Every night, when I closed my eyes, his image would be branded to the backs of my eyelids. That same smile, so gorgeous yet so deadly. Those deep blue eyes, like the treacherous oceans you find, the ones which sometimes have those desolate lighthous...
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"I said I don't believe him —"
"I saw it on your face!" I shouted at Xander. His green eyes flashed with something I couldn't catch but I dismissed it.
"Lorelei," Grace said in her soft voice, but firmly. My eyes shot to hers, and the slight betrayal I felt shone in them.
"No, Grace! Don't you see? He's doing this to try and split us up — I know how he works —"
"He said he would let one of us go!" Simon stressed, conveying reassurance through his chocolate eyes. I snorted and shook my head bitterly.
"Haven't you learnt anything from what I told you? He does this for fun. First, he'll make us compete against each other. It's each for their own, and it will come between us, so as this week progresses, our friendship will crumble! He's doing this because we are the best part of each other's lives. He wants to rip that away till we truly have nothing. And just when one of us thinks they've won, he'll kill them. And then he'll kill the rest. And no one will fucking find him, or us. That is how it will go, you mark my fucking words!" I thundered.
My friends looked at me in shock. I vaguely registered how I must have looked; standing in front of them, pacing up and down, ranting and making wild movements with my hands. Not to mention the manic, hysterical look in my eyes.
I must have looked insane.
"We get that," Xander said slowly, silkily. It calmed me down, and suddenly all I wanted was a hug, but I didn't let it show. I stood my ground and kept a stony expression stuck on my face.
"But if we don't play, our murder is guaranteed, just earlier than planned," Xander continued, reasoning with me. I crossed my arms as he said, "If we do play, we'll have time to think of a plan before the end of the week. It's the better option."
I saw his point, I really did. But they didn't see mine and that was the problem.
"You see, I understand that. But is it really the better option? Think about it: you guys are just imagining some nice little game where one of you can come out alive and you're hoping it's you. But if you look at it realistically — by the end of the week, we will be broken. Physically or emotionally — probably both. No doubt that our dignity will be demolished. And even if one of us does survive, what's the chance we'd want to live on after all that torture?
"I remember after I escaped the first time, I didn't feel happy and flowery. I felt suicidal. I didn't see the point in life. And Lazarus hadn't emotionally harmed me — at least, not directly, it was more the result of everything he did rather than him specifically targeting my mental state — but now he's going to use our friendship against us. You guys are his weapons against me and vice versa. We won't know it at first, but we'll be competing to win — it's human nature. And through that, we'll be getting further and further away from each other. He's taking everything that we have away from us and there's no guarantee that one will walk out free, so you tell me: would you rather die now, with dignity, or die later after you've been shattered to the point of no return?"
