Selena
I was distinctly reminded of prison as I ate with my new accomplices in the canteen. Twenty six had survived the first round and many were divided into groups like ours. I was agitated, wanting to slip away to my room and avoid spending too much time with the girls. I couldn't get attached to them. I didn't want to experience the loss and the pain of the last game ever again.
My eyes strayed to a girl across the table with auburn hair and pinched features. She was trembling like a leaf, gazing at a plate of food she hadn't touched.
“Is she alright?” I breathed to Thames who shrugged.
The door suddenly burst open and two broad men in riot gear appeared with guns slung over their shoulders. “Jennifer Luftwait, please come with us to the Redeeming where you will have the opportunity to increase your rating.”
The auburn-haired girl wailed, launching out of her seat and springing away from the men. They charged her down and everyone else in the room seemed to freeze, watching as she was pinned to the ground. The men dragged her up, pulling her across the room as she sobbed and begged for mercy.
My heart skidded across my chest. I could hardly breathe as Jennifer was manhandled out of the room.
“I heard her rating dropped to a one,” Twyla said, scowling.
“What do you think happens in the Redeeming?” Eesha whispered.
“Don't want to know,” Veta said, standing and heading away.
My gut twisted violently as I tried not to picture all the terrible things that could await Jennifer.
When the tension in the room began to subside, I couldn't find it in me to join the discussion around me about tomorrow's round. All I felt like doing was curling up in a ball in the dark, so I soon made my excuses and slipped away.
A long soak in the Jacuzzi tub banished the cold from my body, but despite my best efforts at trying to feel more normal, my mind wouldn't let me escape the games. My newfound friends, though useful to have around, were all capable of doing things to survive that could equal the death of another contestant. And I couldn't lose sight of that.
When we were chucked out onto the battleground tomorrow, I would be more than willing to spend time with them. But we weren't friends. This wasn't some holiday camp where lifelong memories would be made. Well, not the kind I wanted to relive anyway.
My thoughts were drawn back to Varick, as they often were. Why had I placed myself in danger for someone I hardly knew? Someone who, for all intents and purposes, wanted nothing more than blood to appease him. My blood. Another girl's. Did it matter? It mattered to me. Thinking of Varick drinking from other girls, knowing the cruel way life would spring into his body, reminding him of his humanity, was painful. Every drop brought him closer to clarity, which must have been pure misery. Aware of what he was capable of, but only after he'd done something terrible.
A new feeling was nagging at me, too. Above all my desire to save Varick, to give back what I owed him, there was something stronger driving me. I missed him. Truly, I knew he was the only person that could banish my fear. Who would make the world seem light again.
When I was warm and dry, sliding beneath the thick quilt of my bed and scrunching my toes into the soft sheets, I succumbed to the feeling. It seemed the longer I was absent from him, the more my heart pined. Silly really. I hardly knew anything about him. And I didn't need to be reminded that he wasn't human, that he craved my blood intensely, and that he may not have even thought of me since I left Raskdød. But, no matter what, tomorrow I had to try and find him.
Minutes slid by as I lay in bed, anxiety ticking through me. The evenings were the worst time of day; somehow even worse than the games themselves. The anticipation, the nightmares crawling over my skin of what could lay ahead tomorrow. The rounds were always terrifying, but my imagination beforehand reeked a worse kind of havoc on me. Being in the game pushed all the anxious thoughts away; I had to act in the moment, to survive. And surviving was something I was growing increasingly good at. Even though I knew whatever I did would haunt me thereafter.
Eventually, I stood, needing to distract myself with something, sliding from beneath the comfy sheets into my beautiful prison. Silk and silver greeted me around the room. Luxury gazed at me from every gilded mirror, every plump cushion and iron cast bust of the Helsings' faces placed in each corner of the room. I was like a forged painting amongst the finery; looking the part in every way until someone scratched the surface and the paint came off on their finger.
The white slip I was given to sleep in was nothing short of revealing. And that gave me the creeping feeling that I wasn't entirely alone in this room. Perhaps the Helsings eyes were on me now, the spectators' too. I prayed their invasion of my privacy stopped short at the games, but despite the warm air, I wrapped myself in the silken robe left hanging on the back of the door, hiding away just in case.
The words 'gilded cage' sprang to mind as I began to pace the room, waiting, thinking, anticipating. How many times would I step into the depths of Hades and return unscathed? Tomorrow I could be torn to ribbons, the painting scratched, my reality exposed. Just a girl who played a game and lost.
My tablet buzzed and I snatched it up from my bedside table, finding a video from Typhon with the message:
Avoid the Redeeming at all costs.
The video played and my hand began to tremble as I watched from a spectator's perspective, gazing down into the pit in the amphitheater. Jennifer was at the heart of it, a stake clasped in her palm. At Abraham's word, the doors opened and a whole horde of Vs swept into the arena. In moments there was nothing left of her but her lifeless eyes projected on the screens, the crowd cheering all the while.
I could barely draw down breath, dropping the tablet, overwhelmed with terror. Marie came to mind as she often did; the girl I'd killed in the previous games. Her wide eyes and parted mouth, horrified at what I'd done. I pressed my fingers into my eyes, fighting back the image of her broken form crumpled on the floor in swathes of yellow silk. If she were watching now, would she want me to survive? Or would she pray I befell a terrible death, to feel the pain she had when I'd driven my stake into her body?
It came to me then, in a moment of absolute clarity; that if our places were traded, and she were here now, still battling the Helsings, then I might hope that she'd survive. Not just for her sake, but for everyone's. To have a chance, albeit a small one, of getting revenge. And I knew then, that this game wasn't about winning. It didn't matter if I survived it, what mattered was that, whether I died or not, I had to strike a blow to the Helsings that would shatter the game to pieces. That defied their infallible hold over us and reminded everyone who was watching that we were people, and this was wrong. Because if the spectators stopped watching, the games were nothing. Achieving that seemed like an insurmountable task. But one which I clung to with everything I had.
I picked up my tablet, sitting on my mattress, legs folded and holding the camera up to my makeup-free face. With my thumb trembling over the button, I pressed record.
“My name is Selena Grey and I'm a contestant in the V Games. But you already know that, because you're watching. Always. I'm not going to plead with you, I'm not going to cry and beg and ask you to release me. But I am going to remind you of something. I am a prisoner. Your prisoner. Not the Helsings', not the Vs'. Yours. You pay to see me fight for my life, every day. You bet on whether I'll live or die. And the weight of my life can be counted down to the penny by how much you've placed on me. Perhaps you think you're merciful, because you're betting on me to survive. Perhaps you think you're supporting me by believing in my ability to live against the odds.” I brought the camera closer so my face filled the screen, my eyes bright and fierce, my jaw set. “But you're wrong. Absolutely, unequivocally wrong. Every cent you bet isn't for me, it isn't even for the Helsings. It's funding an idea. An idea that you're in control; that money gives you the right to disregard morality. But you'll soon learn who's really in control.” I stopped the recording, my hands trembling like mad as I placed the tablet down. I could scarcely believe I'd gotten through the speech without my voice quavering or my eyes watering, but somehow I'd done it. And now that video was sailing away to the inboxes of every spectator and was available for every contestant to watch, too.
I just sparked the idea that we were fighting back. And I hoped that it would make the impact I wanted it to. I hoped the spectators didn't see it for what it was: a bluff.
I curled up in bed, my breathing unsteady, a smile growing and growing on my face. After a while, I checked my rating, finding it had risen to a 9. The more defiant I was, it seemed, the more the spectators liked me.
A knock at my door made my heart trip over itself.
Standing, I grabbed my robe and gathered it around myself before pulling open the door. I was cautious at first, unsure of who to expect.
Twyla stood there in a black slip, her robe hanging open around her. “Hey rebel, can I come in?”
“You saw the video?” I blushed, stepping aside to let her in.
She sauntered into the room, looking around at the space as if comparing it to her own. She turned to face me, giving me a half smile. “Everyone's either seen the video, or gonna see the video.” She sank onto the edge of my bed. “But I reckon you knew that, didn't you?”
I nodded, chewing the insides of my cheeks. “I want to rattle them,” I admitted, glancing cautiously around the room, praying that cameras weren't feeding this back to the viewers and undermining what I'd just done.
“I think we're safe from them here,” Twyla said, picking up on my fears. She patted the bed and I felt like she had more of the power in this room than I did. Walking over, I dropped down, tucking my legs up beneath me.
“It was stupid, wasn't it?” I blurted, doubt crashing into me at full force. My defiance had caused me endless pain with my stepfather in the past. But it simply wasn't in my nature to roll over when told to obey. Not any more anyway. Even when I knew there would be consequences.
“Brave,” she corrected and I dropped my head, heat crawling up my neck.
“No...not brave. This isn't about me...”
“Who is it about then?” She narrowed her eyes.
Twyla hadn't seen me react to Varick's presence. And I was suddenly grateful for that.
“It's hard to explain.” I gave her an innocent look, then fought to change the subject. “But I'm done playing by the rules.”
Twyla considered my words. “I'd still rather be here than back in the shiny land that is the U S of A.”
“How can you?” I shook my head, disbelief no doubt written all over my face.
Twyla tongued her lip ring. “All us girls damaged society and society cast us out. I'd rather be here, fightin' for somethin' every day, even if it's the simple satisfaction of survivin'.”
“What did you get arrested for?” I asked, my voice low. I was tense, sensing something bad from her expression.
Twyla cracked her knuckles, a shadow passing through her eyes. “I hurt girls. A lot of them.”
“Killed them?” I breathed, ice devouring my bones.
She nodded slowly. “I ain't got a sob story, if that's what you're lookin' for. I was aware of what I was doin'.”
“Why did you do it?” I tried not to give away my onslaught of discomfort around her, shifting so an extra inch was put between us.
Twyla gazed calmly at me, an emptiness in her eyes where regret should have been. “Same reason we're killin' Vampires now, I guess. Entertainment.”
I inhaled, fighting the look of disgust on my face.
“Not my entertainment.” She blew out a breath. “Though by the end I was so dead inside I don't know if I was capable of feelin' pity any more.”
I waited for her to elaborate, unsure if I wanted to know more.
Twyla kicked her heels against the edge of the bed. “See, my daddy raised me as a fightin' girl. But my big brother was always the best at boxin'. Daddy poured everythin' into his trainin'. But when he hit his teens, everythin' changed.”
“What happened?” I urged.
Twyla gazed at the wall, her eyes void of light. “My brother's body just... gave out. Muscular dystrophy. You ever seen someone you love waste away like their body ain't even theirs any more?”
I shook my head, a cold stone falling into the pit of my gut.
“Yeah, well. It ain't pretty. Daddy was always good to him. But he still wanted his boxin' champion so he focused his efforts on me instead. And I was good, Selena, honest to god. You couldn't have beaten me easy.” She rested her elbows on her knees, looking thoughtful. “Anyways, it turned out Daddy had a lotta debt. He kept it hidden from us right up till the day he died, just after I turned eighteen. I'd been trained to take on the world. I was gonna be a goddamn star. And suddenly that dream came crashin' down before my eyes.”
“I'm sorry,” I muttered.
She clenched her jaw, fixing me with a stare. “I'm not lookin' for pity, girl. Like I said, this ain't a sob story. It's just life. Makin' plans is the best way to make god laugh, ain't that how the sayin' goes? So yeah, I was left up shit creek, with no money and a brother who could barely lift a spoon to eat his mornin' cereal. So a year later I'm waitin' bars and workin' every hour of the day god gifted me. And I hear these guys talkin' one night, braggin' about some street fight they'd attended in town. I ain't dumb. I knew street fightin' was illegal, but then they start talkin' 'bout the money they made bettin' and I'm thinkin' 'this is it, this is my answer'. So long story short, I track down the arena – it was beneath this dirty-ass club in town - and I start makin' okay money. I was rusty as hell, but after a year I was makin' enough to support me and my brother. Things were actually good for a while.” She gave a small smile. “But then this guy shows up at the club every night. Starts watchin' me. And a few weeks later, he offers me somethin' I couldn't refuse. Tells me I could make in one night what I make in a week if I fight for him. We were doin' okay, me and my brother. But there were bills to pay, not just rent and gas, but hospital bills. And this guy wanted one night. That was it. So I took up the offer.”
“And did you make the money?” I asked, leaning in closer.
She nodded grimly. “A few days later I drive to the address he gave me and turn up at some farmhouse in the middle o' nowhere. There's nearly a hundred trucks all parked up outside and music blarin' like you wouldn't believe. In his basement, he has this cage made out of chicken wire and concrete. And I'm thinkin' 'all I gotta do is fight'. But when I'm put in the ring with this big girl...” Her eyes glazed over, the memory clinging to her. “She was blonde, broad shouldered, nothin' but a pick of fat on her. I remember these scratches up her arms...” She tongued the ring in her lip for a moment. “It was like the first time I saw a Vampire. She came at me so fast, all I could do was react.”
My stomach lurched at the memory of the first time I'd been forced to take on a V. It would never leave me.
“Didn't take long before I knew she was tryin' to kill me. And it didn't matter how much trainin' I'd had at that point. When you're fightin' for your life, all bets are off. No rules, no referee. It was me or her. And somehow...” Twyla shrugged.
“You won,” I rasped and she nodded.
“I got paid. I went home. I didn't feel much of anythin'. Kinda hollow inside.” She laid a hand over her chest. “That space never really filled up again. I didn't go back, not for a while anyways...” She cleared her throat, not looking at me when she said, “My brother's heart gave out a few months later. Died, just like that.” She snapped her fingers and I felt the sound cut through to my soul. “And that was when I realised...people die. Every day. Good people, bad people. Don't matter. So I went back to that club. And I kept killin'. Kept tryin' to fill that space with somethin'.” Darkness consumed her expression and I could almost feel that emptiness inside her sliding over me. “One day the cops show up, close it all down, take me in, the rest is history.” Silence hung between us and she seemed entirely lost to some memory. When her eyes refocused on me she tilted her head to the side and said, “You've still got that thing inside you that I'm missin'. Don't lose it, girl. It don't grow back.”
I dropped my head, unsure what she meant, unsure if I wanted to know.
I picked at my robe. “So you never feel like fighting back? Don't you want to leave the games?”
Twyla eyed me curiously. “I know this life. It ain't nice, but it's familiar.” She considered it for a minute. “But ya know? I'm getting' a little tired of bein' everybody's pawn. Sure would be good to know what free feels like again.”
I lowered my voice to a tiny whisper. “What if we could?” I lifted a brow, keeping my expression neutral as she took in my words.
A smile curled up the corners of her mouth. “Why d'ya think I came here after I saw your little F-you video?”
I bit my bottom lip to hold back a smile. “What about the other girls? Do you think they'd help come up with a plan?”
“I don't see why not, seein' as you've already got quite the followin'.”
“What do you mean?” I frowned.
Twyla stood, ignoring me as she walked across the room to the mini-bar and took out a miniature bottle of champagne. Twisting the cap off, she poured us two glasses into the plastic cups that had been left on the vanity unit.
“You really don't know?” She returned to me, handing me a glass.
She tapped hers to mine but I hesitated to drink. “Know what?”
“You know you can watch the games on your tablet, right? Any girl who's played before...their game can be watched on there.” She gestured to my tablet with her drink.
Something cold stirred inside me. Marie. Everyone would know. Everyone would see it. Even I could watch it if I wanted. Relive it. See what all the spectators saw. I felt the blood trickle from my face, one drop at a time.
Evidently my expression gave away what I was thinking, because Twlya stepped closer and said, “From what I've watched of the games so far, you're the only winner who tried to help the others. The only one who didn't sell someone out. Didn't lose her goddamn humanity.” She grimaced, her hand trembling around her cup. “Thing is, I lost mine a long time before anyone put me in front of a V. And so did ninety nine percent of the other girls here. But you...” She stepped closer, sipping her champagne. My own cup seemed fused to my palm; I couldn't look anywhere but into her earthy eyes.
“You don't belong here.”
“No one belongs here,” I found my voice and it was spiky with rage. “I killed a girl-”
“An accident,” she said immediately. “It ain't the same as killin' with intention. Everyone here knows what you are.”
“And what's that?” I asked through a snarl. I wasn't any different. No girl deserved to be here, no matter what they'd done. We were still human. We still deserved an ounce of dignity.
“You're hope.”
The dryness of my tongue called for the champagne. I took a sip to avoid answering and the bubbles fizzed down my throat. Her words were too much. They placed too much responsibility on my shoulders. I'd done nothing more than they had: survived by the skin of my teeth.
“Twyla-” I started but the words died in my throat as another knock came at the door. Twyla moved to answer it, opening the door and finding Thames and Veta crowded in the door frame.
“We saw the video.” Thames shot me a wink. “When does the revolution begin?”