Page 104 of Forbidden Game

The end credits roll, but I feel nothing.

I just want to slam my fist through the monitor. But that won’t get me anything except a fucked-up hand, an upset publicist, and a trip to the med bay.

So, I do as I’ve been taught. I take a deep breath and weave a smile on my face as I turn to look at the cameras. I hold my hands up and shrug, effectively telling everyone, “Oh well.”

I tug off my headphones, and the uninhibited sounds of the crowd shock me for a second. The noise is suffocating, choking me from the inside out. I wrestle with myself to push it all away.

I turn everything off before I grab my mask and slip it on. My shoulders relax a fraction behind the safety of the blue light. I stand up and give the crowd a dramatic bow before grabbing my shit and booking it offstage.

I don’t bother looking up at the screens as I leave. I don’t want to see what my time was. I don’t want to know how much Creep defeated me by. I don’t want to know who else did better than me.

I don’t want to know what a failure I am.

I stop by the private lockers to grab my backpack and shove my stuff into it before bypassing the press area. I’m going to get an earful from Syd and Mathias, but I can’t bring myself to care. I would do more damage in an interview right now, anyway.

And a part of me tells me Syd will understand.

Nausea churns in my gut as my gray-eyed angel flashes in my mind.

Fuck, she’d been so confident in me.

But I’d screwed myself over.

Gotten so wrapped up in my own head that I’d gotten distracted.

Even if she won’t be disappointed in me, I am.

There were only two tournaments left now, and if I didn’t win at least one of them, I could kiss the championship goodbye.

I shove out the front door of the building and curse myself.

Idiot.

There are reporters everywhere, their cameras flashing in my face.

I was supposed to go through the exit where I was dropped off this morning, not here. For some unknown reason, I decide to power forward. Maybe to punish myself.

I push my way through the crowd, ignoring their questions and demands. Trying to block out their words that are jabbing into me. None of them are worse than the ones swimming in my own brain.

I don’t have a plan, but I just need to get away from them.

“Parker.”

Something about the voice breaks through barrage of people around me.

I look up and see a familiar head of blonde hair. A beacon. My head clears a little, and my feet begin pounding on the concrete as I run toward her. She opens the passenger door to a chrome Maserati. I dive in and slam the door as she rounds to the driver’s seat and immediately takes off.

The engine revs as she weaves her way farther from the arena. The rumble of the low car soothes me, bringing me back to earth.

“Well, that could’ve gone worse.”

I pull off my mask and look into the blue eyes that are a mirror of my own.

“Gee, thanks, Pheebs.”

“Just saying.” My sister shrugs as she pulls on the indicator and switches lanes.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.”

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