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ONE
Remi
Present Day...
An explosion jars me awake. I sit straight up, disoriented and sluggish. Around me, the world is black, except for intermittent bursts of light. Something wet and tepid sleuths over my skin as rumbling thunder echoes loudly. I look around wildly, realizing I’m in the midst of a storm. My movements are slow, my body almost too numb to function, as I try to gain my bearings. Suddenly, lightning streaks the sky, illuminating a true nightmare come to life.
I’m in some sort of pit—a deep, muddied hole God knows where—dressed in the pajamas I went to bed in. Panic wells up in me, but my brain and limbs still seem to be disconnected. As quickly as it comes, the lightning dissipates, and I’m blind once more. I have no idea how long I sit there, willing myself to move, when another explosion booms. At first, I think it’s thunder, but the lightning has long since passed and no more ensues, meaning the sound is from something else.
Another flash of light flares to life, brightening the cloudy sky again, but the twinkling blue and purple colors don’t belong to the storm. They’re man-made, and my mind scrambles to understand their presence. More fireworks explode, dazzling the world as I stare across the pit and lock eyes with a familiar green pair—the angry, dangerous boy from Oakwood Prep. Except, he doesn’t look so intimidating now, his face just as confused and scared as I feel.
The fireworks disperse into the darkness, and I wrap my arms around my shivering form, having gained more movement back. It appears to be night, but even with that and the storm, it’s not cold. No, I tremble from shock and something more—the innate knowledge that this isn’t a dream, no matter how hard I try to convince myself. Time trickles by and the numbness on my extremities gradually releases. Exhaling in relief, I stretch in experiment, glad to be in control of myself once more when another explosion rocks the ground.
It’s similar to the one that jolted me from my sleep and isn’t the product of lightning or a firework. Screams bleed into my ear, piercing and heart-stopping. Lightning carves another jagged scratch against the sky, and I see the pit is full of people who look my age. Some, I note, are students from the assembly the day before.What in the holy fuck is going on?As if the universe hears my question, a blaring voice rends the air, answering me.
“Rise and shine, everyone! This is your headmaster and director of this little game, Principal Windsor. I want to formally welcome you all to Bitterwood Prep!” My nose wrinkles in bewilderment as I instinctively clutch at the fabric of my pajamas. What the fuck is Bitterwood? I didn’t sign up for Bitterwood Prep. I’ve never even heard of it. All my life I’ve wanted to find my way to Oakwood Prep, and I finally managed to get in. To have it taken out from under me without my consent is infuriating, and a bit confusing. I don’t even know how I got here. “Now, I bet you’re all wondering where you’re at and what’s going on, but I’ll explain more of that when you get to the actual school—if you live, that is. See, you’re in what I like to call ‘The Pit of Trials’. Not all of you will make it safely across the quarter-mile obstacle course to Bitterwood, and only the best of the best will survive. Which is what Bitterwood Prep is all about—the best—the rest of you will die like the worthless little heirs and heiresses you really are. Good luck!”
I stare in horror, not believing a single word the man has said until yet another explosion causes the earth to quake. This time, the sound detonates on the other side of the pit, making dirt and roots fly into the air, biting into my exposed flesh painfully.A bomb.The second my brain computes the danger, I push off the ground, my feet tripping in the muck with my haste, my limbs still sluggish, confirming what I know to be true—I’ve been drugged. I can’t see a thing, but my every movement is one born of instinct and the need to survive. Pushing past other students, I make my way to the walls of the pit.
Clawing viciously up the sides, I scale my way ascending the muddy slope. Fireworks pop, as if celebrating this delirium, but I’m grateful for their colorful glow that helps me navigate upward. As the youngest member of a very outdoorsy family, I’m no stranger to getting my hands dirty—or proving my worth. Four competitive and overbearing brothers have honed me into being the best, even though you wouldn’t think it by looking at me. Many people underestimate the daughter of the Remington legacy, but they are fools.
I showed them—just like I’ll show Mr. Windsor.
A few times, I slip back down, but eventually, my hands clutch the lip of the edge. My heart beats painfully inside my chest as I cling on desperately and try to find purchase with my feet. Savagely stabbing my toes through the layers of grime, I gain enough leverage to hike my right leg over the slippery ledge. Tears of relief mingle with the pelting rain as I wrench my body out of the pit. The familiar, heady sensation of victory sweeps through me until I hear a voice cry out behind me.
“Help!”
Looking back down, I squint, trying to see through the dark storm. Another explosion bombards the giant hole in the ground, and I lose my footing, falling hard into the mud. Luckily, I don’t stumble back down the side of the pit. The same voice weakly calls out for help again just as lightning sparks overhead. For the briefest moment in time, the face of my dorm mate—Bianca—glimmers in the chaos going on. Her face blanches in recognition when our eyes connect. Warring with myself internally, I finally crouch down and offer a hand as yet another blast vibrates around me.
The jolt makes Bianca skid out of reach, and I swear I can taste her desperation—that cloying flavor of hopelessness mixed with defeat. She struggles to regain her footing, making her slip even further away. Fireworks fracture the night, giving me enough light to calculate the distance between Bianca and me. Something insidious slithers into my heart and squeezes when I acknowledge the only way to help her is to get back into the pit. Something Ican’tdo. Going back in will seal my doom.
In the fading glint of the firecracker’s sparkle, I retract my hand. Bianca’s eyes widen in understanding, and her face contorts into despair as her lips quiver. Hastily, I get up and pivot away, but the image of her silently pleading for aid will forever be seared into my brain. My guilt knows no bounds, but the reality is only one of us can survive and that person is going to beme. Bianca fades from my mind as I dash forward, brushing past trunks of old trees and leaping over fallen branches. I have no clue which direction I should be going, but in the distance, I spy a light. It calls like a beacon, and I pray it’s Bitterwood Prep.
Barely conscious of my movements, I sprint until a gnarled tree root tangles around my bare foot, tripping me. The weight of my body creates enough force to propel me a few steps before I fall down. My teeth rattle inside my mouth as my face connects with the mud once more. A snarl of frustration escapes my lips as some of the dirt mixes with my saliva. I spit the foul taste out, pushing onto all fours. Next to me, I bump into something cold and hard. Before I can even hazard a guess, whatever it is shudders to life before snapping upward.
I pant, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. My brain scurries to find an answer—to make any sense of what’s happening—when fiery lightning clashes with giant, purple fireworks. The two colors complement one another against the backdrop of the cloudy night sky, mesmerizing me for a moment as I gaze at it through a canopy of leaves. Not until the gleam of something shiny catches my eye that my trance is broken. Sitting next to me in the muck is a bear trap. I recoil as if it might bite while scooting as far away as possible—until I bump into another one.
My blood-curdling scream is swallowed by the black that surrounds me as my light touch springs the trap into action. I throw my arms over my head in protection as the thing snaps shut viciously. By some miracle of God, it lands nearby without harming me. I don’t feel any happiness at this bit of luck, though, because just before the brightness of the firework fades away, I see what lurks ahead for me—a trail of bear traps, poised and ready for its next victim.
Gritting my teeth in resolution, I wait for the next streak of lightning. I’m rewarded moments later when the sky erupts like the sunrise. Knowing I have mere seconds, I visually trace a path to a patch of trees where the bear traps end. Easing up, I inch forward both gracefully and with intention, just as my dancing instructor taught me. Never in a million years did I think her lessons would come in handy as a survival tactic, but here I am using them as such.
Timing the lightning and the thunder—a neat trick another tutor taught me—tells me the storm is directly overhead but I don’t know how long it will last, and I need its light. When I reach the small thicket, the air whooshes from my lungs, and I wait for more lightning to guide me. Unfortunately, even it can’t pierce into the twisted mass of branches and twigs. There’s no telling what’s inside. At the top of my worries is what this sick fuck who’s orchestrated this whole thing might have in there and at the bottom is the reminder that I have no idea where I am. Who knows what sort of creatures might be lurking under the cover of trees.
Curly, damp strands of my long blond hair pulled from my ponytail catch in the wind, and plaster against my face. Mindlessly, I brush them aside, contemplating my next move. A bolt of lightning flashes like a light bulb over my head, and I whirl around, bending over to snatch up some larger sticks. Biting my lip, I wait for more lightning before taking aim and hurling the broken piece of bark at a bear trap on the other side of the clearing.
It lands exactly where I intended. The slight jostle activates the hair-trigger jaws to compress shut. I do this three more times, neatly nullifying the principal’s traps blocking my way. Nearly giddy at my success, I lob another stick, but when it hits the bear trap, the steel components don’t jump into the air, but rather, twist sideways, bumping another trap. In return, this one goes off, touching another, causing a chain reaction that I have no way of stopping—or avoiding—as the remaining bear traps all spring to life.
Praying that my normally acute memory is correct, I lunge back into the clearing, dodging already closed traps and leaping nimbly to the other side. When the lightning strikes this time, I assess the area, smug at my feat of foiling the asshole who set it up. Being a Remington has proven useful for once, instead of being a thorn in my side. Still cautious, I inch forward, when screaming on the other side of the thicket arrests me. So far, I haven’t encountered anyone else, and I’m convinced that I'm the only one to go this way.
Briefly, I wonder what misery lies on the other side but decide it’s not my worry. Like Bianca, I shove the thought from my mind and trudge onward. The rain falls faster, in sheets driven by the wind, and the chill I didn’t feel before now seeps into my bones, urging me to go faster. No more fireworks go off to light my way and even the lightning has stopped. Without their light, my eyes adjust minimally to the darkness enveloping the world. All I can make out are shadows, but it’s enough to keep me from stepping on any bear traps.
Although I’ve won this battle, I’m wise enough to doubt the war is over. Sure enough, where the copse of trees narrows and the path of traps ends, another trail of horrors awaits. Barely perceptible in the storm, something jagged juts up a few feet from the ground in front of me, barring my way. I wait impatiently for more lightning, but whatever aid the heavens once gave me seems to be gone now. Edging around the unknown object, I strain to identify it.
Holding my breath, I creep down into a crouch. A rumble of thunder alerts me that perhaps all is not lost. The seconds tick by agonizingly slow until another thunderbolt blazes. What I could barely perceive before me now becomes illuminated by the light, reflecting from one serrated piece of glass to the next. In the instant it becomes dark, I totter back. My nails dig into my upper thighs as if to anchor me down and remind me this isn’t a dream. A part of my mind is hazy—exhausted—a lure singing to me with its siren call to just lie down and sleep.
A shrill shriek from somewhere in the vicinity prompts me back into action. From the brief flare of light, I noted patches where glass was not shoved into the dirt, but I’m no fool. Biting my lip, I devise the best course to take when someone pushes past me. I stumble back a step, yelping in alarm at the contact. Whoever it is doesn’t pay me any attention but leaps over the shards of glass and onto the small patch of land where none are sticking up. A blast sends me sprawling on my ass and something hot pierces my left calf.
Broken bits of glass and something gooey mix with the rain and bombard me. I roll over onto my stomach, once more wrapping my arms over my head. Mentally, I shout in agony as the sharp pieces dig into my flesh, carving themselves into my skin, but I keep my mouth shut and focus on breathing around the mud threatening to fill my nostrils. A burst of anger surges through me as blood seeps out of my wounds, adding my essence to this mire of death. My very being would always be in this soil, stolen from me without permission. So much has been taken from me already in a world that tries to bend me to its will, but I refuse to give up.
