Royal Games

Chapter 27

Author's notes:

This is a trigger warning for content relating to self harm. I have made it clear where you should stop reading if this may be upsetting for you.

The next day, Megan arranges an afternoon study session with me, Eliza and Zoey. We sit on cushioned wooden seats in a café. Our table is covered in paper, pens, books, and mugs filled with caffeine. Natural light floods the room, as large glass windows give us a lush amber view of the autumnal university campus.

We do manage to get some work done before conversation breaks out. And even though it's much slower, we continue studying as we chat.

"How did the treasure hunt go for you, Eliza?" I ask. "I never actually solved the final clue."

"Me and Madison struggled with that one too. But the sweets were behind the DJ booth in Nite Life. And the surprise was that we could request a song for the DJ to play." Eliza says.

"I would've loved that. What did you request?"

"I didn't. Madison took my request."

"She has great taste in music." Zoey adds.

"So, those two guys you were dancing with. What happened?" I ask. Zoey shares a look with Megan. "Oh my..."

"You didn't!" Eliza blurts out. Zoey giggles. Megan looks embarrassed. "Don't tell me I'm the only virgin here." Eliza groans.

"It's not just you." I reassure her.

"So, you and Isaac haven't...?" Megan lets the question hang in the air.

"No. I was very drunk at the party. And besides, me and Isaac aren't involved in any way, casual or romantic."

"Really? Because from what I've seen, there's attraction on both sides." I can't believe Megan thinks he has feelings for me. I'm not just making it up in my head.

"I hope you're not going to play matchmaker." I don't want to have to reject Isaac simply because now is not the time for me to be in a relationship.

"I wasn't going to." Megan gives me a beaming grin. I mentally kick myself for giving her the idea.

"Seriously Megan. I like Isaac, but I'm not ready for any kind of commitment with anyone."

"Then just tell me when you change your mind."

I'm really grateful that Megan won't try anything. Yet. "Thank you."

A few minutes pass in silence as the four of us continue our work. I'm currently working on a three-thousand word essay due in a few days' time, and I'm barely halfway through. Zoey is also working on an essay, Megan is reading a book, and Eliza is making colour-coded notes.

"I don't want to take down our Halloween decorations today." Zoey whines.

"We can leave them up another day or two," Megan says. "But we do have to take them down."

"I know. But I like seeing the house decorated. We already had to wipe away the bloody handprints on the windows."

"Think of it this way: It will soon be Christmas." Eliza says.

"And then we can decorate the tree and put tinsel everywhere." I add.

"Oh. I want the tree to be as big as we can fit in the living room." Zoey exclaims.

"Not very big then." Megan mutters.

Zoey ignores her. "And I want lot of pretty lights. And..." She continues gushing about her plans for Christmas at Ash House, until Megan tells her she's getting a headache that is distracting her from reading.

In the evening, I go up to my bedroom alone. I don't usually lock the door when I close it. This time, I slide the small metal bolt in place.

Trigger Warning

Since the recent attack, I haven't been left alone to my thoughts. Now, I don't know what to do with them. The hollowness I have felt this past month or so is gradually being replaced by rage and despair. Everything's been bottled up. But I know that bottling up emotions is dangerous. If I don't release my emotions soon, I could end up taking everything out on one of my friends. Or all of them.

I snatch my lamp from my desk. Without pausing to think about it, I toss the lamp across the room. It hits a wall. The glass bulb shatters. I shove everything off my desk. Paper and stationary goes flying. I scream the entire time. I scream as I clear my desk of pointless clutter. As the floor around me becomes carpeted in paper and littered with junk.

I scream as I stomp over to my wardrobe and punch the oval mirror on one door. The mirror splinters and breaks. Sharp shards of silver glass rain down to the floor. Thin lines of blood form on my curled up fist. I finally stop screaming.

I stand still, breathing heavily. Slowly, I lower my bleeding fist to my side. Drops of blood drip from my hand, staining the paper carpet in splotches of painful red. I stare at it. How can this ordinary liquid be the difference between life and death?

A silver glint catches my attention. Transfixed, I bend down to carefully pick up a triangular fragment of broken mirror. I wander over to my bed and sit down, keeping my eyes looked on the glass in my hand. I rotate the shard this way and that, admiring the way it shines.

I lift the shard so that one tip hovers just above the wrist of my uninjured hand. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut. In the darkness, I breathe in and out. In and out. Then I open my eyes. Hesitantly, I lower the glass, letting it graze my wrist. Any lower and I would pierce the skin.

I want the pain I know the broken glass could bring. I don't know how to cope with everything going on in my mind. I need some sort of physical release. But what would hurting myself really achieve? My mum wants to hurt me. That's the whole reason my head is jumbled. If I cut myself with the glass, I would only be acting out my mum's wishes.

With a pained cry, I hurl the shard away from me. It embeds itself in the pale wood of my wardrobe, surrounded by a circle of shards that never fell.

I bring my knees up to my chest and drop my head into my hands. I sob until I fall asleep.