Page 22 of Deviant

Everyone wants to live.

It’s human nature to want to survive.

I, on the other hand, would actually feel relieved if my name was chosen this season.

That way, at least, I’d find the closure I’ve been looking for.

“Has anyone ever won the games and stayed?” I ask, the moving pieces in my head starting to clasp in place.

“Only one that I know of,” he replies with a yawn, slithering down to the floor and making himself comfortable.

“Who?” I insist before he falls asleep on me.

“Who else? The priest.”

“You mean, old man O’Sullivan?” I ask in amazement.

Joe nods, closing his eyes.

“I didn’t know he was in the games, much less won one,” I whisper more to myself than to Joe. “Is that why he’s so—”

“Fucked up in the head? Wouldn’t you be if you witnessed all your friends die at the hand of some twisted fuck?”

I press my lips into a thin line.

He’s right.

No one could have experiencedThe Scourgeand not have a few bolts loose afterward.

Father O’Sullivan is… not all there.

Aside from the priesthood robes he wears, he’s not really fit to give out any sermons. In fact, all he does is walk around Hollow Church, ring the bell incessantly, and tend to the cemetery in the back. Sometimes, when he’s on one of his psychotic breaks, he’ll go as far as walking around town just to throw holy water at people. Every town has that one crazyperson that is part of its culture—ours just happens to wear a Roman collar.

“Rowen!” I hear my dad call behind me.

“That’s your cue, girlie,” Joe says before turning his back on me to settle in for the night. “Tomorrow night, same time, yeah? Maybe get some of those glazed doughnuts from Rosie’s I like so much.”

“Or you could go one night without being a menace and sleep in your own bed instead of a cell’s floor?” I retort, getting up to my feet.

“Nah. One thing I’ve learned is that there is no safer place to be than in this jail cell right here. A man with no secrets has nothing to be fearful of. I’d rather get caught by Hank and the whole town find out what I’ve been up to than have my name showcased on a screen by Davenport.”

A cold shiver runs down my spine at the ill-thought.

I used to have nightmares about my name being called out in the town square by Mayor Davenport.

But those nightmares changed as I grew older.

They morphed into ones where I feared seeing Nora’s name pop up more than mine.

How ironic that now… I’d give anything to see her name written just about anywhere.

“Goodnight, Joe.” I wave off, my old friend already closing his eyes, ready to get some shuteye.

Hmm.

Maybe the real reason why Joe gets into so much trouble isn’t because of some imaginary loophole he thinks he’s discovered but because the sheriff’s station is the only place he feels safe.

Safe enough to rest his head and sleep.

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