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The Death GameLoading...
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Ryan Ireland
This is it. My life is ending today.
Literally.
I’m going to get stabbed and die. I push open the doors to an office building and run through the hallways looking for a stairwell. A burning sensation's rising in my lungs. I keep moving. When I find a stairwell I sneak a look behind me. He’s getting closer by the second. I turn the handle and lock the door behind me. He’ll find a way to unlock it, but for now it’ll buy me some time. I charge up the stairs. I hear my footsteps echoing around me. I hear the sound of a door slamming open below me. I climb the last sets of stairs and throw open the door to the roof. I run to the edge and look over. Oh. My. God. This is at least an eight-story building. There’s no way I’m going to survive this fall.
“Funny seeing you here,” I whip around. He has a lovely smile, actually. It’s too bad things ended badly between the two of us.
“Ha, ha,” I say it sarcastically. I look around the roof hoping to find a way to escape. He notices what I’m doing and slips an arm around my waist.
“We both know we made a mistake,” This surprises me, he sounds almost sad. I nod my head in agreement trying to buy some time before being stabbed to death, or the new option: being thrown off a roof.
He sighs, “I don’t want to play the game anymore.” I study his face. The sunlight catches his eyes adding a green glow to his already gleaming eyes. I sigh. I didn’t ever want to play this game from the start. No one realized how badly this game would affect us.
“Neither do I,” I finally respond, “but what choice do we have?” He looks at a point beyond my head. Into the city.
“We could quit the game,” he turns back to my face, “we could leave this city, and leave everything behind us.” I seriously consider it for a moment. That wouldn’t be fair to the others, though. If we just randomly quit excusing ourselves from this awful game we created.
“You know we can’t. It wouldn't be fair to everyone who was already killed.” He looks into my eyes and sighs.
“I do, I know that, Colette. But can’t I just pretend for a moment?” He looks away again. I actually feel sorry for him, but he must realize. Things aren’t going to change anytime soon. The wind starts to pick up. I shiver as he pulls me in. His skin feels warm and comforting. When he realizes I’m not trying to pull away, he drops his knife and puts his other arm around me.
“I’ve missed you, Colette,” He looks at me and I stare back at him. I know exactly what he’s trying to do, and I’m not going to fall for it again.
I push him away, “Don’t even try.” He looks at me confused. I snatch his knife, “Bye, Lincoln.” I walk toward the door without looking back.