Die to Live *EDITING*

Brook

Brook Twenty-One

I don't remember falling asleep last night. I don't really remember much of last night besides Cam coming back into the room and throwing the steel- or iron, I can't tell which- door closed with a loud slam that shook the small ten by ten room. One wall still projected with the color blue, the same one that is marking my wrist with the number three, and one projected with the color red that matched the number two that was tattooed on Maddy's wrist.

I stared down at the glowing blue number on my left wrist before slowly running my finger over the glowing number. It doesn't itch anymore, which I guess is a positive thing. The dim glow disappears for a split second wherever my finger touches the number. I don't know how they got it to glow. I'm not entirely sure I want to know how they got it to glow.

When Cam came back into the room yesterday he didn't say anything except the word 'dog'. He slowly went back and sat in the spot he had been sitting in before he left the room, right next to Gabriella. For the next hour or so we would hear Cam go "Dog..." every ten minutes and then hear what sounded like a sob.

Eventually, poor Cam had "Dog"ed himself to exhaustion and passed out against Gabri's shoulder. No one else really talked, but there was still that question floating in the air.

What the hell did 'dog' mean?

I looked at Ashley, who sat next to me now. She had moved back over to the blue wall after she was sitting with her brother who just so happened to be tatted with the same number as her only on a different team. We all knew what that meant. Ryan would sacrifice himself for his sister whenever they had them play against each other in the maze.

I rubbed my eyes before hearing the same static noise that we've heard every morning for the last four days. That same cocky voice came out of the intercom, sounding so happy to watch more people die for their entertainment. They belong in The Capitol from The Hunger Games. They're certainly sick enough. I bet they would be Erudite if this were Divergent. They must be smart enough since they recreated a video game.

"Good morning, Players. You know what time it is. Day five of Die to Live. Anyone want to take a guess at what number we're going to call?" I glanced at my exposed wrist again and gulped. It suddenly felt like I had drank from a tube of paste, my saliva didn't want to travel down my throat when I gulped. I felt my throat tighten even more. I did not have a good feeling. "Contestant number Three! Come on down and claim your prize!"

I stared in disbelief at my tat. Not only did the Captain make his voice sound like a game show host's, he called my number. I knew I had no choice but to get up and play their wicked games. If I played their game right I would get a small bit of safety back. Outside of the door was things still unknown to me. I had aimed to keep it that way for as long as possible but that obviously didn't work out.

Clearing my throat, I shakily and slowly got up, scanning the room for someone else who was either hyperventilating or getting up as well. My eyes met with Liam's, a small groan escaped my lips. I didn't bother to slap my hand over my mouth. He knew I hated him. He knew everyone hated him.

Liam was a jock at school. If it came down to a wrestling match, I would most definitely lose. If it came to weapons he might lose. My parents had taught me to hunt with bows and guns. I knew how to shoot and I damn well knew how to aim. Liam looked broken, exhausted, and beat up. I smirked a little, seeing the remaining bruises from Ryan beating the shit out of him at the club.

A jolt ran down my spine at the thought of 'the club'. My throat kept constricting, sending me back against the wall as I gasped for air. If I had never gone to that stupid club I would have never been in this fucking mess. My eyes met Liam's again and I tried to regain my composure, standing upright and clearing my throat again.