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“Well, looks like you guys guessed right,” A dreadfully familiar voice rang out through the trial room. “That’s right. The one behind this despair-filled Killing TV Show is… ME, WHIT YOUNG!” There was a puff of smoke, and when it cleared out, Whit was wearing a different outfit. His left eye was now blue, and his right eye was glowing red, the colors comparable to MonoTV’s screen face. “The curtain rises once more in the theatre of despair! Now, my dear actors, you’ll have to give us a good show; our audience is expecting a grand finale!” Several TVs flickered to life around the trial circle, each of them displaying a picture of MonoTV’s corrupt face.
“Trying to run? You can’t run! That’s right. Be afraid, cry aloud, and submit to despair! Well? What do you feel, now that you know your precious classmate is the mastermind of this wicked killing game? Fear? Hate? Or perhaps… betrayal?” Whit turned his multicolored eyes to Charles Cuevas, who was still gripping his monopad tightly.
Charles was shaking, and he was breathing heavily. A look of disbelief was fixed on his pale face, and he kept his eyes down, as if he were trying to avoid the whole situation.
“You… you can’t be the mastermind.” he breathed. He clutched himself, shrinking backwards. “After all, I… after all this time-”
“Hm? What was that? I can’t be the mastermind? ...Is it because I’m your ‘friend’?” Whit mocked, knowing Charles couldn’t respond. “Listen well. You mean nothing to me. None of you mean anything to me. You’re all just puppets on a string to be toyed around with. Manipulatable. Disposable. Worthless.” he spat.
“No.. you can’t be...” Charles was really trembling now.
“Heh. You really thought that I- no, anyone would want to be friends with you? You’re useless, Charles.” Whit laughed, the sound familiar yet strange.
The mastermind’s smile grew wider as Charles didn’t respond. “Come on, what’s the matter with you? We’re the only ones on the stage right now. Don’t you have a few words to say to your… ‘best friend’?” In the blink of an eye, Whit was suddenly next to the chemist. He placed a finger under his chin, forcing Charles’ scared yellow eyes to meet his own. “Well? What about it, Charles Cuevas?”
“Don’t touch me,” Charles spat, shoving his hand away. “How could you… kill others for your entertainment? You… you disgust me. ”
“But that’s not what you really think, is it?” Charles flinched at Whit’s words. “There’s no use trying to be all tough now, Charles. Your feelings are like an open book to me. Remember? I have a good intuition about how people feel. Right now, you’re feeling angry, scared, and betrayed. Hahahaha, It must hurt! Hah...”
Whit’s laugh trailed off. “Ahaha… ahem, where are my formalities? As the host, I shouldn’t have laughed so hard. Right, where were we again?”
As Whit continues to talk, Charles is standing there, completely blocking out the mastermind’s voice. He hates it. He hates the mastermind’s voice, laugh, and mocking tone.
They’re Whit’s. Charles remembers so clearly, his stupid laugh, the teasing tilt of his voice, his stupid face that drives Charles insane but still loves dearly so. He remembers the time the two of them spent together, talking about random stupid topics. But even if their conversations seemed meaningless, Charles held them in his heart, for it made him feel happy and warm inside. He remembers his true feelings, how he always kept them hidden, how he would never tell Whit Young that he liked him, maybe liked him more than a ‘friend’ kind of way. He remembers so clearly, yet it all seems so far away.
This person… This ‘Whit Young’... was not him. This Whit Young would never comfort him after something traumatizing, never crack stupid jokes to lighten the mood… Instead, this Whit would kill for the sake of “entertainment”, and would make his classmates suffer and watch each other die. This wasn’t the person Charles knew.
Give Whit Young back to me.
The small flame of anger is immediately drowned by the sea of anguish in his heart, for Charles can only think and hope. Because the Whit in front of him was reality, and he needed to face it. The Whit he knew was gone, nothing more than a memory. But still, he found himself hoping that maybe, maybe… perhaps Whit did enjoy hanging out with him even just a little bit.
“Well, looks like my time is up,” Whit’s voice suddenly snapped Charles back to reality. “You guys all voted for me, and you got it correct! You know what happens next~”
Charles froze. What he knew would happen to every blackened, what he dreaded the most, now going to happen to Whit.
No, don’t! ye lled a voice in his head. Charles felt tears rolling down his face, but he made no effort to stop them. It’s all my fault, isn’t it? Please don’t leave me.
I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me...
“Now, the curtain call! The show concludes with a thrilling twist… and my noble sacrifice! Without further ado... let’s give it everything we got!”
“It’s... PUNISHMENT TIME!”