, why are we in such a rush?"
The moderator leered at her subordinate, her eyes flashing with craze excitement, "the invitation has already been sent to the players. The Psycho-Game Tournament is about to start… the most dangerous game ever…"