The agreement was ten pages long. When signing the final line, I wondered if Mother Holle preferred old-fashioned signatures because she was out of touch or if she chose pens intentionally, hoping it would feel like signing in blood.

Retrieving the stack of papers and pen before leading me into an empty office immediately sparked suspicion and anxiety.

The faint sound of a ticking clock in the lonely room caught my attention and simultaneously urged me to count the seconds as I waited. What was I waiting for? I wasn't sure.

Common sense told me nearly an hour had passed since last seeing the sorrowful look in Jade's eyes, but the clock showed otherwise. The hands of the old-fashioned wall timer remained still, but the faint tick tock continued.

My imagination drowned out the ticking and amplified the chants of the protesters outside the building. Although the room was far removed from anyone's earshot, pretending like-minded individuals were only feet away eased my nerves.

While I waited, I pretended Jade somehow managed to get Millie on the phone and convince her to drop out of the competition.

Although the Games were set to air live next week, I've yet to discover a participant who changed their mind. The lure of the jackpot money must get stronger the closer they were to showtime.

The windowless space soon became stuffy and claustrophobic as minutes went by. The lack of airflow was odd.

My eyes scanned the room, taking in the large, flatscreen TV ahead on the drab gray wall across from the large rectangular-shaped desk I sat at. The space reminded me of a traditional classroom instead of an office. And weirdly, the room lacked air conditioning vents which explained the stifling atmosphere.

If I was meant to watch an instructional video, why wasn't it visible on the screen?

Something was off.

The clock ticked but its hands never moved.

Losing patience, I got up and walked to the door. When my hand landed on the handle, my heart sank. The cold steel wouldn't budge, confirming my nagging suspicion—I was locked in.

I knocked on the thick steel. "Hello?" I called out. "Ms. Holle? Is anyone there?"

The lack of response thrust me into panic mode and my heartbeat tripled and throbbed at my fingertips.

Then the lights went out.

Utter darkness enveloped me and flipping the light switch on the wall did nothing.

When the TV screen lit up the darkened space, I pivoted. Instead of the usual black screen I've become accustomed to, a silent animation played out.

A wizard disguises himself as a poor beggar and kidnaps a girl. He takes her to his house where he gives her two tasks, to look after an egg and to not enter the forbidden room. He leaves the house.

The girl enters the room to find a bloody basin filled with human body parts. Frightened, she drops the egg into the basin but quickly retrieves it. She cleans it off but when the wizard comes home, he sees the faint red stain on the egg and knows the girl has been in the forbidden room.

For disobeying him, the wizard chops her up and throws her into the basin. The animation stops and replays from the beginning.

"What's happening?" I asked, needing to express my growing confusion.

Was this a test or some sort of elaborate game?

It didn't make sense that a game would happen now, so soon, when the games weren't meant to start for another week.

Was this part of the preparations? Had Millie gone through a similar assessment?

I scanned the corners of the room for a camera which would indicate Ms. Holle, the showrunners, or someone was watching. But the corners of the room were bare. Still, I'd be foolish to believe I wasn't being watched and filmed.

I paused to think. Why would they lock me inside the room and show me a video on a loop?

It had to be a test.

Was this part of the prep to see if participants had what it takes to even enter the Games? Maybe this was how they determined our survival score, testing things like skill and ingenuity.

A heavy pair of footsteps stomped down the hall outside and grew louder as they slowly approached the room.

I beat the door with my palm. "Hello? Can you open the door please?"

The footsteps continued only to stop on the other side of the steel door. Tempted to call out, "Ms. Holle?" I stopped short when unnatural heavy breathing penetrated the metal.

Whoever or whatever stood across from me was not Mother Holle.

A loud wham startled me and rattled the door. The sound of metal on metal nearly stopped my heart and my mind raced as I backed away from the threat. Again, wham, wham, jump started the adrenaline in my veins.

"What do you want?" I yelled.

"Little pig, little pig, let me in," the deep, masculine voice growled.

I imagined the voice came from the massive, hairy beast that stalked the Games and lined the walls of the lobby, but the Big Bad Wolf had been defeated by Tommy Miller last season. Hacked to pieces with its own axe.

Either way, the ticking clock and the angry snarls warned me that whatever I had to do I needed to do it quickly.

I looked around the room at the only two items available to me, the small desk and chair. After grabbing the back of the chair, I drew it toward the door to anchor it under the handle and buy myself some time. As I secured it in place something told me it wouldn't be enough, but it was a start.

Before I could get back to the desk, another swift wham shook the door. This blow hit harder than the last and most likely created visible damage.

I pushed away questions like why, who, and what, and looked at the animation onscreen, studying the images and trying to connect the dots under the mounting pressure.

The steady tick, tick, tick between the abrupt whacking on the door unsettled me. I couldn't focus. Out of frustration and fright, I swiped at the clock to knock it off the wall. But it was so high my fingertips couldn't graze the edge even while jumping.

Wham.

I screamed, pressing my palms to my ears. "Stop. Fucking stop!"

Wham.

I rushed to the desk and tried pulling it toward the clock to use as a stool, but the desk wouldn't budge. My sights met the bolts that held the metal in place and secured it to the floor.

"What the hell?" It confirmed to me that I had been placed in this room for a specific reason. And there wasn't much time to figure it out.

Sweat beaded on my forehead, reminding me of the lack of airflow in the room, which added to my panic. Where was I supposed to go? What was I supposed to do?

Another wham startled me but not because of the loud noise but the unusual sound that followed. The plunk of the metal handle dropping to the marble floor. The chair continued to secure the door in place, but the other side must've been busted up so bad it destroyed that lever.

"Little pig, little pig, let me in." Its loud huff reminded me of the popular fairy tale and the house of straw, sticks and brick the pigs sheltered in.

Which of the houses sheltered me?

The ticking grew louder. The time was stuck at 12:15 p.m. but I didn't understand how to apply that information. What did that mean? What was I supposed to do with that if anything?

The animation on screen continued to loop, but it didn't make sense either. To stop the ticking, I had to destroy the clock. The only way to reach the wall-mounted plastic was to use an object.

Without a second thought I pulled my shirt over my head and twisted the wrinkled fabric into a rope. My underclothes kept me modest as I pressed my body against the wall beneath the clock.

I jumped and swung the makeshift rope and to my surprise the tip of the shirt hit the clock and knocked it to the floor, shattering it and stopping its ticking.

Quiet filled the room as my eyes locked with a small square hole hidden in the wall behind the clock. A white egg stared back at me just as the screen went red, filling the room with the blood red hue.

"What happened?" I asked out loud. "What do I do?"

I threw my hands up just as white smoke entered the room from the crack under the door. Instinct urged me to run to my only exit, drop to my knees, and stuff the fabric of my shirt along the slit.

I stood when the smoke had been kept at bay and turned to see the black words against the red background on the screen: Failed.

"What's going on?" I cried out, glancing at the once white egg that now took on the same red hue that spewed from the TV screen.

With another startling wham on the metal door, the handle finally fell to the floor with a defeated clunk. The weight of the chair wasn't enough to prevent the door from opening, betraying me.

White smoke billowed in, urging me back into a corner of the room.

Standing in the doorway, obscured by the heavy swirls of smoke, stood the large silhouette of a furious, broad shouldered, and hairy beast with the outline of a sledgehammer in its grip.

Maybe I didn't have it in me to compete. The thought entered my mind just as the stench of rotten eggs entered my nostrils and lightheadedness came over me. "Fuck," I managed, before my heavy eyelids finally shut.