I woke up with death on my hands. Literally. Imagine it—your life being determined by a butterfly tattoo on your forearm.
DEBBIE WU
IMAGE BY CAMEO VENCHIARUTTI
I woke up with death on my hands. Literally. Imagine it—your life being determined by a butterfly tattoo on your forearm. In this society, such a tattoo means you’ve become a participant in a competition, a deadly one, where your parents died a decade ago. The universe really messed up when it chose the twenty-seven-year-old who was living perfectly fine in New York with her younger brother. Thanks. If I died, it would be your fault that Caden grieves at his three family members’ grav—
Shut up. Not happening. I will live.
Was I denying reality? Yes. Although I knew this would happen eventually, I still refused to believe it. It has been ten years since our parents got chosen, which was an early age for me to take on a caregiver responsibility, so people said. Oh well, live, laugh, suffer. Ha!
Sometimes, my trauma gets turned into a comedy show. Maybe I needed therapy, but in this economy? Who was funding that? My minimum wage or my dead paren—
Calm down. Breathe.
The key clicked and the front door swung open. School ended. Caden was home. It was relieving knowing he was alive because we knew we had no one else, just one another. Our sibling bond was truly the best thing in my life. I cared for him as much as he cared for me. No one knew us the way we knew each other. I would be able to tell if something happened by the way he swirled his soup with the metal spoon. Bacon chicken noodle soup was a common add-on for dinner. His favourite. As much as I loved this life I was living, it was time to face reality.
“I’m leaving for a business trip this week, so you’ll be with grandma.” I knew that look. It was not a good one. “You get to visit her cats. You love cats.” He definitely knew. It was over if his favourite things did not even excite him. Perhaps I did not hide my tattoo well enough or perhaps it was just the reality we both knew we could not hide from.
Reality struck the next day. Despite the competition involving violence, they did not warn us about how crusty the damn plane was. The plane was so old, and the windows were non-existent with no light shining in. It was hard to see, aside from the slight cracks in the door. Among the ninety-nine contestants that were recruited, they either smelled like sweet heaven or sweat hell.
I wish I was joking.
The lemon sanitizer did not keep me sane for long enough. There were rats running around that caused commotion within the crowd every so often. Meanwhile, other rats were either becoming friends with the spiders dangling on their cobwebs or looking like they were contemplating eating them in one bite.
“Welcome to Costa Rica! Your host speaking here.” Yeah, the host of a killing competition. “Rule reminders, in case you’ve forgotten from the ceremony.” He said it so casually that I might just hate him for it. “You will be escorted to your houses with a given weapon once we land. You’re given five days to execute everyone. There will be a number under your tattoo representing your kill count. If you assassinate someone who has previous kills, it adds to yours. When your kill count reaches ninety-nine, you’ll be granted immortality. Happy killing, everyone!” I swear to God he can shove that cheerfulness up—
Calm down. Survive. Go home. It begins.
This was where it was going to end. To be honest, it was already over when he said, “Food is not provided. Good luck hunting for it,” with that stupid jolly voice of his before we got escorted to our houses. I hated how enthusiastic he was, as if ninety-nine dead bodies wouldn’t be lying around the Costa Rican forest. Or maybe ninety-eight bodies on the wood chip ground with one body hanging inside a net because someone climbed up the oak tree for apples but crashed into a springing net before reaching for it. Me. I was the someone. The plan was never to leave the house until it was the last day. Logically speaking, there were 100 contestants total—why not wait five days and then kill the last person? I would avoid danger, and with the boxing lessons Dad made me take when I was young, it was possible; I could win, which was a two-way victory. But this was where I spent my first day of the competition. [Text Wrapping Break]
There were ninety-nine people participating in this competition and with the power of manipulation, I was ready to use one of them as a victim to my advantage. This victory was a must. This revenge was a must. He died innocently at sixteen. My one and only family member left me. Tan. I will murder anyone who intrudes. Kill. Win. Home. Luckily, I stumbled upon her. [Text Wrapping Break]
For the third time, I fell on the ground, from a trap net this time. Wouldn’t have happened if I had prepared myself for it. I was already carving the net, planning to escape with the knives I forgot I had, but some guy decided to shoot the top of the net with his bow. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to save me or kill me. [Text Wrapping Break]
Without hesitation, he asked, “Interested in joining forces?” He had a full-on camouflage outfit on and a dragon tattoo on the right side of his neck. We were in the dark forest with only the sound of birds chirping to fill the air. If he did not speak, I don’t think I would have noticed him. Either I was tremendously desperate to stay alive or the springing net managed to make my brain malfunction, because I agreed.
I don’t know why I ever had a bad feeling about this guy—Ron, by the way. We spent the first day hunting for apples and other food sources to survive the next few days. Ron insisted on helping me achieve a couple of kills—"for the experience,” he jokingly said—by distracting them and having me stab them in the back. I genuinely did not think he was joking when he smiled so big after the dead body dropped on the ground with blood pooling around it. Maybe I should have been concerned because that smile was all I noticed the last three days.
While we waited for the last day to arrive, it was quiet, despite the killing and backstabbing. Quiet enough to reflect on the thoughts I had been avoiding: reality. Death was not an option for me, not when Caden was waiting for me to swing the front door open after my “business trip.” Even though it was as humid as a swamp in this forest, the thought of it made me shiver from head to toe. While the silence was unsettling, the conversations Ron and I had kept me together. Maybe it was the trauma dumping about how we both lost close loved ones in the competition a decade ago.
Aside from that, we had similar interests. I was not sure how we were going to achieve victory together the next day, but that was the reality I was not ready to face yet. I had hardly been able to properly process that I killed someone and got the number eight under my butterfly tattoo. [Text Wrapping Break]
By the fifth day, I had the number eighty-seven imprinted under my butterfly tattoo and a different goal. Thanks to Lana—net girl. She was the opposite of me. We only got along well because I slipped in a couple of lies here and there. Unlike me, she had a purpose in life: to live for her brother. She lifted those responsibilities like they weighed nothing, or she hid it well behind that smile. What about me? What was I fighting for? Revenge? My victory will not bring sixteen-year-old Tan back from the dead. What purpose did I have?
The remaining survivors arrived at the grey stone platform like we were told before landing. “One winner, two death.” The host said with that annoying voice everyone hated. That said, I carried on with my plan and the final goodbye.
I might consider therapy, if I make it out alive, because I just witnessed Ron pierce his sword straight into the guy’s head. Blood gushed out and surrounded his dead body. The fight was so intense he landed outside of the solid surface. The wood chips were so red I thought he was laying on a pile of beef jerky. Seriously. The fact that the guy still had his eyes open made it worse.
Ron pulled his sword out of the corpse’s head and turned to face me with his ocean blue eyes staring straight into mine. “Let’s duel.”
My heart and confidence sank directly to my feet; they might as well be buried in this forest below me. It shouldn’t have bothered me that I was here to survive, win, and go home. That was my goal. It bothered me how achieving one big desire required sacrificing many trivial things. Our friendship was small, but it meant a lot, to an extent.
“So, this is where it ends, huh?” I said as I gently pulled out my knives.
“Unfortunately.” He took a step forward. “It was an experience, though.”
“Typical Ron. Of course you would say that.” I held my knives in each hand, but they would not stop shaking. At that point, I was questioning my morals. Stab. Stab him not. Be selfish. Be empathetic. Before I decided, he interrupted me.
“You’ve taught me a lot, Lana.”
“Like?” I was in a state of pure confusion at that rate.
“What to live for and die for.” He walked towards me until we were about one arm length apart. My heart rate intensified. “Revenge does not grant me purpose or change. It is just petty. Whatever you do, it is for your family, and so do I.”
“Well, that’s everyo—”
“So, forgive me.” He dropped his sword before grabbing my hand and stabbing the knife straight to his heart.
Oh. My. God.
I was stunned. Words were unable to be formed through my vocal cords. We both fell to the ground as I held him close. This was not the ending I expected. Trees rustling filled the silence of grief. My hands held the death of someone. I should not have felt guilty. We had to fight it out regardless. It was a live or die situation. For a moment I wished I was the dead one. [Text Wrapping Break]
Everything happened so suddenly that day, it was like a faded memory. Almost like a preview of the past, even though it already occurred. One moment I was grieving on the forest ground for someone I technically killed. The next second, I was on the plane back to New York. Almost like the prize and the goal I had for myself didn’t exist until reality hit.
Home was where family was. Seeing Caden always sparked joy, but it felt different this time. I got what I wanted since the beginning but at what cost was this worth it? I did not necessarily deserve it. I felt like a murderer. I was a murderer. Life’s all about sacrificing for happiness, for desire, but no one ever talked about how shitty it is to be the one someone was willing to sacrifice themselves for. Immortality is great, they said. You will live forever, they said. What was so good about seeing death in front of you but being unable to join them in the heavens?
Debbie Wu (she/her) is someone who expresses her emotions and thoughts through forms of art, such as writing. She has the passion to writing reality into stories that can be relatable to readers along with a sprinkle of humour. Debbie is someone who aspires to write something original from experience for the world to read.
Image: Grip (Cameo Venchiarutti)
Edited for publication by Rochelle Becker, as part of the Bachelor of Creative & Professional Writing program..
HLR Spotlight is a collaboration between the Faculty of Media & Creative Arts and the Faculty of Liberal Arts & Sciences and Innovative Learning at Humber College in Toronto, Ontario. This project is funded by Humber’s Office of Research & Innovation.