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The sun had long since set. Heavy silence dominated the dark sky, and inside a large house surrounded by towering cypress trees, faint lights flickered like lost souls. Within that house, the clinking of chains, the pounding of hearts, and the cries of pain blended into a haunting symphony of death.
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Hands, bound above the ceiling of a pitch-black room, moved slowly, blood steadily dripping from fresh wounds. The air was bitterly cold, yet sweat poured like someone trapped under a burning sun. The body belonged to a young woman her face coated with dust and fear, eyes darting around the room as if searching for mercy.
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She was only one among more than a hundred people trapped inside this house. None had any clear memory of how they got there. Everyone awoke in separate rooms, all bound some wounded, others stripped naked like animals. Small cameras were fixed in every corner, recording every act, every breath, every scream.
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"Want out? Cut off your left foot. Otherwise, you'll be dead in five minutes."
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The voice came through a small speaker on the wall. It wasn't scared or threatening it was calm... merciless. Like someone giving routine instructions in a grocery store.
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Some had already started obeying. One man had severed his entire arm with a dull knife he found in another room. He was still alive, bleeding profusely, his face twisted like a madman's.
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In the corner of the largest room, a young man named Jayden Crowe sat quietly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Jayden was no ordinary man. A former detective, he'd been fired three years ago over suspicious circumstances surrounding his lover's murder. He was once nicknamed "The Ghost Cop" for his uncanny ability to vanish and reappear in mysterious places.
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Jayden had no memory of entering this house. The last thing he remembered was being at his Chicago home, staring at an old file about a case just like this. Then darkness... and now, here he was.
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His eyes met a woman struggling to free the ropes binding her legs. It was Rhea Morgan, a famous lawyer who often made headlines defending notorious criminals. Jayden sized her up quickly a brave woman, but fear lived deep inside her.
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"If we're locked in here together, there's a reason," Jayden whispered.
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Rhea looked at him, wide-eyed. "What do you mean?"
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"I mean... we might be targeted one by one. There's a history tying all of us here. Something we haven't remembered yet."
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As they spoke, a loud bell rang. Doors suddenly swung open, and a voice echoed:
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"The first round is over. Thank you for participating. Survivors, continue. The dead, our condolences. This game is one of memory and blood."
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Jayden stood up. His face was cold. He smiled bitterly. "A game? Fine. Then let's play."
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Before them, the wall parted. A message scrawled in blood appeared:
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"Blood Knows."
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---
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Author's Note:
This story dives deep into the darkness within people-what they remember, what they hide, and how pain connects us all. Jayden's journey is just beginning, and in this deadly game, every memory could mean the difference between life and death. Stay close, because
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silence can be louder than screams.
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