Capítulo 1: The Game
Haisley
I sit frozen, staring at the screen as I enter my information. Honestly, I'm not sure why I'm even doing this—dating feels like a dead end these days. Yet, there's something about this game. Everyone's been talking about it, whispering its name like a secret too dark to say aloud. I don't know where it came from, who's behind it, or how it really works.
The Devil's Dare.
The name itself feels like a warning, not an invitation. It doesn't sound like a dating game, but curiosity pulls me in deeper. Now, here I am, typing out every intimate detail of my life like an offering to something unseen.
The questions are invasive, unsettling. They don't just ask about the surface—they dig deep. My weight, height, number of sexual partners—then it goes darker, asking about acts I've done, things I've only ever whispered. It doesn't stop there. It probes into my family, my career, my secrets. The more I type, the more it feels like this game is taking pieces of me, pulling apart every layer.
Still, the hype says this is just a game—a twisted, dangerous one, maybe—but a game nonetheless.
With a shaky breath, I hit Submit.
The screen goes black instantly. My heart skips a beat as white lines flicker across the darkness, dancing like static. I lean closer, squinting. There are words hidden in the static, something whispered just out of reach—but before I can make them out, they vanish.
Then, slowly, the screen comes back to life. Letters appear, one by one, as though someone is typing them just for me.
Welcome to The Devil's Dare.
You have been accepted. As per the terms and conditions, there is no way back now. Not until the end.
My chest tightens as I read the words, dread creeping in.
Here are the rules of the game:
All Dares Must Be Completed: Every dare must be carried out without question. Failure results in consequences determined by the Game Master.
No Backing Out: Once accepted, you are locked in. The game only ends when it chooses to.
Secrecy Is Mandatory: You cannot speak about the true nature of the game. Breaking this rule will lead to severe penalties.
Partnership Challenges: You will be paired with different partners throughout the game. Trust is key. Betraying your partner will come with dire consequences.
Truth or Dare Rounds: Choose "Truth," and you must answer honestly. Lies are punished. Choose "Dare," and you must complete the task, no matter how extreme.
No Contact With the Outside World: During certain phases of the game, you will be completely cut off. There is no escape.
Physical and Emotional Limits Will Be Tested: The game is designed to push you beyond your limits, both mentally and physically. You must endure whatever is thrown at you.
The Game Master's Word Is Final: The Game Master controls all. Every decision is final and beyond challenge.
No Refusal of a Mate: If a match is made, you must comply. Refusal will result in immediate punishment or removal—with unknown consequences.
Completion Reward: If you make it to the end, a reward awaits. What it is remains a mystery, but the stakes are far higher than they seem.
I can feel my heartbeat thudding in my ears as I read each rule, the reality sinking in with every word. This isn't just a game. There's something darker here, something that twists the concept of "dating" into something else entirely. A sinister current hums beneath the surface, unseen but undeniably there.
And now, I'm a part of it.
There's no way out, not anymore. I'm in, whether I want to be or not.
There's no information about when this begins, no hints about who the guys are, or even what kind of dating this really is. Nothing at all. Maybe it's more of a blind date type thing? I mean, I'm fine with that… right?
The screen stays eerily still, no further instructions, no countdown, nothing. I sit back, staring at the glow of my laptop, a nagging feeling twisting in the pit of my stomach. Hours pass. The room grows darker as the sun dips below the horizon, leaving only the pale blue light from my screen to bathe the walls in a ghostly hue. The house feels too quiet, the silence suffocating.
I glance at the clock. It's late, but sleep feels like a distant thought. My mind is still tangled in this strange game, unsure of what I've just agreed to.
And then—just as my eyelids start to feel heavy—the screen flickers.
A message.
Now.
The word pulses once, twice, then dissolves, leaving behind another set of instructions.
You must now disconnect from the entire world. Post on all social platforms that you are taking time out and will be unreachable. Ensure no one will attempt to contact you.
My pulse quickens.
I stare at the words, feeling the weight of their demand sink in. A faint hum begins in the back of my mind—a warning, maybe—but my fingers move on their own. I open my social media accounts, each one blurring into the next, and type out the same message:
"Taking some time off. Don't reach out. I need space."
It feels final. Permanent. The kind of thing people post when they want to disappear for real.
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