Let the Games Begin DreamNotFound

Chapter 27

George POV

"I love you, little brother." 

Tommy's wails echoed off the walls. His body convulsed with shaking and hyperventilating, hands tearing at his hair. Sweat and tears dropped to the blood-slicked floor.

"Breathe, Tommy." George felt helpless, his mind too numb to think of words of comfort, because nothing could comfort the blond right now. 

Foolish hadn't budged from where he stood, watching the heart wrenching scene play out with an amused expression. 

George kept a watchful gaze on the alien, every muscle alive for an attack. He forced an arm around Tommy's distraught form, hauling the blond to his feet. Tommy's head buried in his shoulder, completely limp against him. Hot tears seeped through the fabric to his skin.

Foolish walked in long, smooth strides to the edge of the room. He leaned his back on the white wall, arms crossed in front. His brilliant eyes closed, murmuring a brief reassurance. "There has been one sacrifice. I am a man of my word."

Tommy's feet dragged uselessly, and George clenched his jaw as he practically carried the teen past the alien. Foolish displayed no reaction to their proximity, eyes closed and unmoving. He quickened their pace, not wanting to stay in the same room as the alien for much longer.

This whole time his brother's been dead. George's heart twisted with sympathy. And his brother's murderer has been right next to him, wearing Wilbur's face. He found the deception intriguing, the way it had been planned so twisted and cunning. Ghost played the role of Wilbur perfectly, his actions so calculated he'd even fooled Tommy himself.

Unfortunately for the aliens, Ghost's emotions led him astray from the original plan. He'd given his life to protect the human he'd grown to love as a real brother. 

George doubted Tommy felt the same about Ghost, or maybe the alien's genuine care made the truth hurt all the worse.

Wait. A sudden realization flooded his mind. The footsteps they'd heard in the dark tunnels, had that been Ghost tailing them protectively from the shadows?

"This whole time..." Tommy's whisper interrupted his thoughts. "Wilbur's been dead... mumza and dadza... everyone..."

George's chest crumpled. The outgoing teen sounded... broken. He understood why, what with the trauma Tommy had been through anybody would collapse. He just wished he knew how to help lessen the pain.

"I'm sorry." He offered lamely. 

"I want to give up."

He nearly missed Tommy's hushed confession, and he immediately angled his head to lock eyes with the blond. 

"That's not an option. What do you think your family would do if they heard that?" George spoke with conviction. 

"How would I know?" Tommy's blue eyes shimmered with tears. The skin around his eyes was swollen and pink, proof of his previous crying. "They are dead, they can't do anything!"

"I know they would want you to live. We can't bring back the dead, but we shouldn't add to the list either." George didn't falter. "Who can pass on their memories if you're gone?" 

The blond opened his mouth, a counterargument hanging on his lips, but lowered his head without a word. George watched the fight drain from him, replaced by limp exhaustion. There was no point discussing the topic any further, and he knew better than to push someone grieving. 

George suppressed a sigh and continued through the twisting halls. Words weren't his forte to begin with.

 His feet ached through his worn sneakers, passing nothing but blank white. Where the hell was the exit to this place?! No way in hell am I going back to ask that talking shark.