Chapter 17 #2
I consider it. It would be peaceful. To never feel again.
“We need to keep going,” Elijah says, his voice raspy.
I agree. But my legs feel numb, and my chest feels numb, and now that I’ve stopped, I don’t think I can keep going.
My adrenal supply is drained from too much fight or flight, lack of sleep, and lack of nutrition.
Elijah must feel it too, because he collapses against a tree, unable to catch himself.
We sit there, both exhausted, staring at each other like one is going to knife the other as soon as we let our guard down.
My body feels like it’s a thousand pounds. Elijah’s had plenty of chances to hurt me. Would he really wait until I fell asleep to do it?
I must black out for a bit, because when I can focus my eyes again, Elijah’s are droopy.
I’ll just rest my eyes. I close my eyes. I’ll just rest…
Before I realize it, I’m right back to being woken up with my legs being ripped open. Only this time, it’s Elijah.
Gasping, I scramble back, wildly kicking at Elijah.
Only, when I blink, his hands aren’t on me. In fact, he hasn’t moved from his spot by the tree. I suck in breath after breath.
Another dream.
Elijah pretends he didn’t see what just happened, turning to give me some semblance of privacy.
Fuck. Hot, stinging tears well up in my eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I just want to go home.
To distract myself, I dig in my backpack, grabbing the vanilla protein bar. Ripping it open, I take a bite.
It tastes like sweet sawdust, and I almost choke.
Elijah glances over at me.
I get myself under control, swallowing painfully. Semi-sweet sludge moves down my throat.
He looks away. “The vanilla tastes like shit.”
I huff out a breath.
We’re silent for a bit. I wish I had water to wash it down. I’m not sure I can eat the rest.
“Why are you staying with me?” I ask. I’m not sure if he’ll answer, but I have to know.
Elijah’s soft voice comes just over the crash of waves. “You uh, remind me of someone.” He’s quiet for so long that I think that’s the end of his thought. Then, he clears his throat. “Dolly.”
I look up at him. He doesn’t look back at me. I pause, unsure if he wants me to press. He looks so…sad with his shoulders hunched over. Like he’s trying to get smaller. To disappear so no one hurts him. His eyes glaze over like he’s sinking into that place of paralysis.
Fuck, if he checks out of reality, I’m not sure if I can get him checked back in. I have to keep him talking. So softly, I ask, “Who is she?”
“My sister.” Elijah continues to stare. Somewhere, a seagull cries. It’s an angry sound and yet somehow sad as well.
“She’s the reason I’m here, you know,” Elijah says.
I look the same way he’s staring. I can’t see much.
Just trees and bushes. Enough to keep us hidden from anyone who might be on the beach, but close enough to give us a good warning if anyone approaches.
Tiny slivers of beach appear between the bushes.
But I doubt he sees any of that. He seems locked in his head.
“She was a good person. Is a good person. It’s all my fault.” Elijah’s breath hitches.
“Hey,” I say softly, watching his shoulders to make sure he isn’t going to lose it again. Anger fills my chest. “This is their fault. Not yours.”
“It is mine, though.” Elijah’s head drops, and he stares at his backpack. “I got her hooked on the stuff.” His voice tightens with emotion, and he swallows audibly.
There’s an uncomfortable feeling in my chest. His sister is clearly an upsetting topic, and I’m not sure if he should be reliving it while we’re trying to…survive. “You don’t have to—”
“No, I do,” Elijah cuts me off. “You asked me why.” His voice softens almost so softly I can barely hear it. “And I don’t want…I don’t want her story to die with me.”
I close my mouth at that. The space between us fills with the sound of the ocean, and another cry from a seagull.
I want to argue that he won’t be dying. That we’re going to survive this stupid thing. We will survive. But the sentiment feels as flavorless as the vanilla protein bar.
“You, uh…in the basement, Dolly, uh…” Elijah trails off, and my heart rate picks up as he talks.
I feel sick. I don’t want to talk about it.
Elijah licks his lips, then keeps going.
“She was never the same after. I couldn’t save her.
Couldn’t stop it.” His swallow is audible.
“I thought if she just did it once, it would help, you know? It helped me.” Elijah drops his head, pulling in ragged breaths.
“It helped me. I wasn’t trying to get her hooked. ”
I feel the pain radiating off of him in waves, and it makes me stiffen. I know what it’s like to feel deep pain. And I don’t like it. I swore to never allow myself to feel that deeply again. To never get close to anyone again.
“She ran up a debt. We both did. A huge one. Coming here pays it off.”
I stare at the rest of my uneaten bar, trying to ward off the tightness in my throat.
“We’re gonna win. I’m gonna win,” Elijah says, his mood swinging to a manic sort of confidence. “It’s just fourteen days.”
I focus. Right. Fourteen days. As in, there’s an end date to this.
“What happens on the fourteenth day?” I ask. A twisted feeling hits my stomach. Is there only one winner?
“You get your freedom,” Elijah says. “Allegedly.”
Allegedly. Have there been any winners?
“Years ago, someone survived. I think in the fifth game. Rumor has it that it made him a high-ranking member of the club.”
Him? My heart rate picks up. “Have any women won?”
Elijah winces just slightly. “Uh, not that I know of.”
Of course. My hope plummets.
“Can only one person win?” I ask.
“I don’t know…” Elijah trails off. “I heard in the eighth game all the prey teamed up against the hunters. They got the weapons drop on day five and killed a bunch of the fuckheads. They almost killed them all before the game master came in and wiped them all out.”
My stomach bottoms out. “The game master?”
“Wyatt.” Elijah stares out toward the ocean. Now that the sun has risen, I can see glimpses of it sparkling through the trees. “He wears the skull mask because he’s defeated death so many times, he says he’s become it.”
He’s become death. What a pompous asshole. Immediately, I decide that I hate him.
“On day three, they drop a bunch of supplies. Food, water, medical stuff. We should try to get it.”
I nod numbly, and we go quiet, each lost in our own thoughts.
“What’s your name, Fourteen?”
I glance at him, realizing he doesn’t know. The question makes me feel oddly warm. “Holli.”
He smiles slightly. Then his look glazes over, and he gets lost again, physically present, but not mentally.
I grab a twig and force it to snap between my fingers. I have to stay awake. I start to plan. The supply drop will be a bloodbath, literally. I’m assuming that’s the point. But I also know we won’t survive long without water. And that’s the game, isn’t it? To play with our lives?
Rage fills my chest. I feel like I’ve felt the whole spectrum of emotions in the last…
however long it’s been. And when I look at Elijah, I can’t help but feel…
understanding. He’s here against his will, too.
He put his own life at risk to help me. Despite the fact that it may have meant he’d never see his sister again.
It makes the weight lift just the slightest bit off my chest.
Then, I remember something that makes me want to lie down and not get back up. The last time someone helped me in a shitty situation, they died. Connor fucking died. And now I’m feeling any level of humanity toward someone who has an even higher likelihood of actually dying in front of me?
No. This can’t be happening again. I won’t let it.
Elijah fell asleep, but I haven’t been able to. After conserving energy for about an hour, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of movement on the beach.
My chest seizes up, and I scramble to a crouch, hissing, “Elijah.”
He doesn’t move.
Scanning, I try to catch the movement again. What was it? A person? Animal? It was a few hundred feet down the beach. I shift again, looking. I don’t see it? My heart thumps in my chest so hard it almost hurts. What if it was just a bird?
Suddenly, it appears again. Much closer this time. It’s the flash of a shirt. A man with a Bear mask. Walking right toward us.
“Elijah.” I grab his leg and shake. My heart hammers.
He starts awake, eyes blurry. I’m on my feet, crouched. “Get up,” I hiss
Elijah scrambles to his feet, spinning in a circle.
The man on the beach looks our way, then starts sprinting toward us.
Fuck. I take off running into the woods, adrenaline pumping in my veins. I glance back to see that Elijah is following, but so is the man. He’s big and fast, gaining on us with crashing steps. All I hear is heavy steps, then a grunt and a thud.
Turning, I see the man on top of Elijah. A scream gets trapped in my throat, terror building in all of my limbs. He has Elijah.
The men grapple, grunting and throwing hits where they can. In a flash of white, I see the number seven stitched onto the man’s shirt.
I watch them as they move in slow motion. It feels like the whole world has stilled, and all I can see is that Elijah is under the man with the bear mask. It’s like I’m locked in a horrendous nightmare all over again. He’s going to get killed, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Blindly, I stumble toward them. One step, then another. I think someone is screaming. Clenching my fists, I focus on keeping my thumb outside of my fingers.
Connor’s smiling face flashes in my vision. ‘Don’t break your thumb.’
I swing at the man in the bear mask. I throw my entire body weight into the punch, and as I’m swinging, I notice the man is raising something above his head. A rock.
The screaming continues. It’s earsplitting. I want it to stop.
My fist slams into the man. I don’t feel anything. It’s like I didn’t hit him. Rearing back, I hit him again.
Until something hot splashes against my legs.
Looking down, I see blood. Bright red blood splattered against my pants. Slowly, I look to where it’s coming from.
Elijah’s head. There’s a crater in it, and something is wrong with his eye. Where did it go?
My ears are ringing with the screaming. And something else. A voice that sounds like it’s telling me to run.
But still, I keep punching.
No. He can’t be hurt.
‘Run, Holli.’
Now, the voice sounds like Connor in the warm tone he always used when talking about my secret job. My eyes well with tears. Connor isn’t here. He can’t be. He’s dead.
Looking down at Elijah again, I see blond hair with a white streak in it, and under it, a handsome face.
Connor.
My heart skips at seeing his familiar face again after all this time.
Then I blink, and slowly, Connor’s face contorts. His right eye is bloody, and his other eye is vacant, his mouth open.
No! No, fuck!
Connor’s blond hair disappears under red blood and turns to soft curls. When I blink again, the rock falls into his skull, and I’m splattered with more warmth. This can’t be happening again. How can the one person who was willing to protect me look like…that? I can’t. I fucking can’t.
I throw another punch.
I have to go.
There’s nothing I can do.
Another punch.
I don’t want to die.
Ripping myself away, I feel both numb and horrified. I can’t do this. I can’t live this again.
So, I start running. Running from the man brutalizing Elijah. Running from the pain that threatens to grip me again, deciding that this isn’t real. This is all just a really bad dream. I’ll wake up soon.
The forest blurs.
I’ll wake up soon. I have to.