“This is fucking ridiculous.”
For the first time since I've met Mark, I actually agree with something he has to say. Let me elaborate. The dear old Doc decided that in order for myself and Mark to establish a relationship that doesn't consist of ripping each other's head off, we should play this special game. Special is a key word, trust me. It's called 'The Talking, Feeling and Doing Game'. Yeah. Sounds fun, right?
Essentially, it's a game that therapists use on children to try and get them to open up about their deep, psychological issues. Another key word there. Children. We've been given a game used on children. It's beyond humiliating. Degrading, that's probably closer to what it is.
And yet, we have no choice but to do it. Because Glen is going to report back. Glen being the third guy in this story. Mark, Danny and Glen. The three things in my life that I least want, but the things that I have to learn to endure. Oh, the injustice.
“Come on, guys,” I hear him whine. “If you don't do it, then you're just going to get in trouble.”
“I don't give a shit,” Mark grumbles. “I'm not playing a kid's game.”
“It's not like it's just going to be you playing. We're all going to be playing.”
I suppose that's the one saving grace of this entire situation. It isn't just Mark and I that has to be subjected to this torturous game. The other two have to get involved too. As 'peacekeepers', if you get my meaning. And to instigate any form of compliance between the two least compliant people you could possibly imagine. So I guess I could be getting some useful bits of information out of them two. As potential blackmail material for future reference.
And they'll get nothing from me.
“It's a game for kids. And I'm 29 years old. I'm not doing this.”
“Even Alex is willing to play, mate. Can't you just...”
“I don't give a shit what she's doing. I've told you. I'm not playing.”
“You're just a pussy.”
My voice shocks them into silence, and I can feel the grin on my face as he glares at me. I don't know him in the slightest. But I clearly know how to push his buttons. And somewhere beneath my ever lingering anxiety, I get a small sense of satisfaction at the look on his face.
“Excuse me?!”
“You heard me,” I sneer. “You're nothing but a pussy. Afraid to play a game with a girl because you're just scared to lose. Where are your guts now, tough guy? Did you leave them hanging up with your balls? Hmm?”
I can see the hate ablaze in his eyes as my words sink in. In the corner of my eye, I can see Danny biting his lip, trying to control the giggle that clearly wants to escape. As much as I hate him, this gives me more satisfaction. I hate Mark more. So anything to anger him will do the job.
Mark grabs the chair to his side and slams it down in front of him. When he sits down, he leans across the table. I force the smirk to stay on my face, despite the flip of fear my stomach does. He won't win this time.
“Game on, little girl,” he snarls. I raise an eyebrow mockingly, causing his fury to burn more. He turns his glare to Glen, who looks more awkward than anyone else in the room. “Get on with it, then.”
He quickly starts to unpack the game, reading the rules to us. I'm only half listening. I don't really care how this game is played. I just want to beat Mark. Whoop his ass and hand it back to him on a silver platter. Ah, that would be so sweet...
