Chapter 5 — Registration

Tick‑tock. Tick‑tock.

The faint ticking of a clock invaded Andrew's awareness, slicing through the heavy silence. He was vividly aware of his surroundings. White walls around him. A white desk in front of him. A white chair on which he now sat.

Tick‑tock. Tick‑tock.

On the other side of the desk sat Elene. She had a soft smile on her face. In front of her was a sheet of paper—the one Andrew had handed her a moment ago.

Tick‑tock. Tick‑tock.

Andrew felt a knot in his stomach as he watched Elene's expression change. Her smile faded, her eyebrows furrowed, her lips tightened.

Tick‑tock. Tick‑tock.

At last, Elene looked up. Their eyes met, and he saw a weariness he'd never noticed before. She broke the silence.

“Andrew, thank you for writing this,” Elene said, her voice even but with a slight pause as she glanced down at it again. “It's well written. What made you decide to share these dreams?”

Andrew shifted uncomfortably, trying to choose his words carefully. “I don't know... they've been messing more with me lately. I've just... been wanting to escape from my situation for such a long time. I guess recent events stirred something in me.”

He avoided her eyes, but he could feel the weight of what he'd written hanging between them—his dreams, the gun, all tangled up with that damn contest announcement.

Elene nodded slowly. He heard her fingers tapping lightly on the desk. “Wanting to escape like that—it's something we've talked about before. Those are just ways to cope, distractions from what's really holding you back. But the real way forward... it can't be something that rooted in distraction, like this contest.”

He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding her eyes. “I guess so... I guess I'm just searching for something to give life meaning again. The announcement for The Ordeals just felt exciting, that's all.”

Elene adjusted her glasses, a brief hesitation before she spoke, her voice still composed but softer. “It's not insane to search for meaning after what you've lost. But this contest... it just exploits you. What if we mapped out other paths? Something grounded, like volunteering or revisiting old hobbies, to rebuild that sense of counting without the risk?”

Andrew's jaw tightened, the words spilling out quieter than he intended. “I've tried... You know I have.”

Elene's breath caught for a split second, her hand briefly clenching the edge of the paper. She steadied herself, but her voice wavered just a touch. “You've endured more than most. Let's lean into that resilience—”

Her words faltered, a crack in the calm. She pressed her lips together, but the mask slipped further. “Andrew, I... this isn't just notes and sessions for me. Watching you circle this edge, this contest... it scares me more than I can say.”

She set her notepad aside, her hands trembling slightly. “I've lost patients before. To suicide, to despair. And you... you're pushing through so much. If you go down this path, it's like erasing all that fight.”

Ticking clock filled the silence once more.

Eventually, Elene sighed, her gaze distant. “I see so many patients like you. Everyone's talking about The Ordeals. I worry about where this is all heading.”

Andrew drew in a breath. “I understand,” he said. “But... I can't stop thinking about it. It's the first thing that's made me feel... anything in a while.”

“You wrote about using guns,” Elene said, her voice barely above a whisper. “That's not who you are. Even if you survived such a contest, it would leave wounds you can't imagine.”

Andrew shifted uncomfortably. “I'm already a wreck,” he whispered.

He was sweating profusely. It wasn't fair to Elene. But she was the only one with whom Andrew felt comfortable discussing anything. So he had to elicit her thoughts.

Elene exhaled slowly. “Participating in something so violent won't heal you. It's more likely to make things worse. You're a good person, in every way, Andrew. Imagine what something as barbaric as The Ordeals would do to you.”

“The Prime Minister made it seem like a charity,” Andrew muttered, bitterness creeping into his tone. “Sacrificing yourself for the greater good.”

Staring into the deep pits of Elene's eyes, something shifted. There was a look of... anger. Andrew had never seen her angry before, so seeing this expression from Elene surprised him.

“The Prime Minister has lost his mind,” said Elene. “And you, Andrew, don't have to be a part of it. What about your future? Your family?”

Andrew didn't know how to respond. To these kinds of questions, there are only wrong answers.

A silence stretched. Andrew twitched nervously with his fingers, waiting for Elene to regain her composure.

Elene took a few deep breaths and then sighed. “Getting shot shouldn't make you smile. It's like The Ordeals cast a spell on all of us. Now, suddenly, it's fine to want to die. It's like everything I've worked for is being reduced to a game.”

Andrew thought about how to respond. He felt deeply uncomfortable about the whole conversation so far. Elene seemed to take it quite personally.

“I'm sorry,” said Elene. “I lost myself for a moment there. It was just a dream. That's all.”

A silence fell, and the tension seemed to dial down slightly.

As the quiet stretched, Andrew decided he wanted to ask a few more questions about The Ordeals. Carefully, he opened his mouth to speak.

“They said psychologists will screen all applications,” said Andrew. “Will you?”

“I will,” said Elene. “I just couldn't sit by and do nothing. At least now I can make a fuss about it. I read a bunch of applications this morning. It all feels very bizarre.”

“What kind of people were they, the ones who applied?”

“I'm not sure, I only had a quick glance this morning. But too many people who shouldn't, that's for sure.”

“Do you know how many people have already signed up?” asked Andrew.

“I'm not supposed to talk about this,” said Elene. “But who cares? I don't agree with any of it. This morning there were a few thousand registrants to be screened. It's sickening how many people want to join.”

Elene paused before asking, “Will I find your name there?”

Andrew hesitated for a moment. His shirt was drenched in sweat, and he felt very exposed suddenly.

“You might,” Andrew answered honestly. Hearing that thousands of people had already signed up, he judged his chances slim. At least he'd have something to feel excited about.

“What about Steven and Marge?” asked Elene. “Do they know?”

“No,” said Andrew. “They'd freak out.”

“What if you get picked?”

“I don't know,” said Andrew. “I could still withdraw. Probably when it comes nearer, I'll withdraw anyway. I don't want to die. Especially not in a cruel contest like this one.”

Elene sighed.

“I'm sorry, Andrew,” Elene said as she stood up. She walked around the white desk, then took Andrew into a tight hug.

“You're a good person,” she said. “You don't deserve what happened to you. No one would.”

She was crying, tears rolling steadily down her face. Andrew felt the tears falling onto his shoulder. He couldn't hold back his own tears anymore, so he let them flow.

Like that, they sat there for a while, breaking down a barrier between them, in a sea of white.

Andrew stared blankly at the screen of his computer. It showed a website with a large banner reading ‘The Ordeals’. He'd spent hours combing through every word.

The legal section was particularly long and detailed. It explained that by registering for The Ordeals, he was giving up almost all of his information to the government. They would access his personal information, his medical records, his criminal history, his social media accounts, everything. They would use this data to rank him among the other applicants, to determine who would be admitted.

Similarly, your privacy would be pretty much nonexistent during the contest. The terms would grant the organizers the right to capture you on camera and follow you any time of the day. The captured material could be used for pretty much any purpose. Andrew was shocked at the government's sheer misuse of power by holding this contest.

The policy for withdrawing was more lenient. Any day before the first ordeal, it was possible to withdraw, no further questions asked.

Earlier in the week, Andrew wasn't really planning to register. But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like his only escape. Besides, he could withdraw at any moment. He could just give it a try and withdraw if he changed his mind. Probably he wouldn't even get chosen. It was a national contest, after all.

Andrew opened a text document and wrote a motivational letter. Unlike the assignments Elene had been giving him, it was surprisingly easy to write. After entering his further details, he just sat there, staring intently at the submit button.

What if he got chosen? What if his name was announced on TV for the whole world to hear? Even if he could withdraw, would he? It felt like this one mouse click would seal his fate. If he'd click, he could be chosen. If he was selected, he could die. The doubt was all too familiar. And somehow, he knew exactly how to deal with this doubt.

Andrew closed his eyes and clicked ‘Submit’.

An automated message confirmed his registration.

There was no turning back.

The registration period for The Ordeals came and went. Andrew had somewhat expected the contest to be canceled due to public outrage. It didn't happen. There were some protests, but nothing too severe. Perhaps Wellington was good at propaganda. Anyhow, the announcement of the contestants of The Ordeals would be aired that night as scheduled.

Andrew was staring at the alarm clock in his room. The minutes slowly crawled forward. The entire day had been one long wait for the clock to strike 8PM. The moment of truth.

He knew that most of the country was glued to their TVs, waiting for the announcement. Whatever would happen tonight, it was going to write history. And although slim, Andrew had a chance to be part of that history.

He'd slept poorly ever since he signed up. Even though the deaths were described as non‑painful, he experienced himself dying in every gruesome way possible in his dreams. When he'd toyed with suicide, it was usually an impulse decision. Now, it was an excruciating wait for a possible demise.

Andrew had headphones connected to his TV. This way, Steven and Marge wouldn't know what he was watching if they passed by. Even though he had no lock on his door, he knew they wouldn't come in without knocking.

He watched as the last commercial ended and the news broadcast began. The familiar tune played, followed by the voice of the news reporter.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to this special edition of Channel One News. Tonight, we are witnessing history in the making. Prime Minister Wellington will announce the contestants of The Ordeals, the first ever contest of its kind in the world. We will now go live to the Sydney congress hall, where Prime Minister Wellington is ready to deliver his speech.”

The screen switched to a live feed of a large hall filled with people. There was a podium on a stage, with a microphone and a large screen behind it. On the screen, there was the logo of The Ordeals. Standing behind the podium was Prime Minister Wellington himself. He smiled confidently at the camera, as if there were nothing wrong with what he was doing.

Andrew felt a cold sweat on his forehead. His heart was pounding in his chest.

He reached for the remote control and turned up the volume.

He didn't want to miss a word.

“Good evening, my fellow Australians. A month and a half ago, I announced our contest to combat the rising suicide rates in our country. Since then, we have seen a remarkable decrease in the number of people taking their own lives. The contest has sparked a global interest and debate, reaching millions of people around the world. We have received an overwhelming number of registrations from people who wanted to participate. My staff has worked tirelessly to review every single one of them.”

“The total number of registrations we have received is over one million.”

Andrew felt slightly relieved. One million registrants. That meant his chances of being chosen were very low. Even though his life was miserable, there were probably many others who had it worse.

“However, most of these registrations came from people outside of Australia, which does not meet our criteria for this contest. This contest is for Australian citizens only. That leaves us with nearly two hundred thousand Australian citizens who registered for the contest. We are deeply saddened by the fact that so many of our people feel so hopeless and desperate that they felt the need to join a deadly contest. Our experts have read many heartbreaking stories from these registrants. We want to assure you that we will do everything in our power to help them in the coming months.”

Andrew thought about Elene. She was one of those experts who had to read those stories. He wondered how she coped with it. He wondered if she had read his story.

“Of these two hundred thousand registrants, many did not meet the other requirements we set for this contest. We had many registrations from minors, which we cannot accept into the contest. We also had many registrations from people who did not have a history of suicidal thoughts, or who did not seek professional help for their situation. These people are not eligible for the contest either. After filtering out these registrations, we were left with over thirty thousand potential candidates.”

“And now, the moment you've all been waiting for... I will announce the names of the ones who will have the opportunity to join the contest. Remember, this is not a final decision. You can still withdraw from the contest anytime before the first ordeal. If your name is not announced, please know that you will receive extra help soon.”

Time seemed to slow as the moment of truth grew nearer. With every word Wellington spoke, Andrew expected his name to be called out. Only two words were needed to flip his world upside down.

He clenched his fists and bit his lip. He didn't know what he wanted anymore. He had registered for the contest, but he was terrified of it. He wanted to escape his miserable life, but he didn't want to die.

He closed his eyes and waited for it all to be over.

“Let's begin with the first potential contestant. I will announce them in random order.”

Andrew opened his eyes and stared at the screen.

“The first potential contestant is... Lisa Walker!” the Prime Minister said.

Andrew let out a sigh of relief. One down, fifteen to go. Each name that was announced meant one less chance for him to be chosen.

“The second potential contestant is... Brian Harris!”

Two down, fourteen to go. Andrew was surprised they didn't accompany the announcements with a photo and backstory. Perhaps they wanted to avoid overexposing the contestant if they withdrew.

“The third potential contestant is... Felicia Ridgewell!”

In the pause after the name was called out, Andrew wondered how those just called out were now feeling. Would they be happy? Scared? Would some faint? How would their friends and family react? Did they even know that they had registered?

Andrew had not told Steven and Marge. It would only make things awkward.

“The fourth potential contestant is... Marc Scott!”

Yet another one down. Another citizen of Australia with a death sentence. It had to be a crazy thought for the judges like Elene. They were literally choosing who would die.

“The fifth potential contestant is... Andrew Williams!”

Andrew's heart sank.

The room spun. He couldn't breathe. His name echoed in his mind.

A muffled scream sounded from the living room.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway. His door flew open. Steven stood there, eyes wide with shock.

“Andrew... what have you done?”

Words failed him. Tears blurred his vision. His headphones slipped off his head, falling to the floor with a thud. His mind kept replaying the words that sealed his fate. Andrew Williams. The name his parents had given him, hoping he would have a good life. Now, it was being broadcasted to millions of people.

Andrew kept sobbing uncontrollably onto Steven's shoulder as they silently sat there. Even though Andrew could still withdraw, he knew he probably wouldn't. So he cried. Cried like there was no tomorrow. Because soon, that would be his reality.

An awkward silence stretched in the living room.

Today was Andrew's last day in Adelaide: the city where he was born and raised, where his life fell apart, and where he would leave behind everything he knew. He was about to start a new life. Quite likely a short‑lived one, but a new life nonetheless. He felt simultaneously terrified and excited.

Since Andrew was announced as a participant of The Ordeals, Steven and Marge tried to get closer to him. Many times, they tried to persuade him to withdraw. It had been a tough week. Now, the end was in sight, with only adventure ahead.

A bus would arrive any moment now, taking him to the secret location of the contest. He was not allowed to bring anything with him: no phone, no money, not even a photo of his family. The only thing he could take was the clothes he wore. Ordinary shorts and a nondescript t‑shirt were all that remained of his old life.

Andrew sat on the couch in the living room, between Steven and Marge. Since Andrew moved in with Steven and Marge, he'd never let them get this close to him. Andrew liked to keep his privacy. But for now, he embraced it. Because this was most likely the last time they'd ever see each other again.

They had made some small talk earlier, but as the time for departure approached, they ran out of words. Steven and Marge's emotions were running high. Marge had been crying all week. Her hands were trembling uncontrollably. Steven had been calmer, but it was obvious that he was holding back his feelings. Andrew felt a pang of guilt for hurting them with his decision.

They sat in silence, waiting for the bus to come. Steven's phone rang, breaking the awkward silence. He got up and said “Excuse me” as he walked to their bedroom with his phone.

Andrew felt a surge of panic. He didn't want to be alone with Marge. She had been extremely emotional, and Andrew was afraid she would make things harder.

He tried to say something to ease the tension.

“Please don't worry about me, Marge,” he said softly. “It's good for me to try something new. You and Steven have been the best guardians I could've asked for. Please don't think that this has anything to do with you.”

“Oh Andrew...” Marge sobbed. “I'll light a candle for you and pray that you'll find your way back to us.”

Andrew doubted that would make any difference, but he appreciated her gesture. He looked out the window and saw a bus stopping in front of their building.

“I guess it's time for me to go,” he said, getting up from the couch. It was difficult for all of them. But the longer it stretched, the more he felt he desperately wanted to leave.

Their doorbell rang. Andrew walked over to the intercom and pressed the button. He saw a man in a black suit and sunglasses on the screen. How typical.

“Hello, I'm here for Andrew Williams,” the man said.

“I'm here, come in.”

Andrew buzzed him in and opened the door. Marge followed him slowly, wiping her eyes.

Andrew waited for the man to arrive. He felt his heart pounding in his chest.

The man appeared in the hallway. He was tall and muscular, with a stern expression on his face.

“Hi, I'm A... Andrew,” Andrew said nervously as he shook the man's hand.

“My name is Josh Princeton. Nice to meet you,” the man said. He glanced at Marge and nodded. “And you must be Marge Williams.”

“Yes,” Marge said weakly. “Can I... offer you a coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Josh said firmly. “We have another contestant waiting on the bus. We need to leave as soon as possible. Please say your final goodbyes, so we can depart on schedule.”

Andrew turned to Marge, who was standing next to him, clutching his arm.

“Where is Steven?” Marge cried out. She was shaking uncontrollably.

“I'll get him,” Andrew said. He walked down the hallway, wondering what was keeping Steven so long.

“Steven!” Andrew shouted. “I'm leaving now!”

“I'm coming!” Steven answered from their bedroom. Andrew heard the door slam open and Steven came out.

“Sorry about that,” Steven said. He looked flustered and distracted.

“So, this is it,” Andrew said as they walked to the door. “Maybe we'll see each other again someday. Anyway, thank you for everything you've done for me.”

“Good luck in the contest,” Steven said. “I hope you'll have a good time. Try to stay strong and confident. Don't second‑guess yourself. You can do this.”

Marge gasped in shock, her face turning pale.

Andrew was also surprised by Steven's words, but on the other hand, he thought it was good advice. Something had changed, though. All week Steven had been trying to persuade him to withdraw. These words were such a contrast. Had he accepted the fact that Andrew wouldn't withdraw?

As Andrew's mind spun, he was suddenly startled when someone grabbed him by the shoulder.

“We really have to go now,” Josh said impatiently.

Suddenly, Marge threw herself at him and hugged him tightly. Andrew hugged her back, feeling her tears on his neck. Steven joined them and wrapped his arms around them both. They stayed like that for a few seconds, until Josh interrupted them again.

“We have to depart.”

Steven released Marge and Andrew, but Marge clung to him like a lifeline. Andrew had to pry her off gently and follow Josh down the hallway. They reached the tiny elevator of the apartment complex. Marge tried to squeeze in behind them, but the elevator was too small.

With a stern voice that echoed in the narrow space, Marge said, “Please, withdraw.” Those were her final words before the elevator doors slid shut, swallowing her from view.

They went down to the ground floor and walked out of the building. A bus was waiting for them outside. It was a large touring coach, the ones used for long‑distance bus travel.

“After you,” Josh said, gesturing for Andrew to enter first.

Andrew stepped into the bus and looked around. It was almost empty. There was only one other person on board: a girl sitting by the window. She had long blonde hair and pale skin. She looked like she was in her early twenties.

She didn't notice Andrew as he walked past her. She was staring out the window, lost in her own thoughts.

Andrew wondered if she was a contestant like him. He thought about talking to her, but he decided against it. There was already so much going on. If they talked, they would probably talk about their miserable situations. Andrew wasn't a therapist. He'd probably mess it up.

He walked to the back of the bus and sat down. He looked out the window and saw his neighborhood fading away. He saw his apartment building, where he had spent the last thirteen months of his life, locked in his room.

And with that, a chapter in his life came to an end.

He was on his own now.

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