Chapter 22

308 12 16
                                    

Hey guys! I know it's been a while since I last uploaded, and

I don't really have any good reason... But here's a new chapter...AT LAST.

I noticed that a lot of people have added my story to your libraries, which means A LOT TO ME. Thanks guys! I have a lot of silent readers, if I can call it that. I appreciate that you read at all, but it would mean the world to me if you could leave me a comment now and then. I love feedback!

Oh, and I have to brag, haha. I participated in a big handball tournament this weekend, and my team WON THE WHOLE THING!! So incredibly happy, I've been smiling and bragging about it all day. I literally cried when we played the finals, it was such an amazing experience.

Anyways, this song's chapter is "arms" by Christina Perri. It's meant for the part where Chason and Runa are dancing, and also for the "bedroom scene". I leave it to you guys to figure out the meaning :) Feel free to leave your thoughts below!

ENJOY!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 22

 I don’t even know what to answer to that. So I don’t say anything. We just continue dancing, and eventually, everyone else stops looking at us. Of course, this is the perfect time to talk about our alliance. Whether or not we should be allies. But I don’t want to be the one to bring it up, and neither does he, it seems.

 Then someone clears his throat. Cato’s face is expressionless, and I feel a twinge of guilt. The silence that follows is extremely awkward. Chason still has his arms around me, while Cato glares daggers at him. 

 I quickly move away from Chason. Cato tries to take my hand, but I just walk away from them both. I know I’ve hurt my best friend. Confusion and pain is written all over his face.

 But what can I do? I don’t need this. I can’t stand being around both of them, can’t bear looking at Cato’s hurt expression, or hear Chason’s confusing declarations. Because that’s all they do to me. Confusing me. Messing up my thoughts, making me doubt myself and my own feelings. And I can’t take it.

 I sit down by the first table I come to, which happens to be crowded with the contestants from Grim. Good choice, Runa.

 Rachele is sitting on the opposite side of me, talking with Mikael. Or arguing, I should say. Then Mikael suddenly stands up so quickly that his soup splashes all over the table. I’m surprised that Rachele doesn’t even flinch, considering that a guy twice her size is looking at her murderously. “Fine, whatever. Do what the hell you want, you stupid bitch. But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he growls, a threat clearly behind his words. He stomps angrily towards the elevator, throwing glasses and crystal decorations everywhere, spitting out curses that I’ve never even heard before.

 Rachele turns to the other two Grim boys, sighing tiredly. “Guess we can count him out when it comes to people we can trust,” she tells them. They both nod without further discussion. Guess they really see her as their leader.

 Then she notices me. Her lips pull up in the corners as she looks at me thoughtfully. “Congratulations on your training score,” she says, her voice mocking.

 Oh, how I wish I had scored better than her. “Thanks, you too,” I answer coolly.

 She picks up a blood-red strawberry, dipping it in the chocolate bowl in front of her. “I suppose you heard our little conversation?” she arches an eyebrow.

Don't Play With Death (on indefinite hiatus)Where stories live. Discover now