VOLATILE (I) : peter pan ouat

When a Shock Happened

When Shock Happened

Day: 18

"He says it's going to happen soon." I say. "The Game."

Harry shakes his head. "It's not."

It was daggers today. I think the dagger is what I'm best at, and Harry thinks so too. We've been practicing with it quite a bit compared to the other weapons. Harry hasn't even let me glance at the club and the spear yet; the heavy items being completely off limits to me.

"How would you know?" I ask, following him back to camp.

He shrugs, unsure. I guess no one really knows anything for certain here. Guesses and estimates are nothing compared to facts. Arguing with Harry is not something I ever want to do, so I just drop it.

"How has Devin been holding up on his own?" He asks.

I shrug my shoulders. The past few days Devin has just been glaring at me out of the corner of his eyes. As if I could care more or less; Devin is nothing but a screw-up. He can keep doing laundry for ever. I am getting out of here, and I am doing it sooner rather than later.

"As if you or I care more or less either way." I laugh.

He looks at me funny but continues walking. "He's still a person."

"He attacked me."

"You attacked Johnny."

"Johnny deserved it."

"Did he?"

Did he?

That's not a question I feel like asking myself today. Or ever, for that matter. I tend to act first and ask questions later, but now, I'd rather just never find the answers. Hard truths are just that, hard.

"Okay Mom." I tell him.

He rolls his eyes. "I'm just saying, try to put things in perspective. Devin is, after all, just a boy like you."

"He is a century older than me." I argue. "I'm not outright attacking or belittling him. I'm not Kiki."

He rolls his eyes. "Not yet."

Before I can argue a painful screech irrupts from in front of us. We look between each other and take off towards the camp. Harry trips and falls.

"Keep running!" He yells.

I hadn't stopped.

Should I have?

I get to the camp and see a few boys in front of me. Keaton is one of them. He spits blood out on the ground, making sure to avoid it from getting on his clothes. I almost want to thank him; even if his actions are vain they are saving my precious time. Blood is a pain to scrub out.

Across from Keaton is Marcus, with blood trailing down his forehead and dripping on to his grey shirt. He's wearing dark green cargo pants that are ripped with blood seeping through. I am definitely going to have to wash those. As if I needed more reason to dislike Marcus.

Marcus tackles a third boy, who is much taller and broader than he is. Despite all odds, Marcus manages to bring the boy to the ground.

The third boy is Johnny.

I rush in, sending Marcus backwards off of Johnny, pulling my dagger out from my pocket.

"Who do you think you are?" I spit, kicking Marcus in the stomach. "And what do you think you are doing?"