Wicked Games

Annie

It was an open secret why Summer's family had moved to the village three years earlier. Mr. Moore was in prison. Mrs. Moore and her children needed a fresh start where no one knew any of Mr. Moore's victims. His crimes tainted them. Even when they came to Switchstowe, the family couldn't escape it.
 
No one openly said anything, but people would whisper about it. They treated them differently, as Mr. Moore's evilness was infectious.
 
Mrs. Moore worked from home, making candles, and shipping them all over the country. She left the house twice a week. Once to go food shopping and once to visit Mr. Moore every Saturday. She had almost successfully shut herself off from the world. Her children couldn't.

I didn't care what Summer's dad had done. Although I'll admit, one night, I googled his name.

He drugged ten people over the space of two years. While they were unconscious, he'd take a piece of flesh from their backs. Six bled out and died. Four lived; during his trial, Mr. Moore said, "I needed a hobby." It was his explanation for why he had done those things. 

Before his arrest and imprisonment, he seemed like the average person. He was happily married with three kids. He played football on Saturday with his friends and worked a nine-to-five job during the week.

Summer wasn't him. I cared about her and who she was. For three years, I was happy. Our friendship flourished like a nurtured plant. Then we started playing truth, lie, and dare again.

While the rest of the world looked at his children like they were murders in the making, I didn't. Summer wasn't him. I cared about her and who she was. For three years, I was happy. Our friendship flourished like a nurtured plant. Then we started playing truth, lie, and dare again. 

The rules were simple. Give both the truth and a lie in response to a question, and the other person must figure out which was the truth and which was the lie. Then, either do a dare or face the consequences. The punishments were harmless and juvenile. Drinking a vile beverage or putting muck all over your face are two examples that come to mind.

After receiving a birthday card from her father, Summer needed to be cheered up. On the front of the card was Happy Sweet Sixteen with some balloons; she had turned seventeen. I'm unsure which upset her more: the card itself or that he didn't know how old she was. Summer had loved him once before he went to prison.

Her two younger siblings were too young to remember him before prison. He was there one moment and then wasn't the next.

Mr. Moore became someone they sometimes visited in prison. They had only ever known that version. 

Summer didn't have that luxury. She knew the version of him that taught her to swim, plaited her hair, and made embarrassing Dad jokes at restaurants.

I think she missed who he once was and hated him for what he had done.

"Let's play a game," I suggested. I had wanted to distract Summer from the birthday card; more selfishly, I had wanted her to stop moping. When she was in a bad mood, so was I. It was like our moods and souls were one. As we sat on beanbags in the garden on that beautiful sunny mid-August day, in my mind, nothing sinister could harm me in weather like that. Not when the world was so alive and beautiful. "Let's play truth, lie, and dare. We haven't played forever. "

"It's a bit childish," Summer said. She twisted the ring on her middle finger around. She always did it when she was unsure about doing something. I often wonder if anyone else picked up on that trait or if I alone did. 

"I promise you it will be fun."

Summer could talk me into doing things I didn't want to do, but it worked both ways. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Come on then, but you're going first."
 
"What's the worst thing you have done?" Summer asked with a grin. I knew she was expecting something tame. I am Annie Fletcher, sweet and caring, innocent and kind. That's how the world saw me. It's how they still see me. 

"I started the rumour about Lily Olive sleeping with Brett and created a fake Twitter account pretending I was his girlfriend Ashely to send Lily abuse," was my first answer. "When I'm bored, I sometimes steal from the corner shop." 

"You are too sweet for either, Annie, but I'll say the second one is true," Summer told me after thinking for a moment or two.

Both answers were the truth. That's how you win the game. Don't lie.

People swallow lies like spoonfuls of sugar, but never the truth.

I'll never understand why I stole things, but I did what I did to Lily, Ashley, and Brett because they were bullying Summer. They needed to pay for it.

Ruining Lily and Ashely's shallow friendship was easy; breaking up Ashley and Brett was harder. But I did it.

"You know me so well. I hope your dare is better than that question, "I answered her with a soft smile, laughing when she threw a handful of grass at me.

Summer dared me to write a letter to Mr. Moore claiming she was dead. I did, but more than once, I've thought about how different things would be if I hadn't.

Summer wanted to hurt him, make her dad feel the grief his victims' family felt.

I wanted to make her happy. So I wrote the letter in my best handwriting with her hovering at my side telling me what to say. 

Mrs. Moore was in the kitchen making dinner. Jamie and Eve were in the living room watching cartoons. Neither Summer nor I knew that sending that letter would cause one of them to die. 

Neither of us could have predicted the many deaths that would follow.