Rules of Survival | afi

6

Damaged people are dangerous. They know how to make Hell feel like home.

•••

I thought I'd sleep like a rock. I haven't really been all that nervous up until this point. But with the competition hanging over my head, starting in mere hours now, I'm tossing and turning most of the night until I just can't take it any longer.

Ashton is still asleep when I slip out of bed, running my fingers through my wild hair. I keep my footsteps as light as possible as I head to the door, but just as my hand hits the knob a noise stops me.

It's Ashton. At first I think I've woke him up, but then realize that's not the case. He's grunting in his sleep, twisting around so violently he shakes the bed frame. He must be having a nightmare.

"No." He mumbles, and I realize with a jolt that he sounds as if he's crying. "Angie."

I start to move to help him, wake him, but stop myself. There's no telling how he would react. He already dislikes me as it is. I fear this would screw things up even more, put even more of a distance between us.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I turn the knob and exit the room.

***

To my surprise, the training center is decently full. My wristband reads 3:15 am. Normally I would just check my phone, but since they aren't allowed on the island I just left it at home. It's not like I have any family to contact before I head into the death match.

Back at the flimsy apartment I call home, whenever I couldn't sleep I'd walk to the fitness center down the street. It's a way I can get my mind off things. Luckily, the center has a section set off just for that, and I head straight to the boxing bags.

It's not empty. There's one other girl, her back to me, but when I pick up the course wrapping cloth to slip around my knuckles I hear her clear her throat.

"Couldn't sleep either?"

I recognize the voice. Sure enough, when I turn around, I'm met with the girl from lunch yesterday. Wren, I think.

"Just thought I'd warm up my muscles a bit." I lie, rolling my shoulders.

Wren shrugs. To my surprise, I notice she's unwrapping her knuckles. She must have been boxing before I came up.

"Have you thought about Michaels suggestion?" She asks the question I was expecting.

Squaring my feet, I still the swaying sand-bag with my hands. "Yes. We both have."

Wren raises an eyebrow. She looks tired, baggy eyes and sunken cheeks, probably a mirror of myself. "And?"

"We think it could work."

Her expression doesn't really change, and I get the feeling that this was more of Michael's idea than hers.

"Ok, I'll let him know."

Wren starts to walk away, but I stop her. She whips around with frightening speed when my hand comes in contact with her arm, but I draw away as if I didn't notice.

"Do you want to do this?"

She seems to debate answering or not, biting on the inside of her cheek, before she sighs.

"I want to for Michael. I know it's only been two days, but I know that he deserves a chance to win this. I know he's a good person. Whatever he wants to do, I will comply. Even if it means risking my life."

She says it so matter of fact that I almost want to agree with her, even though I don't know much about their situation. Instead of asking another question, because I have plenty, I just nod.