Page 81 of Lucky 14

“You done?” Kyan crosses his arms.

My face flames. “You know what? Yes. Yes, I am. Nice knowing you.” I whirl on my heel and stalk to the door. Bursting out into the well-lit hallway, I’m slammed by the air conditioner. I didn’t realize how sticky that room had become. Humiliation beads across my forehead. I can’t believe I just did that.

Footsteps sound behind me.

Footsteps?

I glare ahead, too afraid to look back, heart racing. But I know it’s him. The huge presence, the magnetic pull.

Kyan falls into step beside me, silent.

We reach the end of the hall, and I realize I don’t know where we’re going. Kyan was my last plan. So, I snap my gaze over to him. “What are you doing?”

Kyan gives me a blank look. “Helping you, of course. Where are we going?”

For a second, I just stare at him. He stares back and digs in his pocket. “Wait. Have you seen my vape? Gold with a skull on it?” Then the huge man starts striding back to the room.

I’m frozen. He’s…helping? He’s not just leaving?

A forbidden…something dances through my chest.

He’s not leaving?

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Day 7

It’s been over twenty-four hours since I last had water. At one point, I tried to maneuver my way to the bathroom to drink from the sink, but my kidnapper tied my hands and feet so securely to each other that I had no freedom of movement. Once I was on the ground, I couldn’t see the clock. And when I wormed my way to the bathroom, I realized there would be no way I could even get up on the toilet to reach the faucet. Given that I haven’t been successful, I haven’t needed to pee.

Not for the first time, I think about the mystery food Oakley tried to give me. Why the hell didn’t I eat it?

I glare at the tile under my head, moving to a new cool spot. At one point, I think my fever broke, but I’m so thirsty I’m fairly certain it’s back. Everything feels warm and fuzzy, and I close my eyes to shut it all out.

When I wake again, I’m still on the floor. Alone.

There’s a bit of dirt on the tile in front of me, and listlessly I wonder what it came from. Outside? Did this hunter drag it in from his other killings? How many other players are dead?

The thought makes me tired, so I close my eyes again. My stomach grumbles, and I ignore it. It’s not even the lack of food. It’s the forgetting.

Did Oakley forget? Has he been looking? And what of the guy who took me? If he’s going to kill me, just fucking do it. But he’s forgetting me, too?

Tired rage burns behind my eyes, and I close them. Suddenly, I’m sixteen again, and it’s the weekend after Christmas. The tree blinks in the living room, covered in cheap balls and plastic stars.

I keep trying to convince myself the tree is pretty. The ornaments were all I could find on a delivery service. Luckily, I grabbed them ‘cause Mom’s card declined after that order.

Sighing, I go back to the pantry. There’s an old bag of rice and some stale, purple Peeps. I stare at them, and they stare up at the ceiling, all fluffed together as a unit. As a family.

My eyes burn, and I snatch up the packet. How dare they have someone, and I don’t? They’re fucking candy.

Ripping open the plastic, I viciously tear the marshmallows apart. They rip with little pfft sounds, groups tearing apart, squishing under my fingers, until they’re mangled and smashed and none of them are touching, some of their eyes ripped off, ears flattened, bellies ripped apart.

My hands shake, and I don’t feel any better. I check my phone again, mostly out of habit. I know there are no notifications. My parents haven’t texted back in a week, either because they don’t have service on their holiday cruise, or because they don’t care. The holiday cruise they forgot to tell me was over two weeks long. The whole holiday season.

Technically, Grandpa is in charge of me right now. But we all know Grandpa is a drunk alcoholic.

“Don’t have any parties, and don’t open the door to strangers.”

The lights twinkle on the tree, and I snap my gaze up to look at it. The plastic branches mock me with their warped ornaments, looking like they came from the clearance rack where families leave their discarded shit for other families to pick through and build their own trees from the discarded lives of others. The tree looks like it knows my parents aren’t home. Like it knows no adult has ever touched it.