The White Games

15) Chapter Fifteen

#11 Imogen Sykes – Day Four - 8:02 AM

"Fausto!"

The boy I've spent nearly four days with falls forward, rasping for air as his hands clutch at his throat. Fear builds in his eyes as he tries to breathe, but then it's replaced by a glazed over nothingness as he goes limp. I stifle my sob.

Fausto is dead.

I look up from his body, look up at Clarice. The thin waif of a girl offers me a placating smile. "He was a threat," She says simply.

"You..." I don't know what to say. Words catch in my throat. Tears sting my eyes. I just watched Fausto die. He died. And I don't even know how or why. He's just dead. One moment he's alive, eating. The next, dead.

That's when it hits me.

"You poisoned him!" I whisper the words as I stare at Clarice. She's no longer the scared, timid girl she was. She's something different. A killer. "You poisoned him!"

"Yes. Yes, I did." She stands stiffly, reaching out and picking her knife up from the grass. "And I poisoned your food, too. Unfortunately, you didn't eat any."

I gasp and fling the fruit aside. It bounces as it hits the ground, innocently rolling away before coming to a halt. Fausto was killed...by poisonous fruit.

"You couldn't have killed him!" I shake my head. I'm in denial. "He's ranked higher than you!"

"Ranks don't matter," The girl tenses her body as she faces me. "Not when it comes to poison. You should read the rules."

"But—"

Clarice strikes. One moment she's standing across from me, the next her knife is flying for my face. The blade catches just underneath my eye, and blood streams down my face as I slip and fall on the grass. Then Clarice is atop me, pushing the knife towards my face.

My hands grip her wrist, desperately attempting to wrest it from her grip. Fear, dark and pressing, pulses through me. "You're a murderer!"

"Didn't you hear Mr. White?" Clarice's breath is hot against my face as she struggles with my hands. "Everyone here is going to need to become a murderer if they want to survive!"

The knife draws nearer my face. I'm losing the fight. Cold anger builds inside me. "So you're Mr. White's puppet now?"

Raw fury flashes across the girl's face. "I'm no one's puppet! Let alone that bastard Mr. White's! When I finish with the Challengers, I'm coming for him!"

My taunting fails me, as Clarice shakes off my hands and readies to plunge the knife into my heart. My fault. This is all my fault. If only I had let Fausto kill her, then this wouldn't be happening. He wouldn't be dead. I wouldn't be about to die. I'm sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry that I couldn't see you, one last time.

Ding!

Our datapads suddenly go off. Clarice jerks away, rattled by the sudden noise. I see my opportunity. My hand shoots forward and I jab her in the trachea. She gasps and sputters, allowing me to shift my body and unseat her.

"You will pay!" I scream nonsensical words as I stand up, towering over the fallen girl. She hisses and slashes at my ankles with her knife. I step out of her range. "People like you don't belong in society!"

I raise my foot and stomp on the girl's ankle. The swollen one. I never imagined that I would take such vicious joy from a tortured, desperate scream, but now I do. The sound of this murderer in pain brings me comfort.

"Be glad I'm not you," I tell the girl as I bend down and rip the knife from her hands. She's in too much pain to stop me. "Otherwise I'd kill you like you tried to kill me!"