The White Games

22) Chapter Twenty-Two

#5 Victoria Sinclair – Day Six - 12:09 PM

I stumble backwards, mind still foggy from that damn mist Mr. White sprayed me with. It's kinda like being drunk with how unstable and dizzy it makes me, but getting this way was nowhere near as fun it is to get drunk.

The ground lurches and I take a spill, crashing into the side of one of those pretty little white picket fences that surround every damn house. God, I feel terrible. Even forming thoughts is hard...I wonder how much worse off Imogen must be...

Speaking of that brat, where is she? The white smoke that came from that canister is dwindling down, revealing the empty street of this perfect little suburban hell, and Imogen is nowhere to be seen. In fact, Misha is missing too.

Where'd they go?

Something slushes around in my brain as I stand up, like water in my ear. That doesn't make sense. But then, very little has made sense in my life.

The empty streets remind me of that last night before my kidnapping. When I was wasting away in the streets after learning that Aaron had successfully moved on with his life. I wonder if he's watching now, laughing at me. Laughing at that girl he use to know, and whose alcoholism has led her to this dark path.

The smoke has stopped pouring out from the canister. It just lies on the street, looking so fragile and innocent. Without a care in the world.

I hate it!

Why did I have to waste it all? My whole life. Gone, ruined. For what? A few drinks and cheap thrills? Why couldn't I recover from that downward spiral? I slump back against the picket fence, burying my face between my legs.

I never had a life. Never got to earn one. I threw it all away before I had the chance. And now...will anyone miss me? Do I even deserve the honor of that? I wish I could apologize to my parents. They didn't deserve a daughter like me. Better that they had someone else. Someone like—

"I thought you slowed down, Tori."

That voice...

I swing my head up, squint my bleary eyes towards the oh-so familiar figure as she comes pacing out of the shadows. She smiles when she sees me, stopping right before me.

Shauna.

My best friend. Perhaps my only friend. The last time I saw her was the night before all this began, before I drank myself into a stupor and woke up here. But why is she here?

"Did Mr. White capture you too...?" I ask groggily, trying to keep her pretty face in focus. It keeps wavering, like a character from a show you're watching on a bad stream.

She chuckles. "No. No, Tori, I wasn't a bad enough person to earn the privilege of playing this game."

I knew it. I knew that Shauna would never get lumped in with us undeserving people. She's better than us.

"You remember the last time we spoke?" Shauna continues, peering down at me with wide, all-knowing eyes.

I nod. "Yes...I...I pretty much told you that I didn't have anything left to live for and that...that I wanted to die." Hearing myself say these words, after leaving them bottled in for so long, it makes me feel...sad.

"Do you still feel that way?" Shauna's voice is soft and quiet. Not a challenge, just an honest question.

It makes me pause. What do I want...? It's been so long since I've cared. So long since anything was worth caring about. But then I ran into Misha, and somehow, someway, I do care. About one thing in particular.