Page 79 of The Game

“Play, Teddy. We have time,” my twin encourages. These men killed our father, our step-mother, robbed Alice of two wholesome parents, robbed us of ourbabochkaand all her beautiful innocence. Teddy’s eyes flash to us above the table as Dick’s breathing suddenly goes ragged with his mounting fear. Teddy is slipping, that much is easy to see, to recognize, for it is intrinsic in those who kill; you become a different part of yourself, close off all the good and allow the bad to seep forth.

“I was hoping you’d stay. Dick refuses to talk. I have a few things in mind that should help.”

He’s quick, gathering his tools, and on Dick’s potbelly he lays them for all to see; medical scissors, tweezers, and stitches. My heart begins to race as I draw closer, Teddy donning a pair of black latex gloves before he picks up his first tool. “Don’t get his blood on you. Who knows what shit this fucker has.”

I snort, eyeing this insane man over the one who stole our woman away from us. “And what will you do?” I ask, crossing my arms, craning my neck for a better angle. Teddy’s eyes are haunting when they flick up to mine.

“Just watch, and help me keep his mouth shut.”

Nodding to Jameson, he tosses me a pair of gloves that I quickly snap on, positioning my hand beneath his wobbling chin as he attempts to gnash his yellowed teeth at me. Subduing him is all too easy, and as Teddy wields the sutures and tweezers, his sick fucking punishment sinks in, and my smile grows all the more.

It takes time, for Teddy is annoyingly precise, something Jameson ogles over, his dick probably hard. Her grandfather’s muffled screams and thrashing of his chained limbs makes me laugh harder than I have in what feels like forever. Each stitch further forces his lips together until he looks like a fucking mummy, the sight so horrifying I’ll dream of it for years to come.

Teddy wipes his forehead with his forearm as Dick sags and attempts to stay still, his mouth closed forever, his muffled cries echoing and adding to the hopelessness of such a space. It is grisly but fucking satisfying.

“Now he cannot speak his truth,” I tease, rolling off my gloves as Teddy does the same. He simply shrugs, tossing his supplies in a bucket of antiseptic.

“He will when he rips his own stitches out from screaming.”

A chill akin to a bucket of ice being poured over my head rushes over my body, and my eyes flit to Daniel.

“We’ll be back tomorrow to make this bird sing as well, then,friend.”

CHAPTER 39

Jameson

We take longer than I think is necessary, but the gleam in Tristan’s eye somehow calms me; he’s completely in his element, and finally rooting out the truth via torture is proving fruitful. After watching his father’s lips be sewn shut, Daniel started squealing like a little piggy.

Feet gracing the landing, I can breathe slightly easier without the oppressive weight of that building upon my shoulders. The sun is beginning to set, and I frown, worried I do not see Alice.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Tristan says behind me to Teddy. Glancing over my shoulder, I roll my eyes at him. Teddy simply snorts and shrugs.

“Fine by me. Come and go as you please.”

Unable to hide my fear, I voice my concern to this strange man.

“Where is Alice?”

I doubt he knows, but maybe she had shown an inclination on where she wanted to wander. Teddy shrugs, making his way around us and to the front double doors. Following simply to get the fuck out of this creepy place, my boots crunch over bits of concrete and slide over sheets of long forgotten papers. My shoulders relax as I spot Alice by my car, but she avoids our gazes, her jaw set. I’ve seen that look before—she’s resolved to do something, and now I am less frightened of the asylum.

“How was it?” Teddy asks, lightening the mood. Alice shifts, crossing her thin arms, her round eyes softening as they find his face. Her love for him should rankle me, but in knowing what they’ve endured together, it makes sense, and it makes me ache for her in a way she will never understand.

“I found the cemetery.”

This pulls me up short, and I glance at Tristan. Little Alice was brave enough to venture into a cemetery?Alone? The very same girl who couldn’t stand horror films or dark rooms? His own eyes widen, but a playful smirk blooms on his face, further lightening the mood.

“You’re fearless,babochka. We’ll have to hire you.”

Her cheeks bleed red in the dusky sunset, and her eyes shine. My heart clenches at the sight of what his simple praise has done for her because she’s softened her shell enough to allow it. Today has been good all-around; she seems happier, and we have access to answers and vengeance.

We allow them a lingering moment to say their goodbyes, Tristan turning sour again and ducking into his car. The moment Teddy turns to stalk back into that hell, Alice makes her way to my car. Shocked, I open the door for her, waiting until she’s settled before I close it, my eyes catching Tristan’s through the glass. He’s equally as dumbfounded, for Alice has avoided me altogether and simply been angry with him.

Sinking into the driver’s seat, I crank the heat on, her familiar scent swirling around me. We drive in silence, following Tristan as the sun fully sets and casts us in a bluish glow. Alice shifts, and I am about to say something—anything—when she speaks.

“I want things to be the same, and I don’t know how to…find my way back to that.”

Her voice is as soft as the brush of butterfly wings, and my eyes fall to her; golden hair laying in thick curtains over her shoulders, her sallow cheeks finally holding a hint of life, her eyes harboring the tiniest of sparks. She’s chewing her lip, and it’s clear to see how nervous she suddenly is—the brave girl who went into a cemetery alone is now too frightened to speak with the man she used to love.

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