"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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B004 – JOSHUA BRACEWELL: START

Joshua Bracewell had stopped wasting time on tears.

From the moment he’d awoken in one of the asylum's corridors, he’d spent a good while curled into himself, drenching his sweater as his entire body racked with sobs. He didn’t want to think about what awaited him once he stood up and fully let the situation sink in. At that moment, the knowledge that he and his classmates had been stripped away from their families and thrown into some foreign place, without anyone to turn to for comfort.

That alone was a harrowing thought, without taking into account what they’d been demanded to do.

His parents would be watching. His brothers, too. His mother would’ve barred Philippe from catching even a glimpse of the footage, but his younger brother was both smart and curious, and there was no way he would let himself be restricted like that.

Joshua wanted to yell, to scream for them not to watch. He’d heard what sort of horrors these ‘games’ brought out of people. The notion of them being exposed to made him feel sick. He even went so far as to make eye contact with the steely gaze of the camera planted against the wall, open his mouth, and intake a breath in preparation for his cry, but caught himself short.

They could watch if they wanted. They didn’t have to worry about any seeing any horrors, after all. They were from Cochise High School, and the terrors that had plagued the previous iterations of this act would end with them.

It was then that he’d stopped crying.

He picked himself up and stripped off his soaked sweater before throwing it into his bag. A few trickles of water had matted his polo shirt too; he was thankful it was charcoal, and they didn’t show up too well.

After a minute’s walking, he turned the corner to find a familiar figure and the first soul he’d come into contact too on the island, sifting through the contents of her dufflebag.

“Bridgette,” he said, softly, not wanting to startle her.

He meant to say something else, some other form of greeting or comfort. But words failed him.

Instead, he simply burst into tears.
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State of Shock · Electroshock Therapy