“You said you believe you could win the game,” I mummer as I shuffle the cards, my eyes trailing his as they flit around the room, peeling back one cascade of black just to find another. The corners of his pale lips droop subtly. “Am I correct?”
“Yeah,” He replies, his voice immediately subdued by the layers of cloth. His liquid brown eyes freeze, surprised by how scratchy his voice sounds. “Yeah,” He repeats, as though trying out the word as it rolls out of his tongue, only to find himself stunned again by the lack of the usual boom his voice projects.
“You three against one of me, that seems… fair, doesn’t it?” Glancing at each other quizzically, they nod, their lips still quirked up mischievously. “And you, my lady? Would you like to” – I incline my head at the cards slipping and sliding between one another in my hands – “join us?”
“Oh,” She breathes, avoiding my eyes, her fingers folding into one another only to be untangled again. “No, it’s fine.”
Arching my eyebrows, I ask slowly, as one would tread into a pool of deathly cold water, “Are you sure? It would only be fair if you would stand for yourself, you know? After all, it’s you we’re betting on.”
“Oh, that…” Her dusty grey eyes dart to the scarred face boy, seeking for advice in his rusty brown eyes, only to receive a dismissive look from him. “I don’t think I’d mind…”
“Ok,” Slamming the cards onto the table, I let my eyes fall on each of the three boys, taking their expressions in. They seem pretty cool about this, at least that much I can tell. My gaze swings back to their leader with that smug smile plastered onto his smug face that homed his smug eyes – oh, those liquid brown eyes that rustle like dead leaves when stepped upon. Can’t tell you how much I want to slap the expression out of his face, his eyes. “One last chance. Do you really want to play this game? With me?”
Another confused look charges silently between them. “Of course,” Brown Eyes smashes his fist against the cloth table, “This game is the fairest game I’ve ever played.” He snickers. “And certainly the most interesting.”
I wouldn’t say that if I were you. “How about you two? It’s not too late to change your mind now, you know.”
“Them? I’ve made their decision for them – they’re playing, that’s definite.”
“And what makes you say that?” I tilt my head to the side, raising my brows in question. “You know, what with all that stuff they say about human rights… I don’t reckon it fair you make all the decisions for these lads.”
“Well, you know what? I’m their freakin’ leader.”
My hands shoot up in mock defense. “Whoa, there. No need to start snapping.” Half chuckling, half frowning, I continue, “And who are you, anyway? To earn their trust?”
“Austin Hopewell. Also known as The Flaring Flame of the South, The Fire that Never Dies, and The Red Bull.” His chest puffs up as he says it, forcing a bright red blossom to bloom across his face as he runs out of air. Reminds me of one of those birds with an overly large chest that puffs up. Too much ego to last him a lifetime.
“Or just Austin?” I suggest, a corner of my lip twitching upwards. “I didn’t ask for that, but thanks still.” A stretch of silence crawls over us, tickling the back of our necks with prickling uncertainty. My gaze wanders to the girl sitting alone in the corner only to stir the guilt already bubbling in my stomach. “So,” I begin, sweeping my eyes one last time over their overconfident faces. “We all understand how this game works?”
They nod. “If either one of us gets a card with a higher score than yours,” Austin grins, “We have this… this den… to ourselves. So, basically, we get to kick your stinkin’ butt outta here.”
“And if neither of you gets a card with a higher score than mine?” I ask, arching my brow jerkily as I try in vain to dampen the heat coursing up my neck.
“We… well, we…” He shrugs. “We hand her over to you. That’s it, I guess. Let’s begin–
“No, that’s not it.”
“Huh?”
“As I said,” No, don’t do this. Don’t do this. “That’s not it,” This is out of bounds. “Not only will you give me the girl…” You didn’t bargain for this – you don’t have to do this. You don’t – but I want this. “But, as an addition to that, you will give me yourselves, too.”
I want them to feel pain.
+++
Clink.
Strange.
Clink, clink.
My neck feels stiff under the coarse fabric of my cloak. It hasn’t felt this way in quite a while, though – for so long that I thought I’ve adjusted to it – but, as it turns out, I can still feel it: the scratchy length of dark skimming my neck every time I’d turn around to prove that there are no shadows lurking on the very edge of my periphery.
Clink.
I turn my eyes on the walls streaked with streams of the murkiest of greens.
“I should’ve known there’s a freakish dungeon down below that creep’s small hideout.”
Clink. Clink, clink, clink.
“Why?” Footsteps ricochet off the dampened walls, as though seeking a chink in this maze’s armor. Maze, not dungeon. I glance briefly at Austin – bruised, crippled, panda-eyed Austin – as he slouches behind me. “What’re we gonna do ‘bout–”
“Stand up straight, Austin.” As I fish out my keys, my eyes flicker back to the girl caught up in all this mess. As much as I want to apologize her, the words won’t come out of my mouth. How can you apologize when what you did wasn’t an accident? The words remain lodged in my throat.
“Says who? The Reaper? Or is it now God? Oh, no, it’s–” A hand smacks him square in the face, smearing blood across his face.
“Thanks, John. Now, if you would…” Grunting, I push the key into its lock and twist it ‘til I hear a faint click. Slowly, the door creaks open. “Yeah, throw him into this cell. Suits him.”
“Hey! So what’s your name, really? I didn’t mean what I said earlier–”
Glaring at him, I say, my voice colder than I remember it to be, “Knock him out.”
“I’m sorry! I mean it. I’m–” His body slumps against the wall bleeding moss.
“Thanks, again. Sorry about the work load today, though. My bad I brought in this lot.”
We continue stalking down the corridor, our mouths thin slits carved onto our fissured faces. Nobody talks, and nobody’s willing to start up a conversation. Just the click of keys before someone else disappears into another cube of shadows.
“They n-never really cared for me.”
Fingering a tarnished key, I glance back at the girl shivering, choking up on her own tears. Another wave of guilt stabs the back of my neck. “Do you need a blanket?”
“Sir, no privileges allowed for the Captured.”
“John…” I pause, the stale air dirtying my throat as I inhale deeply, both annoyed and anxious at the same time. “Go fetch me a blanket.”
“But sir, the Captured must be–”
“I know, I know. The Captured must be supervised at all times. Did my fa–” Coughing, I wave a dismissive hand at him. “Just go fetch me a blanket, will you? I’ll take care of her.”
His beady eyes flit briefly between me and the staircase.
“Just go.”
Nodding, he bobs up the stairs, before disappearing around the corner. As his footsteps intermingle with one another, finally merging into silence, I slump against the wall, closing my eyes.
“A-aren’t you supposed to watch me?”
Sighing, I open one of my eyes only to find the girl staring at me with a flicker of something in her cloudy eyes – is it shame? Regret? Or is it fear? I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m…” I shake my head – I must seem like some guy sick with self-loath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Slowly, I pry my eyes open, only to find them trained on her left cheek pulsing an angry red. “I didn’t meant to…” This is my doing. “Never mind… never mind what I just said.”
Her eyes on the ground, she shakes her head slightly, sending limp strands of auburn hair tumbling over her face. Again, the heavy air ripples with strings of sobs. “John will be here in a few minutes.” She chokes, the corridor silent for a moment, but the tears still stream down her cracked cheeks. As I part my lips again, ready to release another series of consolation, footsteps echo down the stairway, and I am forced to watch her as she sinks deeper and deeper into her own sorrow–
As the air slowly runs out of her lungs and the bubbles no longer disturb the calm surface of the lake. Now nobody will know someone has drowned in her own head.
+++
“Tell him we caught four more and they will be ready in three days times.”
“Sir, I thought your father–”
“Well, what do you want me to do, John? It’s not like we can let them go and spread the story, is it?”
“No… but your father, sir. He doesn’t want boys. He only wants girls.”
“I don’t care what my father says. Besides, he’d understand why I did it. Now, if you’d excuse me, I’ll go out and take in a few gulps of polluted air.” Pushing the length of cloth that covers the entrance of our hideout aside, I mutter, “People these days. At least care for what your Earth is going through.”
“Well, now he didn’t deserve that.”
“Well, I thought Mother Nature’s a she all along.” I mock, not batting an eye at the girl beside me as I continue to trudge through the bottles and cans strewn across our street.
“No,” The tone of her voice stops me dead in my track, forcing me to look up at her. “No,” she repeats, shaking her head, “I didn’t mean Mother Nature. I meant John.”
“What about him?” I ask, scooping down to examine a bottle that reflects a blurred mirage of the guttering sky, the sun peering down every now and then as the clouds try to move as fast as they can to their destination.
“You were being a bit harsh on him back there. He was just warning you.”
“Well,” Tilting the glass bottle towards the horizon torn apart by buildings jutting out of the concrete ground, I raise my eyebrows. Is that your destination?  My gaze tracks the smoldering mess as it slithers into the space behind the buildings. Fools. There is no destination. The only path you know you’re walking down is one that leads to death. That’s the only destination you’ve been given in life. “I don’t think his ‘warnings’ are useful to me. I know what I’m doing – he doesn’t.” Lisa only purses her lips, shaking her head once again. “What?”
Only the wind replies with its shivering fingers as I toss the bottle over my shoulder, resuming to weave my way through the shuddering crowd of the market, my sister having long been shredded to pieces by my mind.
+++
Rapping the metal door softly, I slide the key stained a rotting orange into the lock, pushing the heavy door open. The stench of urine curls into my nostrils the second I step into the room, making me hold my breath as I try to switch on my flashlight.
“Hello? Austin?” The shadows scuttle to the side as I sweep my beam of light towards the spot where John left him last evening. Only to find it vacant. “Austin?” Treading further into the room, I lift a scratchy blanket over a fat lump under it – nope, no Austin. Just a pillow. A pillow beneath a blanket to trick the eyes. Reminds me of one of those pranks my sister used to play on our parents when she didn’t want to–
Clink. My head snaps towards the door, swinging slowly away from the stone wall. Frustrated, I throw my hand into my pocket, fish out my phone, and stab the numbers with shaky fingers. “JOHN!” I holler, my phone beeping calmly, taunting me, as I dash down the flickering corridor. “JOHN!”
“Yes, sir?” His voice blares through the speakers, confused.
“One of our prisoners – he’s escaped!”
“One of our prisoners…? Sir, do you mean the Captured…?”
“YES!”
“Well, I certainly haven’t… wait…”
Static.
Sinking to my knees, I lean against the wall, tilting my head upwards as my eyes flutter close. Austin has escaped and John caught him. He will be punished for it. This is more than I can hopefully ask for. Gradually, my heart slows down to a constant thud-thud in my chest. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Austin will be punished, and perhaps I might be the one conducting his punishment. Good days to come.
Prying my eyes open, I push myself to my feet, a permanent grin imprinted onto my face. Austin will suffer.
“Sir!”
Oh, here they come. Pausing in my track, I try to scratch the stupid look off my face. Can’t let them know how happy I am. “Yes, John, I’m here.” Gazing at the stairway as John appears, my face cracks into a child-like smile despite my attempts to hide it.
His chest puffing up, he says through pants, “I’ve… I’ve caught him.”
“Good.” Nodding curtly, I continue, “And he who escapes shall be punished, am I correct?”
“Yes… he who… escapes… shall be punished.”
“Now, hand the prisoner over to me. He needs my handling.” I reach my hand out for the length of rope John clutches on to tightly.
“Yes, sir,” As he leads the Captured around the corner, tugging him as he goes, my grin slowly peels itself off my face. Glancing up at me, a quizzical look passes over John’s face. “What’s it, sir?”
“W-what’s it, John?” Chuckling, my eyes twitch as my hands clench themselves into tight fists, my nails digging into my palms. “What’s it?!” I throw my finger at the scrawny boy next to him – oh, the scrawny boy shaking, his eyes on the verge of slipping out of their sockets as they grow wider with each passing second. “THIS IS NOT AUSTIN, THAT’S WHAT IT IS!”
“Oh… is that it, sir? I don’t see what harm can–”
“Everything’s gone wrong, John! Can’t you see?!” My hands swat wildly at the space around us. “Now Austin’s out there, spreading the story about us! And th-there’s this boy… What are we going to do about him?”
“Lock him up, sir? Your father won’t notice a thing.”
Tears stain my cheeks. No, stop it. Looking away from them – from my brainless guard and that troublesome boy who got himself tangled up in this mess – I blink rapidly, my hands swiping at my puffy eyes. “N-no, don’t, I can’t…” Squeezing my eyes shut, I limp down the corridor. “Never mind, John. Never mind.”
“So do you want me to lock him up, sir?”
Sighing, I shake my head. “No, John. It’s fine. We have Austin o-out there doing… all the damage. I… I don’t think another boy out on the loose… would make much of a difference.”
“Are you sure–?”
“Yes.” I snap, curling my fingers tightly around the keys. “Yes, I’m sure, John.”
+++
‘Wait, what? Say that again?”
“Look, I’m sorry, son. I know how you feel about me not informing you–”
“Yes, yes, I know that.” My fingers rattle against my wooden desk agitatedly. “And you said you’re about to come pick the prisoners up tomorrow? At dawn break?”
“Yes, son. My apologies. I should’ve given you more time.” Static blares as he coughs softly. “I’ve heard there are two boys?”
“Yes, you should’ve given me more time,” I mutter, my annoyance dissipating into fear. “You should’ve given me more time – or at least warned me about this change in plans.”
“And you should’ve informed me about the two boys?” Static rattles down the line as he breathes into the phone, calmly, waiting for my answer. “John told me.”
My heart lodged in my throat, I try to reply as nonchalantly as I can, “They’re a gift. You know, now that we’re so close to Father’s Day…” I trail off, my gaze falling upon the dog-eared calendar on my desk, the word “November” imprinted on it staring back defiantly at me. We’re not even close to Father’s Day. “You know, they’re a... um… a bonus! I mean, you’re such a great” – I cringe – “a great father!”
He sighs. “Well, I don’t know. Guess you have to explain yourself if he happens to ask.”
Shrugging, Lisa stares blankly at the market, now nothing more than a few candles flickering out of existence and men slouching down the streets – jolly fools. “It’s not like I can help it.”
“–seen a girl with auburn hair?”
“What were you saying? Sorry, I was dozing off. It’s already dark.”
Snickering, she mutters, “Lame excuse.”
“Have you seen a girl with auburn hair?” My father asks, pronouncing each word carefully as though he were speaking to a child.
Raising an eye brow at Lisa, she only shrugs, her gaze lingering on the street down below. “With grey eyes?”
“Yes. You’ve seen her?”
“Yeah, she–”
“Splendid! My cars will be at your place by dawn break. Mr. Lexington will be impressed.”
Springing up to my feet, I rush towards the door, “Wait, Dad… what are you going to… do with her?”
“That I don’t know, but my best guess is Mr. Lexington will either take her as his mistress or use her as a subject for one of his outrageously dangerous experiments. Whatever the case, she’s worth a bucketful of cash,” he pauses, noticing the thud of my feet crashing down the stairs and my ragged breaths for the first time. “What are you doing, son?”
“Just…” Ending the call, I fish out my keys, dropping them several times before successfully inserting one into the lock.
Click.
Closing my eyes, I wash my lungs with the musty air as I push the door open. Calm down. She will freak out if she sees you like this. “Hey,” Before I can hear – much less see – anything, the sobs greet me as I tread carefully into the small cell. There, in the furthest corner from the door, sits a dark lump that can only resemble a human form – no tricks. “Are you...” As I reach out towards her trembling body with my hand, she presses herself further into the wall, as though she wants nothing more to do with me. My hand falls limply to my side, tightening my throat in rejection. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”
“I know that!” The words come tumbling out of her throat raw and coarse, “I know I know I know! Why do you have to keep saying you’re sorry? Why won’t you just tell me why you’re even doing this?” Her body collapses onto her knee again as sobs rack her body like mini earthquakes. “Why, instead of apologizing, won’t you try to fix this?”
Sighing, I wrap my arms around my knees, resting my chin there as I gaze at her. Why won’t I try to fix this? I can only shake my head, the answers having dried up long ago with the tears that sprang into my eyes the moment I saw Lisa’s eyes roll back into her head, her body convulsing on the floor, draining the last of her life from her body. “I don’t know. And that’s the worst part of it. I don’t know.”
Her morose grey eyes peek up at me. “No, the worst part is me tagging along with those guys… Had I not come over to play the game with them... you won’t have to go through this – I won’t have to go through this.” A melancholy tune pierces the stale air. She glimpses the corner of my phone peeking out of my pocket. “That’s your phone ringing, right?”
“Yeah,” I reply reluctantly, each note of the song stampeding up my body like a warning of the approaching dawn.
“Well, pick it up, then.”
“No,” We stare at each other for another moment as my ringtone continues to fill in the creaks and cracks in the wall. “No,” I repeat, staring at her. “Look, I’ve come down here for a reason–”
Her hands fly to her ears. “No, I don’t want to hear it.”
Cocking my head to the side, I arch my eyebrow in open curiosity. “Ok… So what do you want to hear?”
She rubs the back of her neck absent-mindedly. “I know this sounds weird… but I wonder… what would it be like if we were to meet each other under normal circumstances?”
“Nothing happens. That’s how it usually plays out when people meet each other in a park or a market. We don’t often notice things when nothing’s at stake.”
“But you first saw me and the guys in the market,” she states, raising an eyebrow in question. “So… how come you noticed us? Or…” She giggles, the sound reminding me of how I felt when Mum slipped spoonful after spoonful of warm honey into my mouth when I was sick in bed. How heavenly it felt as the liquid slid down my sore throat. “Or is it that you just go around asking random people to play card games with you?”
Chuckling, I reply, “Perhaps.”
The corners of her lips droop, trembling, her eyes springing with new tears. “D-does that mean… hundreds have faced the same fate as me? Being locked up–”
“Shhh, now,” I breathe, placing my callous palm gingerly on her arm. “Shh, now’s not the time for tears, remember? You said it yourself you only want to hear of good news.” Shivering, she swipes tears from her eyes. “Are you cold?”
She nods. Reaching over for the tattered blanket discarded on the floor, I wrap it around her quivering body. Leaning against the wall next to her, I ask, “Now, what do you want to hear?”
“Your name,” she mummers, her eyes trailing mine as I gaze into the distance. “I want to know your name. You only said you’re known as the Reaper.”
“I have several aliases, actually. Some…” I hesitate, not sure whether I should continue. “Some call me the Grim Reaper, others call me Satan. But mostly, it’s only those who survive who get the chance to say my name twice.”
“Well,” she grins mischievously. “Since when did I ask for your aliases?”
“Oh… right, you didn’t. Sorry. My name…” I trail off, conversations with my parents reeling in my mind. Don’t tell a stranger your real name. Mum frowned at Dad’s remark but didn’t argue. By telling them your name, you’re giving them a piece of you – a piece you can never take back. It’s like telling the truth and not being able to lie about it again – actually, it is exactly that. Mum had shaken her head at Dad’s strange philosophy, a smirk carved onto her face. However, as I’m about to spill my guts for this stranger to see, I am feeling the enormity of this truth for the first time. For once, I agree with my father. “My name… it’s Mason.”
Mason, Mason, Mason. I cringe as the word echoes down the corridor and probably to the other side of town, where Austin can hear it with both his ears. Mason, Mason, Mason. Dad’s face hovers above mine, displeasure reflected in his pointy eyes. Mason, Mason, Mason.
“Mason,” She smiles and all fear dissolves into worry. “Mason… Hey, Mason, my name’s–”
Jumping to my feet, I drag the girl up with me. “Look, sorry I have to do this but I’m here to tell you that some freakish–”
Sirens. Two of them wailing over one another.
“J-just follow me, ok? Things are not going the way we expect it to.” My fingers gripping onto her frail wrist tightly, I haul her out of the cell, already ascending the stairs by the time the sirens are screeching to the point of splitting my eardrums in half.
“Perhaps…they’re just ambulances!” She says through pants, her legs doing their best to catch up with my long strides.
“No, it’s… it’s Austin. He called the police.”
“Well, that’s exactly why we should go to them! So we can tell… them about whoever’s forcing you to do this. I can see it! You… you don’t want to do whatever it is you’re forced to do.”
Sighing, I stand still, forcing her to stop yanking me towards the sirens. “I won’t mind if you’d hate me for the rest of your life… but here’s the horrible truth… I’m–”
A fleshy palm slams into my shoulder, making me wince slightly. “I never knew you’d go this far for a bucket load of money, son.” Chuckling, he steps up next to me, bowing curtly. “Nice to meet you, m’lady.”
“How come you’re… here?” I ask, frantically removing my hand from the girl’s wrist, my voice quivering slightly. “I thought you’re…”
“About that,” A cold smile unfurls itself across his lips. “I just got curious when you ended my call so abruptly – and you’ve never done that before – and the next time I called, you didn’t pick it up. So, I decided to come over–”
“Did John tell you?”
He sighs. “Yes. He did. Said you’re feeling a bit too… sympathetic… towards the Captured. So I decided to come over and check that everything’s all right. Now…” His eyes drift towards the girl convulsing with… what? Fear? Panic? Anger? “If you would hand me over this pretty little girl…”
“Wh-who are you?” She growls, her voice shaking too much to make it sound threatening. “To f-force Mason around… doing things he d-doesn’t want to do?”
“Oh,” He glances at me, a scowl stretching the skin around his mouth tight. “So you’ve told her your name… Shame. How many times have I told you not to?” His attention returns to the girl. “Well, you sweet little thing, I’m his father. Nice to meet you.”
She stabs me with her spiteful eyes as John drags her away, her lips a permanent scowl on her face. In return for my honesty, I have stolen from her trust. Another alias for me. The Heart Thief.