The Game by L.P. Lovell
18
“We’ll be gone most of the day. Entertain yourself.” Tobias pushes away from the kitchen counter and closes the newspaper before he and Preston leave the room.
A few minutes later and the front door closes and silence reigns through the house. I am completely alone. Is this another test? A trick? Are they expecting me to run again?
I take my coffee into the living room and sit in front of the large picture window. My mind stumbles over itself as my gaze drifts over the skyscrapers. What am I doing? Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t even know who I used to be. My thoughts stray to my life before I met Tobias. Before that interview. To Sawyer and that apartment. Am I crazy?
A pigeon perches on the balcony railing, and I can’t help but think of myself on that bridge last night. The thoughts, the desire, the curiosity of death, then the sudden urge to live. What was my life before Tobias and Preston? Why can’t I remember? Why is everything so muddled and confusing? How has my life suddenly turned into a modern-day version of Alice Through the Looking Glass? I contemplate until my eyes drift shut from worry, and before I know it, I’ve fallen asleep on the sofa.
I jolt awake at the touch of someone’s fingers on my cheek. The dull dusk of evening spills through the windows as Tobias leans over the back of the sofa. “Get dressed. It’s time for us to play, little lamb.”
* * *
The car exits the interstate,curving around the hairpin turn as we weave between the old city buildings, most with boarded-up windows. Rusted cars, full of dents and smashed windshields line the street when we finally roll to a stop not far from a homeless shelter. I want to ask where we are going as we get out, but…rules.
Preston holds out his arm and I take it, clinging to him because I genuinely think I may get stabbed on this side of town.
“The world is full of people, Ella,” Tobias says as he stops in front of a dark alleyway. “Some are important, others are not.”
The smell of urine and garbage hangs heavy in the air, and I fight the urge to bury my face in Preston’s jacket. “Do you know why we're here, little lamb?” Tobias's hand wraps around the back of my neck, his thumb stroking gentle circles against my skin. It makes me uneasy because anytime they’re nice to me with gentle touches and sweet words, it means something horrible is about to happen. “Welcome to game number four...”
Preston moves in front of me. The smile on his lips makes my heart beat faster with both excitement and fear. “What do you think your life is worth, sweet Ella?”
What is my life worth? It's a question I don't want to answer because the truth is: To anyone but me, it's worthless.
“Words, Ella. Use words.” Impatience bristles from Tobias.
“I don't know.”
“Tsk-tsk.” Tobias shakes his head as a slow smirk works across his lips. “If you don't know what it's worth, it must be menial.”
“Nothing,” I whisper, almost hating myself for admitting it.
Preston’s fingers sweep along the side of my neck. “You're worth nothing to anyone but us.”
Although the words hit me hard, I try to keep my expression void of any feelings. The silence that follows my confession seems to stretch on forever. Preston glances at Tobias, Tobias glances at me as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it. The flame bounces from the brick walls of the alley, casting eerie shadows. “If it weren't for us, would you even want to go on living? I know you thought about jumping last night. Did you wonder what it would be like to not exist, to not worry about how pitiful you actually are?”
“Yes.” I did. My life is nothing more than a pile of rubble, unwanted and ugly. This is all I have—They are all I have. How pathetic have I become to find salvation in men such as these? And worse, I need them. Slowly, bit by bit, piece by piece, I'm losing myself to that and I'm finding it hard to convince myself any of this is wrong. As the days go by, I'm losing my grasp on reality, on the fact that this is all just a sick game.
“I'm so glad you didn't jump.” Preston kisses my cheek. “I like playing with you.”
Tobias laughs. “My pitiful little lamb, she wanted to throw herself on the altar, Preston. Sacrifice her meaningless existence, but she didn't. Ella, why didn't you jump?”
“Because you had us?” Preston asks.
“Because you had salvation?” Tobias adds.
“I didn't want to die.” It's pathetic really, the way that basic survival instinct pushes you to go on even with nothing to go on for.
“But were you ever really living, Ella?” Tobias grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. “I mean, really. You were with a guy who fucked around on you. You went to your dull little job making barely over sixty-thousand a year.” Whereas to most people, sixty-thousand is plenty, I know to these two men it’s nothing. They pay women millions of dollars just to torment them in this fucking game. Then again, none of them survived, did they? So I suppose they never had to pay anyone.
Tobias and Preston live this shiny, corrupt life of luxury, removed from the real world. Normal people work jobs they don't like, they stay in shitty relationships because it’s easier. The fact that was my life doesn't make me a bad person, it just means I’m one of life's statistical averages. “Plenty of people do that,” I say.
Tobias laughs. “Yes, lots of people merely exist. There are plenty of inferior people.”
Preston sweeps hair from my neck. “You don't want to be inferior, sweet Ella. You are too beautiful for that.”
My pulse slowly picks up as both men circle me like vultures, the click of their heels echoing from the dark alley.
“You are too perfect for all that,” Tobias whispers. “And you taste much too sweet to be treated like waste. A diamond in the rough, my little lamb, that is what you are.”
“You deserve more. You deserve to be superior,” Preston says. “You deserve to be like us, sweet Ella.”
For a moment, I forget we’re standing in a filthy alleyway. I forget everything around me is desolate and ugly because all I can see is them. All I hear is them telling me I'm better. Superior. Telling me that I am worthy of them, of their affection, their desire, their respect. Beautiful lies that I want so badly to believe.
“Do you believe you deserve more, Ella?” Tobias asks.
My throat tightens and I can't find words. I open my mouth to speak—
“Careful, little lamb. Don't lie. I'd hate to give you another strike and end the game so soon.”
So I answer truthfully: “No...But I want to deserve it.” Deserve them… How twisted have I become in just three days?
A deep frown cuts over Tobias’s face. “I thought she was better than this.”
“She just needs work.” Preston pats Tobias on the back. “She wants to be special.”
Tobias studies me as he places his cigarette to his lips. A wisp of smoke drifts into the bleak night air—It all seems too perfect, too staged. Everything about him is poised and rehearsed, like he's never unprepared, always anticipating. “Sweet little lamb, if I had a heart, I do believe you may break it.”
“Don't give up yet, Tobias. We still have three more days to save her.”
Save me?From what? They’re the only thing I need saving from, aren’t they?
Tobias nods before dropping the cigarette to the pavement and stomping the toe of his shoe over it. “Shall we play then?” He turns and starts down the alleyway.
Darkness engulfs me as I follow Tobias to God knows where. “Game four.” His voice bounces between the dilapidated buildings, and my senses grow all too aware of everything around me. The drip of a pipe, the rustle of some creature going through the garbage. Something brushes my ankle and I scream.
A hand slams over my mouth, yanking me back against a firm chest. “Now, now, little lamb. You'll scare our friend here.”
Preston shines the flashlight on his phone toward the dumpster. A filthy man sits huddled beneath a piece of cardboard, his outstretched arm still reaching for me. He grins at me through a thick beard. Most of his teeth are missing and the ones remaining are black.
“Pretty, pretty...” He mumbles over and over. “Smells like sunshine.”
“He’s a heroin addict,” Tobias says, disdain heavy in his voice. “He chose to be inferior, and much like you—before us of course—he has nothing. But he'll have no savior to pull him from the wreckage of his wretched life, unless…” Tobias curls a piece of my hair around his finger, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Do you want to save him, little lamb?”
My attention veers back to the man. He has an empty bottle of liquor clutched in his scabbed-covered hands. Some people may say he’s made his bed and needs to lie in it, but I can’t help but feel pity. Surely no one chooses to end up destitute—like I could have had I not signed that contract.
“Ella,” Preston whispers. “Look at him. Look how disgusting he is.” The hateful words don't seem to bother the man. He simply laughs and picks at one of his festering scabs, oblivious.
Tobias’s warm breath dances over my neck, the only comfort in this place where the most desperate reside. “He is what I refer to as a drain. A leech—Worthless.”
“He has no family. No friends,” Preston continues.
“Just like you, little lamb, he has no one.” Is this truly what awaits me without them? Homeless and hopeless.
“But, Tobias...Ella has us.”
Tobias strokes my hair away from my cheek. “So, she has us, and he has nothing.” His deep laugh rumbles down the empty alleyway as he shifts away from me.
He paces in front of the man, not bothering to look at him. “What do you want?”
“I just need a...” The man swallows, still scratching at his sores. “I just need a little hit. Just some money. A little hit…”
“See?” Tobias faces me. “Not food or shelter or clothes, or even a bath. All he wants is his vice. That is all his life is. He is a servant to his own filthy desires.”
I don’t know why he’s saying this. Why does any of this matter to someone like Tobias?
“Tell me, Ella,” Preston says. “If you found a stray dog on the street and it looked as sick and disgusting as—” He shoves the man with his foot, but he doesn't seem to notice—” This man, wouldn't you put it out of its misery?”
How am I supposed to answer that? “I wouldn’t want any living thing to suffer.”
They both laugh. Preston pulls a small bag from his pocket and holds it up to the light. The moment the man notices the white powder, he stumbles to his feet, reaching for it, but Preston snatches it away. “This is all he wants. Heroin.” He places the baggie in my palm. “Go ahead. Give it to him.”
“Yes, pretty!.” Excitement cracks the homeless man’s voice. “Give it to me.”
This is it? Give an addict his fix? I wrinkle my brow, confused.
“Or...” Tobias pulls a wad of cash from his pocket then proceeds to flip through it. “One-hundred, two-hundred, three-hundred...” He counts out money, but the man's gaze never strays from the bag of heroin. “One-thousand dollars.” Tobias hands the crisp bills to me. “Give him that.”
I look between the three men. “I don't understand.”
“What is there to understand, Ella? You give him the drugs or you give him the money.”
I glance at both now resting in my hands. Which should I give him? He may just spend the money on drugs, but that’s his decision. At least I’d be giving him a chance. He could get help if he wanted, find shelter, get clean...have a chance at a better life. If I give him the drugs, it’s just one more hit pushing him further into the pit of despair.
“Give him one or the other, or you lose,” Tobias says impatiently. “It's not a hard decision, Ella. It's not like I'm putting a gun in your hand and asking you to blow his worthless brains out.”
Inhaling, I focus on the man as I step across the cracked pavement. I don't want to give him the drugs. I don't want to give him the money. “If I give you this money, what will you do with it?”
“Food and clothes,” he says in a rush.
“Would you go to a shelter and get help?”
“Oh, yes. Yes!” His eyes well with tears and his head hangs on a sigh. “I don't want to be like this. I used to be like you...”
Tobias groans. “Put him out of his misery. Just give him the fucking drugs.”
“Do what's right, sweet Ella. I believe in you,” Preston whispers.
I glance between the three men once again, uncertainty rising in my chest. Finally, I step closer and the man’s stench nearly makes me sick. “Do you promise you’ll get help?”
“Yes,” the man whispers.
I could stand here and debate which is the lesser of two evils all day, but in the end, I go with the choice I feel I can live with and hand him the money.
Tears stream down his cheeks when he takes it. “God bless you.” Then he hurries down the alley, disappearing into the dark of night.
Silence hangs in the air for a moment. Tobias and Preston’s disappointment is palpable as we head back toward the car.
“One-thousand dollars won't help him,” Preston says.
What just happened seems too simple to be a game. Too easy, too…just not like them.
Morality, is that the question here? Are they comparing my morals to theirs? And I start to wonder if this is a test to see if I’m suited for something much more malevolent than the seven days I originally promised them.