Page 9 of Trapped

I’m going to stay here, and sit my time out. Voilà, that’s it. My head lolls to one side in reply. Not from fatigue, but from something else.

“Keep it together, Robin,” I tell myself. Closing my eyes, I imagine telling Dad that I’ve made it into their precious little men’s club. Hah! Look at that!

But right now, the thought doesn’t make my heart swell with pride. Right now, I’m feeling miserable. So I do the only thing I guess is right. I scramble up once more and sweep a hand over my pants. It’s too early to surrender. Drugged or not, I will survive the next hour and a half.

3

ROBIN

Staggering through the bushes, I try to keep as close to the sand trails as possible since they are lit up by beacons. Over here, the forest is quiet, though quite frankly, I don’t know where here is. I lost my way a long time ago.

I barely remember which direction I took after I was told to run. I just did as I was instructed, without even looking back to see if I was being followed.

By Copper Mask.

Is he the one who chose me? And if so, why? Do we know each other? Licking my lips, I try to defend myself from the thoughts that have been haunting me from the day I was summoned toward my altered life. The day I was requested to sign that NDA.

I’m good at that, usually. Good at blocking my feelings, keeping my heart at a respectable distance from everything and everyone.

But right now, I’m not good at blocking out any unwanted thoughts. My brain is in tatters, and my traveling legs can’t seem to bring me home.

Je suis perdu. Perhaps quite literally. Lost my way in life. Resentment is my middle name. For everything I can’t do, regardless of my passion, for everything they won’t let me be, because of the loser I am, and for everything I apparently can’t become, despite my determination.

Like becoming part of this fucked up brotherhood.

I think of the rider and his horse. Of the terrified cry of that participant. Olivier. Of B’s collected and distant behaviour.

How far would you go to change your destiny?

How far will I go?

I want to remember the details those two men exchanged during my summoning in their office in the South Wing. Nothing stood out, aside from that arguable document that I signed. And now I wonder why I did.

Vengeance. That’s why I signed those damn papers. It’s what I feel every day when I climb those double-spiral stairs and follow the narrow halls. When I glance at the endless framed photos of posh, stuck-up kids in uniforms who smile dutifully at the camera. It’s what I feel when I sit my classes out, only to head out for the library afterwards to spend my entire night in there. When I enter the cafeteria and occupy my usual corner where I sit with the same unnoted group of strangers who hang out on the same spot. They’d rather hang out with my snarky self than be alone. When I avoid looking at that noisy table in the center of Monterrey’s existence—the table of the elite of the elite. The super rich. None of us do, it’s an unwritten rule. Stay away from them, and if you’re lucky, they’ll stay away from you. Although…

“And if I’m eliminated, I still get to be fucked by one of the elite.” B’s words left a damn hole in my brain that’s filling up with a ton of questions.

Fucked?

I’m not getting fucked by no guy, that’s for sure. I’m not into guys. Not into girls either, to be honest. Although I’ve been involved with a few girls before, at the academy. Nothing serious, but a guy needs to experiment a little, right?

The elite.

I think of that table in the cafeteria once more, then lift a listless hand as if swiping the thought away. None of that matters. Not now. All that I need to do now, is find a place where I can lay low, and preferably not hit the ground before I do so.

The sand trail breaks up in two separate directions, and from my spot in the shadows I contemplate my options. I think I came from my left side, though right now, I’m unsure. I’m unsure of everything. Though I refuse to be lost.

Flicking my finger out, I mutter, “Am Stram Gram.” Eenie, meenie, miney moe.

Left. Right.

Tick. Tock.

My ears buzz a little sharper and I wince at the sensation.

“I’ll take a left, fuck it.” That way I can stay on this side of my hiding spot.

Staggering forward, I keep my balance by clutching my hands to the solid tree trunks before wobbling to the next one. My lips start to feel dry, and my face itches behind silk. I should just take it off, despite that old man’s warning.

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