The Apocalypse Game Begins

The cold tiles of the school bathroom reflected the dim light from the neon tubes, creating a ghostly atmosphere that mirrored my solitude. I was curled up in a corner, my back against the wall, trying to breathe deeply to calm the stabbing pain I felt throughout my body. My tormentors had left not long ago, leaving me there, injured and humiliated, as they always did.

The bathroom had become a kind of daily prison for me. Every time I entered, I knew there was a good chance someone would follow to torment me. The bullies found me an easy target: alone, with no one to defend me or care enough about me to do so.

I tried to pull myself up, leaning on the sink, its dirty mirror reflecting my tired and wounded appearance. My black hair was tousled and sweaty. My once hopeful and curious green eyes were now dull and filled with sadness. A dark bruise was forming under my left eye, and my lower lip was split, a small trickle of blood running down to my chin.

Since my parents died in a car accident, I had lived alone, moving from one orphanage to another until I came of age and could finally try to build an independent life. I worked part-time at a convenience store, the hours spent between the cash register and the shelves were long and exhausting, but necessary to pay the rent for my small apartment in Brooklyn. Life was tough and often unfair, but I had learned to endure, grit my teeth, and keep going.

Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Crying wouldn't solve anything, and the last thing I needed was to appear even weaker. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to clear my mind, and looked at myself again in the mirror.

"Don't give up," I murmured to myself. "Don't give them the satisfaction of seeing you break."

I gathered my books and left the bathroom, heading towards my next class. The university halls were filled with students chatting and laughing, unaware of the pain I was experiencing. I tried to keep my gaze low, avoiding curious eyes and whispers. I knew some of them were talking about me, but I tried to ignore it. I was used to being invisible, living on the fringes of student society.

I entered the classroom, hoping to go unnoticed, but the signs of my latest attack were too obvious. My classmates' eyes briefly glanced at me before returning to their phones or books. No one offered to help or asked what had happened. To them, I was just a marginal figure, someone whose existence was easier to ignore.

I sat down at my desk, trying to focus on the upcoming lesson. The professor, a middle-aged woman with a stern but fair demeanor, was already writing on the blackboard, and I tried to take notes despite the pain pulsing through my body.

Suddenly, all the screens in the room went dark for a moment before lighting up again with flashing red text:

[The game of apocalypse has begun]

A surreal silence fell over the classroom. Students exchanged confused and worried looks, while the professor tried to understand what was happening. I stared at the screen, my heart pounding wildly. That message didn't seem like a simple technical error. There was something sinister in those words, something that made me even more uneasy.

"Stay calm, everyone," the professor said, trying to maintain composure. "It must be just a tasteless prank or a problem with the computer system. Let's continue with the lesson."

But before anyone could respond, the world around us began to change. The lights went out, plunging the classroom into darkness. The walls seemed to tremble, and an intense cold filled the air. Students started whispering in fear, trying to understand what was happening.

I jumped to my feet, my heart hammering in my chest. I felt adrenaline rush through my veins, my survival instinct on high alert. I looked around, searching for an escape route, but the windows and doors were blocked.

"What's happening?" one of the students cried out, his voice breaking with panic.

Another message appeared on the screens, this time longer:

[Welcome to the Game of Apocalypse. The rules are simple: survive. Every mistake can be fatal. Good luck]

Panic erupted in the room. Students got up from their seats, desperately trying to open doors or break windows. I felt my breath shorten, terror growing inside me. I had to find a way out, to survive. But how could I face something so unknown and terrifying?

As chaos escalated, I felt a strange determination rise within me. I couldn't give up. Not now, not like this. I had to fight, for myself, for my life.

I decided to act. I tried to stay calm, despite the panic around me. I made my way through classmates, trying to reach the door. If I could open it, maybe I could find an escape route, a way to evade this deadly game.

I reached the door and tried to open it with all my might. But it was locked. There was no way to force it open. I felt desperation rise, but I refused to give in. There had to be another way out.

I turned to the professor, hoping she might have some idea. But even she seemed overwhelmed by the situation. She looked at the students with a worried expression, trying to keep calm.

"We need to stick together, guys," she said, trying to make herself heard over the noise. "We need to find a way out of here."

I nodded, trying to think of something. My thoughts were jumbled, but I knew I had to keep a clear head. I couldn't afford to panic.

Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me. I spun around, seeing a figure emerge from the darkness.