Page 59 of Bleeding Hearts
“Love you,” she mouths.
She’s the same color, and she isn’t having a reaction, but I continue to stare as if to ensure nothing will happen when a cough suddenly rents the air. I turn to see a girl on the other side turning red.
She coughs violently, her hand going to her throat as red hives appear across her skin. Her eyes bulge as she coughs louder, clawing at her throat as she spins, looking for help. Lallygoes to move from her post, but a wrangler pulls a gun and aims it at her.
“If you intervene, then you forfeit. In this case, that means your life.”
“Lals,” I implore, and she closes her eyes and steps back. All of us are unable to do anything as the girl bumps into tables and other contestants. Her face is purple when she abruptly drops to the ground.
“Allergic reaction,” the girl at my side whispers.
I turn to Lally, who’s pale, when the wrangler, without a hint of hesitation, stops at my side. Lally looks from him to me before forcing a smile. “You can do it,” she calls. “But it’s okay, baby. You can walk away.”
That would leave her alone in this, and I can’t do that.
“Five. Four . . .”
Closing my eyes, I grab the plant and shove it into my mouth. The sharp taste mixed with dirt makes me gag, but I chew and chew, trying to force it down. It tries to come back up, and I feel my eyes burn with fear, but I swallow it repeatedly, only to gag. I turn my head as my stomach revolts, bile crawling up my throat.
Covering my mouth, I swallow my bile and stick out my tongue, still feeling queasy, but the wrangler moves on. I wrap my arms around myself, swallowing repeatedly to get rid of the sick feeling, but all I can taste is that stupid fucking plant, and I want to gag. Suddenly, something hits my feet under the table, and I look down to see water.
Lally gestures for me to drink, so I grab it and down it, thankful for her.
Wiping at my mouth, I look around to see everyone is as nervous as I was. I sip the remaining water, trying to settle my rolling stomach as the others proceed to eat. More leave, but then a man drops to the ground. We all watch in horror as he foams at the mouth, his body jerking before stilling.
“Is he dead?” the boy next to me asks.
A wrangler leans down and checks his pulse with a gloved hand before standing. “Contestant Bryant has failed.”
He’s dead.
Oh god, he’s fucking dead.
He ate a poisonous plant.
I stare at the man, unable to look away. He’s left there like garbage as wranglers step over him like he’s an annoyance. He fucking died, and they don’t care.
“Look at me, baby.” The voice catches my attention, and I drag my gaze to Lally’s, only then realizing that I’m crying. I stare at her as others complete their task, but all I can think about is that man.
His family and friends will never know.
My stomach aches and cramps, probably from the fear of seeing someone die, and I break out in a cold sweat. I discard it, knowing it’s just shock.
“Tonight’s game is concluded. You may leave now,” the voice states. “Thank you for playing Risk.”
People run for the door, and Lally rushes to my side. Taking my hand, she leads me outside, then we wait for the crowd to flee before we walk down the dirt road. “We did it,” she murmurs, relief in her tone.
I nod, unable to speak. My stomach is rebelling, and if I open my mouth, I might vomit. I don’t want her to worry, so I force it down. My skin feels too hot and too cold all at once, and my stomach cramps so badly, I want to cry.
This isn’t just a reaction to his death. This is something else.
I stop and turn to tell her when my stomach finally gives up its fight.
I spin, and vomit spews from my mouth.
“Alice!” she yells. “What’s wrong? Oh, baby.”
She holds my hair back as I puke on the side of the road, her other hand rubbing my back. “That’s right. Get it out, baby. It’s okay,” she murmurs as I continue to be sick. Snot runs from my nose, and when I go to wipe my eyes, my shaking hand catches my attention.
