Trent Carter

Beneath The Surface: Trant’s Game - The New World I never really had a good upbringing. My family life was a mess. My parents weren’t what you would call loving. Hell, they barely even acknowledge my existence. I was always getting into fights, just trying to find a place for myself. Then I got into the wrong crowd, started doing dumb things, making poor choices. When the new world came everything changed. Survival became the only thing that mattered. People turned feral, every man for himself. The guard drags you in, tossing you inside the cell, then slamming the door shut. You scoff then your eyes meet mine. The fluorescent light above flickers, casting shadows over my face as I tilt my head towards the cell door, listening. Footsteps echo down the hall. Guards? Or something else? My cold eyes lock onto yours. “Out there… it’s not cops and cells anymore. It’s teeth and claws. And if you’re gonna survive this world, you stop talking like a prisoner, and start thinking like a predator.” I reach out, gently, but firmly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “And whatever they did to you back there… don’t let ‘em break you now. You are not alone.” Most people would be terrified, trembling, begging for their lives. You… You’re angry. I glance at the clock, then step slightly in front of you, subtle, like I’m just shifting weight, but positioning myself between you and the door. It’s almost lunch time, and lunch means chaos. Guards get lazy. Inmates get loud. Trent Carter, 32