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“Blue,” he urges, but I ignore him again and begin to pull the zipper down. He comes up behind me and halts my hand, removing it from its downward motion and taking its place, unzipping me slowly. “Why are you ignoring me?” he says, close enough to my ear that it sends shivers down my spine from the feel of his breath on my neck. “I won’t tolerate it.”
“Oh?” Turning on him, I allow one of the straps of my dress to fall off my shoulder. “You won’t tolerate it?” My anger is rising in my chest. I can feel myself building up to a tangent, the hot, rage-filled words flowing out of me. “You seem to tolerate a lot of things. Blackmail, the abuse of women, the lying, the cheating, what else? The difference between you and I, Laurence,” I approach him until our chests are touching, “is that Idon’ttolerate any of that. Iwon’ttolerate you keeping things from me. I won’t tolerate these games, I won’t tolerate what you’re doing to the other Players, I won’tfucking tolerate it.” Pressing a palm to his chest, I push him. I’m not nearly strong enough to move someone the size of Laurence, but he takes a step back regardless.
“Then why did you come here? Why did you sign up for the games?” His tone is equally filled with frustration.
My dress slides off my shoulders and falls to my ankles, leaving me in nothing but a thong and heels. “I don’t need to explain my past to you.”
Laurence remains silent as I bend down to remove my heels, discarding my attire in a pile on the closet floor. He’s so silent that I dare to look at him. He looks pained.
“If this is how you treat those who try to help you, God help anyone who loves you.”
The words sting harder than I expect, driving a dagger straight through my chest. “Fuck you.”
His jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing. “You won’t be tonight. In fact, let me do you a favor,” he says, grabbing a few items of clothing and then making his way out the door without another word, leaving me alone in the room with nothing but my thoughts and the pain of his words.
I’m still in the closet, unable to move. Every moment someone left me because I bit back comes flooding in to haunt me, paralyzing me in a state of pain as tears spill over in my eyes.
Each moment a lover I thought would stay that didn’t.
Each moment a client got up from the bed to toss money at me and leave.
Each moment my father left, only to wind up in jail and leave me alone forever.
Always alone. I’m always facing things alone.
With a shaky hand, I reach up to pull one of Laurence’s shirts from a hangar and pull it over my shoulders. My fingers shake so hard I struggle to button it and eventually give up after two, leaving it open. When I walk out into the room, the emptiness rises to swallow me. I try to hold onto my original anger at Laurence, to keep it within me so I have some reason to be okay with him leaving me alone tonight, but it only brings more pain.
I hate to admit that I’m scared, worried for what’s to come, worried about the women stuck here and the Players who will meet the same fate. No one deserves this.
In the bathroom, I face my reflection in the mirror to remove my makeup, still finding my hands shaky as I splash water on my face. It’s hard to look at myself right now, to know that I might have doomed myself to the fate of being stuck here if Laurence no longer wants to be my Advocate. I imagine the guards bursting in here at any moment to drag me away, Laurence finished with me. It makes the process of washing my face feel pointless, but I do it anyway.
With the fear of being hauled away at any moment, I don a pair of leggings from my own belongings and crawl into bed, curling up on my side underneath the blanket.
I can’t stop the tears from flowing. They soak the lavish pillowcase until the fabric is so damp it makes the surface even cooler, more comforting.
I don’t deserve to be warm.
I joined these games to save a man who had never done anything for me but leave. Having nearly forgotten about it, so entrenched in Laurence and the games, I look at the golden band on my finger. My father’s ring. I run a finger over it, blinking through the tears to watch the slivers of moonlight shine across its surface.
“Why am I here?” I whisper to the shadows. “Why am I trying to save you?” Removing the ring from my finger, I hold it up. “Why can’t I save myself for a change?”
The question dredges up a truth inside me that I had never had the courage to face, building up to another question.
Why can’t I let others help me, too?
Something takes over me and I rise from the bed and head for the toilet, holding the ring aloft above it. I question my reasoning for being in the games, the purpose which drives meto win, and if I even have that drive anymore, or if it’s shifting to something else.
Looking at the ring again, I trace its shape. My father was never there for me, but the idea of him returning was something I’d always relied on. In that, I want the ring to remain a lesson. I wanthimto remain a lesson.
Closing my fingers around the ring, I step away from the toilet and return to the bed, but take a seat on its edge, knowing sleep will not be a companion for me this evening.
I set the ring atopThe Sun Also Risesand feel my initial drive to win slip away, something new taking its place; something more vicious that will prevent me from winning, pulling me far away from where I was before the gala, before the events I witnessed there.
Winning is no longer an option, but destruction is.
With this new resolve taking over, I lay on my back atop the covers and stare up the ceiling, imagining the ways in which I might destroy the games in their entirety and free the women being held here. The thoughts are accompanied by the reminder that the next game is tomorrow morning.
With Laurence gone, I won’t be receiving any hints about what’s to come.
