The X Games

Newt

   I don't know how many days it's been since it happened.

   I'm just willing to forget it happened at all.

  I rolled over, facing the wall next to the living room couch. I never understood why it was called the living room, because anything I do there is definitely not considered living. If anything, it could be called "Waying". 

  I definitely have not been living or Waying lately.

   My stomach grumbles, and I realize that I haven't eaten in days. Weeks, even. Okay, maybe not weeks, because then I'd be dead. 

   I'd be better off dead anyways.

   I pushed myself off the couch, my muscles screaming as I finally stood, the bruises on my body protesting. But I had to eat something if I wanted to be able to form a plan for ending myself.

   If I was lucky and one of the Leaders didn't see me before I did it. 

   I drag myself towards the kitchen, blinking furiously when I flick the light on. I've been so used to the darkness I forgot what the light was like.

   Oh, well. I better get used to the darkness.

   As I get out the bread from the pantry that's probably expired since the last time I used it, something on the kitchen counter catches my eye. It's bright white, and an eyesore compared to the black counter.

   I dump my bread on the counter and pick up the white thing that caught my eye. As I pick it up, I realize it's an envelope.

   I grab the nearest knife from a drawer and rip the envelope open with it. The knife clatters to the floor, temporarily forgotten as the letter inside silences any previous thoughts I had.

  I glance at the clock and suck in a sharp breath. The daily train leaves at three o'clock, and it's two now. I can catch it. That is, if I want to go. 

   Do I want to make something out of the last few days of my life?

   What a ridiculous question.

   I open the bread and quickly begin to make my sandwich. Of course I'm going.

   What do I have to lose?