Sacrificial

Chapter 11: Trains of Sacrifice

I spring up from my bed. I pull my knees into my chest, looking around. Sweat dripping from my forehead. My hands shaking. Five. "Five people I know that are still alive. I am. So is Harlin, Miria, Alisdar, Bereta, and Attikus." I squeeze my hands together and then apart and then together again. Attikus. Attikus is still alive, but for truly how long. He risked his own life in a game he cannot win.

My door swings open. "Are you alright?" Attikus asks, holding a lamp he pulled from the wall in his hands. A lamp? I blink a few times as the hallway blares into my otherwise dark room. I nod. I open and close my eyes a few times more. "It didn't sound like it. You were screaming." He slowly walks around my room and starts checking every corner. He does not need to protect me. I know the ending. If he hopes to change his, he needs to focus on himself.

"It was just a nightmare," I say, shaking my head. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"He's not the only one you woke," Harlin says, leaning in the doorway. Surprisingly, he is missing his attachment of booze.

I sigh. "I'm sorry for waking you as well. I was sure you were passed out from the booze."

"Not tonight," he says, looking into the room. He pushes himself off the wall. "Seems cruel to her," he whispers to himself, walking away. He doesn't care about me going back in.

Attikus asks if I am alright as he walks around my room further. He even peers under the bed. I nod, quickly pushing that question away by asking the time. He tells me just before three, and I should go back to bed because I haven't gotten that much sleep. I laugh, shaking my head. "So should you. We have a long month ahead of us, and you need to get your sleep. You worry about you. I got me." He opens his mouth but stops himself and looks down at his hands. He wrings them together. He looks back up toward me and studies me for several long seconds before he walks out, his head sunken in a little bit. We need to be competitors. He has to know that. Why he Sacrificed himself in the first place is the question?

I stand to walk outside my room, but as I hear the door woosh open, I walk back toward my bed. The door closes just as quickly. I sit on my bed, pulling my knees into my chest. I know this is a bad idea, but still, I turn on the screen. The screen glows white for only a second before it starts flashing the picture of Lazar Casmaro. Lazar rambles for several minutes before three people walk onto the stage.

Two I remember the other is new to me. The two I know are Survivors who came before me. The first was sixteen years before me. He was from Region 2. He truly killed everyone that got in his way. He left body after body in his wake. A total of fifteen. Though they think there were three more that could be attributed to him. That is eighteen out of a total of 34. More than half the field.

The other was from seven years before me from Region 10. She didn't kill anyone on her own for almost the entire Tournament. Instead, tricking others into killing for her. She would run around and use small trails to lead Sacrifices into each other, forcing them to fight or die, all while she watched with disturbing precision. She only killed the last person. Even then, she lured him into a place she knew. She killed him before he had time to realize what was going on. No one could fault her for her cunning.

The third, I miss where he is from or what year he won, but there is little to no chance it was before me. They drone on about how this year will be unlike any other because we know the twist before we even enter the arena. The twist being us. Adults, for a change, playing the deadliest of games.

They show our Selections. They start with 17. They show my entrance, and I can only stare in disbelief. This is who they admire. All I see is how scared she is. This fake bravado cracks with every second. They drone on about how this is a miracle. This is going to make things so much different than any year ever before. How they are all going to have to watch me and see exactly what happens. They go on and on. Several minutes pass before they finally stop talking about me and move on to Attikus. They talk about how it isn't surprising that someone volunteered because I was there. There is no way that within this region, there wouldn't be one person who wanted to work with or protect the Angel of Death. It was just a miracle he was first. Truly a sick miracle.