Beguile

52 The Limit

Whatever I'm doing, it's a mess. I'm not great at this—pathetic, even.

Every move I make feels wrong, and I can't help but think, maybe I should figure out who I really am first. But even that seems impossible. There's no clarity, no sense of self anymore, just layers of confusion and manipulation.

When we finally arrived at the cabin, the sight inside made my stomach churn. The remaining students were there, chained, gagged, their heads covered with sacks. They reeked of sweat and filth, clearly trapped in this hellish state for days. Some of them barely moved, as if the energy had been drained from their bodies.

Kay brushed his fingers against me, a fleeting touch meant to calm me, but all it did was deepen my unease. "We can't do anything yet," he said." That bastard Lucas is really taking his sweet time."

I frowned, feeling more lost than ever. "Why? What are we going to do?"

"Trying to get out of this game," he replied, his words flat, like this whole situation was exhausting him, too. "But it's complicated."

His answer wasn't enough. Nothing about this made sense anymore. Kay spoke like he had some plan, some way out, but how? Every time they mentioned Lucas, it was as if he was orchestrating everything, pulling strings no one else could see. One moment, it felt like Lucas was the mastermind behind it all, controlling every piece on the board. But now, they were acting like they had no control, like they were victims too.

Were they lying? Manipulating me?

When night fell, I slipped away from the others as they slept. I hadn't thought this through, not really. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was being kept from me—by Lucas, Kay, all of them. The others had answers, and I was tired of being in the dark.

I crept toward the students who were chained, their bodies slumped in uncomfortable positions, their heads still covered by sacks. The stench hit me again, a reminder of how long they'd been held here.

If Kay and the others knew about me then maybe our classmates did too.

I knelt beside one of them, hesitating for a second before slowly lifting the sack from her head. Her eyes blinked in the dim light, adjusting to the sudden freedom, fear and confusion clouding their gaze. I didn't recognize them right away, but that didn't matter. I needed answers.

"Hey," I whispered, my voice low but urgent. "I need to know—what's going on? What do you know about me? About all of this?"

The moment her eyes widened in terror, I knew I'd made a mistake. She opened her mouth to scream, and panic surged through me. "No, please—I'm sorry," I blurted out, my hands trembling as I desperately searched for something, anything, that would make her stop. But the creak of the floor behind me sent my heart racing.

Was it a rat? Bugs? Or worse—were they awake?

Without thinking, I grabbed the nearest thing—a heavy vase—and swung. It connected with a sickening thud against her head. The force sent her skull bouncing off the metal pole behind her before she collapsed in a heap on the floor, blood pooling beneath her.

For a split second, I was frozen, staring at what I'd done, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts. The other captives squirmed in their chains, their gagged mouths muffling any sound, their bodies writhing in fear and confusion. But they were no threat.

I dropped the vase, and it clattered on the floor next to her limp body, the sound echoing in the silence. My heart raced as I stared at the blood, my mind scrambling for answers. Was she dead? I struck her so hard—did I really just kill her? I slap myself in frustration. What was I even thinking? Why did I do that?