Page 13 of The Game

Thunk.

I glare at him as I come back around to the top position. It’s easier to get through this if I remain distracted and think about all the things wrong in my life, all the things I’ve given up, and the two men I am protecting at literally any and all costs. I want so badly to leave, to tell Dick and Daniel to fuck themselves, to blow this operation up. But I’ve seen too many prominent figures of society here. I know I cannot trust the police, or the mayor, or even the fucking governor. And with the knowledge there is someone close to my twins who is willing to kill them for a few meager thousands of dollars and a shit ton of notoriety in this world, I have to play the game.

Thunk.Thunk.Thunk.

I don’t even have photos of them. Dick made me pour acid over my phone when he gave me a new one—one that tracks my every movement, one that only he or Daniel can call. I still remember the day they cornered me, showed me a live feed of Tristan and Jameson at home through a rifle scope, completely unaware of their impending deaths. I couldn’t and still can’t bear the thought of them dying, so I’d done the only thing I could; I said yes, agreed to their terms, and went home to prepare to be the actress my theater teacher told me I should be.

Thunk.

That knife comes so close to my ear the noise and rush of wind is almost deafening. The cheers triple the closer and closer the kiss of steel comes to my bare skin. It verges on ravenous, wild, hungry. The men in this crowd are deplorable, violent, unhinged in a way my twins are not.

Thunk.

Jameson and Tristan still have morals and boundaries I know they’d never cross. The things I said to keep them away, to prevent them from trying to find me, were horrible and still eat away at my stomach every moment. There is a void and a hole right in the center of me that will never again be the way it was. But as long as they live, as long as they’re moving on and forward, then I can find some solace.

Thunk.

Around and around the wheel goes. This is the most thought I’ve given to my situation since the night I left, since the night I ran and never, ever allowed myself to look back. Shock grips me as I realize just how cathartic this is turning out to be, and the tears I hold back now are reflective of how free I finally feel. Odd, since I’m strapped to a wood turn-table with knives being thrown at me, but then again, my tastes have always deviated from the norm.

But when Teddy squares off to me, chin dipped, lips parted as he stares at me from under his brow, a chill runs through me. Three knives are left in his capable hands, and my body tenses for this finale. The crowd is going insane, and as that little devilish smirk quirks up his lips, my breath ceases.

Quick as the strike of lightning, he raises his arm, face pinched in concentration as I come to the top of my circle again. All three knives release as my jaw drops, each one hitting its target that I cannot see from my angle. As I sag in relief, as the adrenaline ebbs and I crash with a pant, the crowd screams their approval.

He turns to throw his hands wide, accepting their praise, before he bows and turns back to me, taking three large strides to stop the motion and turn me right side up again.

Face to face, he’s suddenly somber.

“You good?” he says lowly, releasing one of my wrists. I’m quick to nod, not trusting of my voice at the moment. He snorts. “Good. Doubt you’ll have to play with Danny Boy tonight now.”

Confused, I feel my face scrunch up, and then warmth trickling down my wrist. Shocked, my gaze flies to my right hand, his rough palm encircled around my wrist as a trail of crimson seeps from the smallest cut on my middle finger. The sting makes itself known, and the shakes take root in my body. The urge to cry, to be comforted, to have someone press their weight into me for reassurance is so strong I almost choke on a sob, but I bite it back with a tough swallow.

“You…you did that on…on purpose?” I sputter. He snorts again, bending to release my ankles.

“Needed to bloody you up a little. Unless you like how your uncle uses you?” His eyes find mine from below as he guides my foot to the stool, and I glare.

“Shut the fuck—”

“Fine. Next time I’ll let him molest you in the hallway. Happy?”

That shuts me up as I grind my teeth together. God, why is he so confusing? What is his angle? But my thoughts are cut short when Dick himself approaches, papery hands clapping, an unhinged glint to his pale blue eyes, yellowed teeth grinning sickeningly from his detestable maw. Hate isn’t a strong enough word for how I feel about him.

Teddy stands, helping me down as my good hand grips his for support, my legs so shaky I can’t trust myself to stay upright on my own yet.

“Well done. What a dynamic new duo. We’ll shift around some acts, but on weekends, I’d like for you two to perform this,” he says, motioning to the wheel with the knives still buried to their hilts in the aged wood. My eyes snap to the side of Teddy’s face, looking for any sign that he hates Dick as much as I do. For some reason, after all that, I need him to. I need to see that he’s here for something else, that he’s not evil or vile like I initially thought.

I need a friend.

Teddy’s face goes from unreadable to open and expectant in a flash, a chameleon changing his colors to adapt to the environment for his own survival.

“Of course, sir. Alice was a great assistant.”

Even his tone is clipped, aimed to please with the undercurrents I am searching for; loathing. Fighting back the smile, my grip on his hand becomes a little tighter, and the slice on my middle finger pulses and stings. Dick’s eyes trace Teddy’s face for a moment, scrutinizing him and his intentions, before they fall to me.

“Time for our meeting, dear.”

My stomach writhes and plummets, the high from the adrenaline fading, swallowed up and consumed by his words.

“I hit her on accident. Should probably have her finger looked at to make sure there’s no tendon damage.”

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