As of late, I’ve become incredibly paranoid. I’m watching over my shoulder constantly, I’m huddled in the corner of the dining hall with my eyes peeled, and I can’t leave my dorm without my trusty spoon.
Allow me to explain. My insanity has been brought upon by an intense game of Assassins. The basic idea is that each of the players has the name of another that they are to “assassinate” with our poison spoons. Now, every time I tell people about this game they are fascinated until I get to the part about spoons, but listen here. This spoon is my lifeblood. It’s my weapon, my defense, and my only sense of security outside of the safety of my dorm.
So far I have alluded death, and if I make it through tonight I’ll have survived a week. Honestly, it’s starting to get to me- just ask my roommate. I’ve been plotting and conniving since the day HQ sent out its first transmission. Yeah, that’s right. There’s even a creepy random number that texts you instructions and warnings to keep you informed and in fear.
But I’ve said too much. I must get on before my pursuer locates me. If I don’t survive until we next speak, it’s been an honor.