Page 10 of Collared

Right? It’s got to be.

“This frat—” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“Stop calling them that, they’re not some frat house. They’re a brotherhood.”

I shrug. “What’s the difference?”

“Are you even for real, dude?” He jabs a finger against my chest. Ignoring his mockery, I instinctively react, pushing him away with brutal force. He flinches, loses his balance, then snarls. “Let me tell you something. I’m going to fucking enjoy watching you get eliminated, you ignorant prick. I can’t believe they’d even consider someone like you as my competition to begin with.”

“Fuck you, bro, leave me alone.” I give him one last push, then turn and walk away. He doesn't follow, and I hike back to the dense part of the forest, back to the shadows of the trees and thick shrubs. I've barely taken a few steps when I catch the vague sound of people talking. It’s hushed, the melody sounding relaxed as if whoever out there is just chatting and having a good time. For the briefest of moments, I feel relieved, wanting to move back to the trail with my figurative white flag, and tell whoever’s out there that I'm calling it a night.

“Fuck,” the other participant swears, the sound hushed under his breath. It’s enough for me to dive away immediately between the shrubs, heart rate picked up in no time. My face feels warm with sweat that tickles my flushed skin from behind the silk and my heart pounds rapidly in my ribcage.

Two Venetian masks have made their appearance out of the darkened forest, and now stand there on the trail, their cloaks fluttering around their legs, their attention solely focused on the other participant. Caught like a deer in headlight, nothing like the arrogant fuck he was just two minutes ago, he swears again.

They smile in return. It’s the cruelest smile I’ve ever seen. They’re about to catch him, and they know it. For a second, no one moves. I press myself deeper into the grass as I try to register the colors of their masks. It’s too dark to be sure, but the treacherous flutter in my stomach is enough to tell me that Silver Mask is one of them.

He's too close. But right now, I can’t escape.

“Help!” The other participant calls out. His gaze is blindly searching for mine through the darkness, and the survivor in me feels like punching the asshole’s face for ratting me out like that. My human side feels his invisible, outstretched hand burning through the plants, as if trying to connect with me. I can’t believe this is the second time tonight I’m finding myself in this situation. I swallow, the heavy feeling of guilt settling in the pit of my stomach as I start crawling back, no longer caring about smudging my uniform, to create a bigger distance between us. Through the shrubs, I catch sight of the glittery flicker of a knife, and my breath hitches.

I don’t see what happens next, but I can hear the other participant sob, can hear him mumble something before he runs away, only to yelp again when he’s undoubtedly caught.

“I wanted to win!” He yells shrilly. “I should win! There’s another guy out there who hasn’t even read the document. He has no clue why he's here!”

Grinding my teeth at those words, I turn around on hands and knees and crawl to the nearest tree, filtering out the sounds around me.

I guess survival brings out the worst in people. He didn’t have to betray me like the little shit he is, and I could have stood up for him. Perhaps we could have taken them, together. But then, those are not the rules of this game, right?

I roll myself around the tree, making sure to keep out of sight. And then I lean against it, my back colliding with the cool wood of the trunk, its sensation grounding me. Behind me, sounds are coming from the trail. The other participant is no longer yelling, his voice has dimmed to a breathy whine, accompanied by another, lower voice. No doubt the guy with the golden mask. I can’t decipher what he says, but those sounds… I blink into the darkness, trying to close my mind for the echo of slapping skin, followed by more gasps, then moans.

So, he was right.

When you get caught, you get fucked. My chest constricts at the thought and I hate myself for my traitorous body as it heats and grows more rigid in the darkness.

There must have been some rule in that NDA stating that rape is not allowed. My hardening cock throbs in my pants. I think of those full lips and once more, something ignites in my body.

But it wouldn’t be rape, would it?

Does it hurt to get fucked?

Deceitful flutters invade my stomach and I snarl at myself, internally dismissing the thought. Not going to happen.

One hour. I can last for one more hour.

I take in a deep breath and concentrate on the way my ribcage expands, needing to feel my nerves and muscles strain with every puff of air that floods through my system.

That means that this guy is now eliminated. I don’t know about the other ones, but I’m still here. So for now, let’s just assume, that there’s one down, two to go.

4

THUREL

For a while there's nothing else but the sound of my own steady puffs of air and the gentle rise and fall of my chest.

In. Out. In.

The forest is peaceful at last, the shrubs and trees blanketed in obscurity. It really is beautiful out here.

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