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Kohl
I’m coming for you, little rabbit.
“What?” I snapped.
There are too many fucking people here.
The man in the wicket sneered, his crisp white uniform buttoned to the top of his throat, tucking away the ends of his quivering jowls.
It was like I’d insulted his dead mother or something.
The excited murmurs of the people in the line floated around me. The entire island was just vibrating with anticipation of what was to come as soon as the sun fell.
“Hiding orseeking?” he repeated, impatience threading his tone.
My eyes lingered on his gnarled hands where they clutched my plastic ID card.
I didn’t have long to choose.
No big deal. It wasn’t like this was life or death or anything.
Except that itwas.
There were few moments in my life when it felt like I was speeding toward them, only for time to come to a screeching stop when they finally arrived.
The last big game of the football season.
Getting my license.
Graduation.
And nowthis.
Signing up to compete in the Devil’s Playground.
The Games,to anyone with half a brain. That’s all they really were anyway—games to entertain the filthy rich and to give the desperatejustenough hope to keep going. Keep working. Keepplaying.
Play hard. Die famous.
“There’s a line, kid. You playing or not?”
I looked between the man and the black tent behind him, specifically angled to block contestants from seeing what awaited them in the arena. It was different every round. A new, fucked-up backdrop for stories of plucky underdogs and gruesome murders to keep viewers entertained.
I had gotten a glimpse of the looming island on the train ride over. A sort of fog-like cloud had covered it. As if the universe decided to join in the spectacle of it all.
The fog had slowly fallen to the ground, weaving between the players and chilling the air. It was the perfect setting for the disgusting crimes that would be committed inside the walls.
But what wouldIbe? A coward or a monster?
Absentmindedly, I gripped the worn friendship bracelet around my wrist.
He snapped his fingers in front of my face, making me start. When my eyes flicked to him, he was already pulling his arm back through the slot. “Hiding or seeking?” Impatience licked through every syllable.
I couldn’t blame him, not really. He had a ticking clock before the first event started and a long line of participants to get checked in.
I would’ve already registered if I’d decided to play before last week.
But I didn’t, so here I was with the unwashed masses. Entering the games like a desperate loser.
