AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes. But other victims, who were maybe not so ‘rentable,’ for lack of a better term, were placed in different situations.”
“But the purpose was always to see how much another person would be willing to suffer in order not to be the cause of someone else’s.”
“Twisted,” she whispered. “But on paper, interesting.”
“Too bad it wasn’t just on paper.”
“Too bad.”
“Okay, so which of the watchers sent us the random gifts? Like the butter or the peanuts.”
“Maybe the renters sent food gifts as sort of a demented way to say thank you. Maybe it brought them some sick sort of glee to see us eating it. Maybe some of them were trying to keep us healthy-ish so the game would continue.”
“And the other gifts? The ones that weren’t random?”
“They—or maybe just he or she, but I think more likely a he—were supplying us with items that might help us escape. Thatdidhelp us escape.”
“Like the pencil. That you used to start a fire.” He paused. “The million-dollar question is, How would someone guess you’d even know how to do that?”
“Maybe he knew I was the daughter of an electrician. I knew how to start a fire in an electrical outlet because I’d followed my dad around on jobs since I was a kid.”
He scratched his jaw. “I mean, I wouldn’t have known how to do that. A pencil, or the uses for what’s inside it, would have flown right over my head.”
“Right. It was personal. He’d researched us.”
Evan appeared slightly dubious, and so she bit her lip, trying to think of the right way to clarify this. For a moment there in the casino, it had clicked in her mind, and she didn’t think she was explaining it adequately enough, or maybe it was just that in her mind, the thoughthad been braided together with thefeeling, and she had no way to convey that part.
“What about you?” she said. “You were given that mallet. I’d guess it was approved by whoever oversaw that kind of thing because it was presented as a musical instrument to go along with our singing. But that wasn’t the true intention of the sender. And you knew it wasn’t. Maybe the person who sent it knew you’d smash your hand to get it through the bars.”
He paused as though he’d already considered her being sent a tool that would allow her to start a fire but hadn’t considered what he’d been sent. And how he’d used it. “How could he know that, though? How could anyone?”
“It was the first thing that was threatened,” she said quietly. “I saved your fingers in exchange for my virginity.”
He turned away, but not before she saw the deep pain in his eyes.
“It hurts you, even now,” she said.
“Jesus, of course it does.”
“Someone saw that. They gambled on you crushing the bones in your hand. And they were right.”
“Okay.” His voice was choked. “Okay.” He was quiet for several moments, as though weighing that possibility, letting it sink in. “A part of me relished it,” he finally said. An admittance. One she could tell was difficult for him to utter. “I felt so damn guilty for what you’d paid with for my fingers. I almost enjoyed each blow.” Unconsciously, he extended his fingers and then curled them in a fist.
Oh God.“Evan—” she said, her voice breathy.
“I know. I know I didn’t need to feel that way, but I did. Sometimes I still do.” He turned back toward her, uncapping the water and taking a long swig. “So what you’re saying is someone bet on me breaking my own hand?”
She watched him for a moment but took his cue to keep going. Keep looking at this. “Yes, but I don’t think it was a singular bet. I thinkit was one link in a ... string.” She paused as she looked down for a moment, her mind zipping through each stage of their escape, and then she raised her head. “Maybe that was it, one of the bets was whether we’d escape. Whether or not we’d manage to get free.”
He was quiet for a moment as he appeared to think that over. “So us getting free was always a possibility?”
“Probably a very remote one. The only reason we did is that we were sent an array of the exact things we needed to get past one barrier and move on to the next.”
“Damn.” He gave his head a small shake and raised his brows. She could see by his expression just what he thought, and she agreed—it was a lot, and her brain hurt too. “I mean, there would have to be rules, right? Like you couldn’t just send a gun on our food tray? Whoever helped us—whoever made that bet—would have to strategize and plan and then hope we’dgetit without being told.”
“Yes. Which would mean our entire escape was choreographed, in a way.”
“Who, though? What type of person could do that? But wouldn’t call for help for us?”
