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Out of all people, why did it have to be her?They had said he was barely alive when they pulled him from the crash.
It was too unfair, too cruel. The games had been part of my reality for as long as I could remember, but somehow normal, everyday life had seemed much more brutal.
I walked throughout the house, noticing that Dylan was no longer passed out on the couch.
I was glad. I didn’t know if he would be pissed that we had left him, but in all honesty, I didn’t have the energy to talk to him. All I wanted to do was yell. To scream at the world and demand answers.
There would be no coming back from this.I just knew it. Something in my gut told me that it would be almost impossible to get close to Vic again after this.
I walked around the house aimlessly, not too sure where I was going, just that I couldn’t stop moving. Because the second I did, all the painful memories of Vic’s face would slam right back into me.
Rolling my shoulders, I made my way to the garage, knowing there was at least one cold beer there waiting for me. I didn’t normally condone drinking to drown your feelings, but I didn’t know what else to do in that moment.
I opened the creaky door to the garage, flipping on the light, though as soon as I did, I regretted my actions.
I stood there, shocked as I took in my father’s car. It wasn’t strange for it to be parked in the garage. What was strange was the state it was in. The bumper was askew, more on the right than left. I walked to the side, my blood curdling as I saw the dents and scratches that made up almost the entirety of the right side.
No. It was too much for it to be a coincidence.
But then why did Father leave like that? Why had he looked like his entire soul was crushed when she said those things about her mother?
And why was the car still dripping with rainwater?
I never thought I could hate my father more than I did, but that night solidified that some people, once they entered the games, left a part of themselves there.
Vic
If our lives weren’t on the line, this may have been a bit romantic.
The thought of killing someone should have made me feel nervous, maybe even a little sick. I certainly shouldn’t have felt like it was exciting, if not a little irritating.
I was a legacy, sure. But my parents were Ghosts. Killing wasn’t in my nature. All my life, my dad had been vocal about his distaste of the games. He hadn’t wanted this life for me.
But yet there I was, and Killer no less.
I shouldn’t have liked the way the adrenaline rushed through my veins. Shouldn’t have enjoyed the flush of power it brought me.
Ishouldhave been disgusted… but I was far from it.
Would my dad be ashamed of what I was becoming? Would he be angry that I’d become a Killer?
What about my mom?
It didn’t matter. I had no choice, once the Architects decided you were going to do something, you did it. Or the punishment would make you wish you had.
Kohl’s warm hand in mine was grounding as we made our way through the park.
It was kind of nice not to be afraid. To walk with them like equals instead of having them chase me like I was prey. I cut a look at them sidelong in their mask, the purple neon glowing ominously at me and obscuring their features.
“Hey, Vic…?” they asked, voice weaker than I would’ve liked.
I squeezed their hand. “If you have something to say, Kohl, just say it.”
“I’m—I’m sorry. About lying to you.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, stopping us just outside of the area with the games where I’d first gotten a good look at them in their mask.
“I so want to be mad at you,” I admitted. “For everything. ButI can’t. It would be unfair for me to hold this over your head.”
