Just a Game

Remember

HAPPY FRIDAY!!! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I do want to apologize for being away without giving you guys an update for more than two months, but school was being a royal pain. lol. But I do plan on getting back to schedule. Please leave a comment/star, your feedback means more than you know. I hope you guys have a great weekend and I'll see you guys in the next update!

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Alice // chapter four

O N Thursday afternoon, I drove to the library earlier than I normally would. My heart had been driven into this tightly coiled feeling this morning when I'd put A Boy Called It down. And now, as I picked it up, my heart broke out in a race toward the ending of the story.

Only three more pages to go and the fast pace I'd read the book at previously was nowhere to be found. My eyes slowed down, grasping every word written. They all meant something; the end of the final battle.

There was something to be said about a character who has suffered a trauma so great yet doesn't try to play it off. It's almost beautiful to read; absolutely refreshing. It makes you reflect on how you treat life, how you handle every single lemon handed to you, no matter how small. Victimization is often an unconscious part of how we react to situations, but to read of someone way younger than you go through hell-like experiences and reemerge with incredible strength, it's almost embarrassing. But amidst that, there's comfort. It lets you know of the good in the world; it shows the good that can come out of even the most horrendous events.

I closed the book slowly, still in shock that the story had ended. I wasn't ready for it too. I wanted it to go on, to teach me one more lesson about life, about true strength. But there was no more. The last words solidified that and I couldn't help the tears that emerged and fell without control. I didn't stop them, I didn't want to. Actually, I don't know if I could've.

God, this book.

My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden knock on my windows; I nearly jumped out my seat before I caught a sight of Jace standing outside my car, smiling at me with his hands intertwined behind his back. I exhaled a breath of relief loudly and opened my car door, grabbing my belongings in the process before exiting the car.

"You scared the shit outta me, Jace," I said as I locked my car. I turned to him, seeing his smile brighter than ever. My lips couldn't help but turn up in a smile as well. His was too damn contagious.

He laughed. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to," he paused halfway through and a look of distraught sparked in his eyes, "hey, were you crying?"

I raised my eyebrows, unaware of what he was talking about...until I remembered. "Oh, yeah!"

"What, are you okay? What happened?" he asked, his words sounding as if they were crushed together due to the speed at which he spoke. He sounded worried, too worried. He probably thinks something bad happened to make me cry.

What was I supposed to tell him? "Oh yeah, my weak ass cried because of a book?"

"I'm okay," I tried to reassure him, "I was just reading the ending of A Boy Called It and I guess the words got the best of me."

He smiled immediately, the worry in his features vanishing completely. "You finished it?"

I nodded, his contagious smile returning in full force. "I just did, that's why I was stupidly crying in my car. It was an ending like I've never read or seen for that matter."

"Yeah, I know, that's why I recommended it to you," he turned around, gesturing for me to follow him inside the library. Our walk was quick and before I knew it, we were seated at our usual table with our math books out.

However, I didn't want to talk about math today. I really couldn't care less about probabilities right now. There was something else on my mind that has been constantly taking my focus off improperly all day. So, I closed my book sharply, causing Jace to look up at me in question. "You alright?"

"I'm okay," I answered before taking a long breath and finally making the affirmative decision to ask him the question that's been eating me up since I started reading that book, "but are you?"

He arched his eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I just have this feeling that you didn't just recommend that book to me because it was a good read. I just read it and even I wouldn't speak about it the way you do regardless of the fact that I cried a majority of the time while reading it," I pondered on, vocalizing every thought that I had when I was reading the book. There was something about it that made Jace relate to the story; you don't speak of a story or a song or anything, in general, the way Jace speaks of A Boy Called It unless there was a personal connection involved. And maybe it's too earlier in our whatever it is that we are for me to ask him such a personal question, but I didn't care about that either right now. I wanted to know. Surely, if he didn't want to speak of it, I would back off respectfully. But that didn't mean I wasn't going to ask.

He blinked a couple of times, trying to make sense of my question. A flash of understanding crossed his eyes, leaving behind a sense of discomfort tangled with affliction. "What exactly are you asking me, Alice?" His voice was suddenly stiff and I almost backed out of asking him my concerns.

Alas, I sighed and went through with it. "Do you have a personal connection with the story? I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a remarkable one, but no one can speak about something the way you do about this story unless there was something about it that sparked a sense of relation to your story, your past or your present. There has to be something."

He swallowed, closing his book slowly before looking back up into my eyes. He looked guarded as if he was trying to wash off the anguish that was visible in his eyes. But he failed, I saw it too clearly and it did nothing but further my concern for him. "Why are you so sure that I have a personal connection to the story?"

"Because of that right there," I reached for his hand, holding it a tight grip, "that look in your eyes says more than you could put into words. I can tell you're trying to hide it from me and it's okay if you don't want to talk about whatever it is that's put you in so much pain. But, please, don't deny it. It's all in your eyes: the pain, the discomfort, the ridicule."

He closed his eyes and breathed loudly as if trying to calm himself down. When he opened his eyes, I could see the tears he'd tried to pull back from falling and I nearly started crying myself. He looked so distraught, so much in pain. What is going on with him? "You're the only person to ever actually read this book after I recommend it. You know what's funny?"

"What?"

"People lie. Almost everyone I know asks me the same question at some point. What my favorite book is and when I tell them, they either never read it or will never understand why it means so much to me. They never even ask."

"So you never tell them?" I ask and he nodded quickly. I let in a long breath, taking everything in. "Is that why you questioned why I was so sure you had a personal connection to the story?"

"Yeah," his voice was now barely a whisper, "makes you wonder how much people really care, you know?"

I tightened my grip on his hand, wanting to reassure him that I did care about him, regardless of how long I've known him. He was a human being and that was enough for me to care about his well-being. "I know. But please don't think I don't care. I really do. It doesn't matter that I've known you for a very short amount of time. I want you to know that whatever it is, I will listen. With an open heart and an open mind," he began to look away from me and I immediately reached for his face and lightly turned his focus back to mine. Lightly caressing his cheek, I continued. "Stop thinking that whatever this issue is or was makes you less of what you really are. It has nothing do to with how much of a person you are. It could never make someone think less of you and if it does, it's really on them rather than you. We all have a background and not all of it is pretty."

He slowly blinked and when he spoke, my heart dropped.