Page 11 of Stream & Scream
"Such a shame though," Tara continues, tilting her head with fake sympathy. "Riley was just trying to be nice, offering to team up with you. Most girls would kill for that kind of protection."
"Most girls," I reply evenly, "don't know how to protect themselves."
They exchange a look that's probably supposed to be subtle but reads as obvious as a billboard. Here we go.
"You know," Lexie says, her voice taking on that particular tone that mean girls have perfected since middle school, "it's really sad how some people mistake aggression for strength. Like, we get it—you're trying to play the tough girl character for your viewers. But this is real life, sweetie. Out here, attitude only gets you so far."
"Especially when you're all alone," Tara adds, her fake concern dripping like honey off her lips. "I mean, look at you. Sitting by yourself, talking to your camera like it's your diary. It's honestly kind of pathetic."
They're baiting me, trying to get a reaction that will make good content for their streams. Two million followers, Tara had said earlier. This is probably the most attention either of them has gotten in months, and they're milking it for all it's worth.
"Beta bait," Lexie says, and Tara giggles like it's the cleverest thing she's ever heard. "That's what this is. Some people just aren't cut out for alpha energy."
Their wrist cameras blink steadily, red recording lights capturing every manufactured insult for their audiences. Ican practically see the comments flowing in real-time—endless numbers of strangers judging, analyzing, taking sides in a conflict that exists purely for their entertainment.
I look directly into Lexie's camera, then Tara's, making sure both feeds capture my expression clearly.
"You know what's actually pathetic?" I say, my voice calm and steady. "Two grown women who think high school social dynamics are going to help them survive in the wilderness. But hey, you do you. I'm sure your followers are eating this shit up."
I turn away from them deliberately, focusing on my fire and the stream beyond. Dismissal is sometimes more devastating than engagement, and I can feel their frustration.
"Whatever," Lexie snaps. "Enjoy your little pity party. Come on, Tara. Let's go."
They stomp off into the darkness, their voices fading as they move deeper into the forest. I listen to their retreat until they’re gone, then add another log to my fire.
Alone again. Finally.
The forest settles around me, broken only by the gentle sound of running water and the occasional pop from my fire. This is better. No fake alliances, no scripted drama, no one trying to turn me into their content. Just me and whatever the night decides to throw at me.
The temperature is dropping as the sun disappears behind the trees, and I pull my blanket around my shoulders. The fire provides warmth and light in this dark abyss.
I'm just starting to relax when a blood-curdling scream cuts through the forest.
It's not a scream of surprise or excitement. This is pure terror, raw and primal and absolutely real. The sound of someone who has just encountered something that their mind can't process, something that has activated every survival instinct they possess.
The scream goes on for what feels like forever, rising and falling and finally cutting off with an abruptness that makes my stomach twist with dread. Then silence. Complete, total silence that feels heavier than the scream itself.
My fire suddenly feels inadequate against the darkness pressing in from all sides. The forest that seemed almost peaceful moments ago now feels malevolent, full of shadows that could hide anything.
If I didn’t know this was a TV show, I’d think that was someone dying…
My hands shake as I add more wood to the fire, building it higher, brighter, trying to push back the darkness. The wrist camera continues blinking its steady red light, recording my fear.
A prerecorded male voice comes over the intercom system. “FATALITY.”
I pull my blanket tighter and stare into the flames, listening to the silence that follows and wondering what else is out there.
Wonderingwhoelse is out there.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jaxen
Night one
The kill is quiet, but not bloodless. I wouldn’t want it to be. Naomi’s lips are still parted, like she died mid-prayer. There’s some brittle whisper of“please”caught between her teeth.
As if someone up there was fucking listening.
