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There were few moments in my life when it felt like I was speeding toward them, only for time to come to a screeching stop when they finally arrived. The last big game of the football season. Getting my license. Graduation. And now this. Signing up to compete in the Devil’s Playground.
If fate, the universe, or whatever fucked up god out there wanted me to be a monster, then I would become a creature like they’d never known. I’d rip my heart from between my ribs and leave my conscience bloody and bleeding in the street. A veritable river of carnage left in my wake, bodies stacked higher than Lady Liberty.
If love wasn’t the answer, then violence was my only option.
I didn’t care what it did to me on the inside, I could repent later. Tonight, I would feed the monster and then, once I’d made an offering to my goddess, all would be forgiven.
My fingers moved before I could overthink it, typing in my usual moniker for PVP shooters. KillerKohl.
Ugly tossed my ID onto the small lip of the counter. I moved to pick it up and he grabbed my forearm, jerking me forward to fasten what looked like a smartwatch around my wrist. As innocuous as it appeared, I knew that the watch would provide vital information to the Architects—the sick fuckers who managed the games—like my heart rate and where I was in the arena. It would also trigger cameras as I got close, letting the viewers stay up close and personal and providing me with a live feed of their comments and critical updates about the game itself. “If you take that off, you’re disqualified,”
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A bundle of tarp-like material was pushed into my arms with a marker. My nose wrinkled as I recognized what the lumpy object was. “This is your body bag and a Sharpie. After this, you’ll follow the walkway into the prep tent. Your stylist will be waiting for you there. Write your name, address, and the phone number of your next of kin on the paper tag in the front pocket. You’ll then strip and place all personal items in the bag. Don’t worry, Killer_Kohl, if you die, we’ll ship your corpse back to your rich-ass daddy.”
It wasn’t unusual for a contestant to get this far and then try to pull out—unfortunately for them, once you’d signed the waiver and entered the playground, the only way out was to win.
My eyes lingered on a girl near the front as she gushed about her outfit. “Isn’t it just going to look beautiful with all the blood splattered on it?” she asked. “I know there are some fetish viewers out there that would pay big bucks to get a sneak peek under a bloodied skirt. What do you think? Is this too–”
“I’m more interested in what you’ll be wearing.” She circled the chair so I could catch her face in the mirror as she studied my measurements on the screen. “Killers are so boring most of the time, you know. But this year they went with this edgy, cyber punk theme—you’ll love it, it’s very video game.”
To the left of me was a particularly muscular man in nothing but a tight tank top and jeans. He held a large machete over his head, checking himself out in the mirror. His stylist leaned close to him, bright red paint on her hand, and pressed it flat just over his chest. “Lift your tank top a bit, girls will go feral if they see a bit of blood when you raise your arms,” she said to him. “I think they’ll notice the difference between fake and real blood,” he said. The stylist let out a laugh. “Oh don’t worry,” she said, still giggling. “It’s real.”
“You got it! A green mask work for you?” I wrinkled my nose. She laughed. “Not green then, what would you prefer?” A flicker of violet chiffon tugged at my memory, my mouth curving into a cocky grin as I looked into the mirror. “Purple.”
I couldn’t allow myself to stay the same Kohl who’d promised her I wouldn’t enter. I’d have to be someone—something else entirely. A killer. Entering the arena as the Kohl pining after a girl who had no idea I was about to throw my life away for her was a death warrant. It wasn’t just enough for me to play. I needed to win.
Hard to turn civilians into murderous psychos if you couldn’t promise for them to be filthy rich, famous, and allegedly happy with a white picket fence and two point five kids.
In that moment, I stopped being a Seeker. As I looked around me, I saw the other players for what they were. Killers and Ghosts. Property of the game. Disposable. Obstacles that stood between me and my offering. I couldn’t disappoint her, my goddess was waiting.
A small but powerful electric wave of blood lust. It traveled the crowd, railing up the Killers and causing the offerings to curl in on themselves. They were like lambs going to slaughter and all of us Killer were barely restrained wolves, gnashing our teeth at them. And soon our leash would be cut.
It wouldn’t do me any real good to watch where the crowd went, not until I could identify which Ghost was mine, but something was pulsing in my veins. The predator that I denied in my DNA stirred to life like a bear from hibernation. Or like a demon crawling out of the pits of hell.
I’d spent my entire life on a fucking pedestal, paraded around like an accessory to prove that the games worked. That you could rip yourself out of poverty for the tiny, insignificant price of your humanity. It made me sick, to watch people praise my parents for the horrifying things they’d done in their games. And yet here I was, offering up my soul just like them.
He handed back my ID. “Wrist.” I sighed, offering him my right arm. “This is your tracker. It’ll let you know how long is left until sunrise, how many players are remaining, your assigned Seeker, and any other important information from the Architects. It also lets us know when to come collect your corpse. Do not take it off.”
Around us, stylists ran between stations, pulling clothes from long racks and dusting glitter along cheekbones and on the tips of noses. It was a little fucked up to me to apply highlighter that’d only be seen if you were dead, but hey, I was just a cog in The Corporation’s twisted death game.
As big of a part staying alive by your own merit was, you also needed to convince the viewers to help you—to follow your storyline. If you were interesting, or at the very least desirable, they might just choose to save your life. Ugly people were worthless. Uninteresting people were disposable. That was the reality of the game I was playing.
Not like it would do me any good to text Kohl now. Once they realized what I’d done—that I’d lied to them and entered the games anyway—they were going to fucking lose it. But I didn’t have time to worry about that shit, I needed to get my head in the game. That meant forgetting about them. And all the shit I’d never say. And the fact that the last thing they’d remember of me is that I’d used them. Fuck.
No, I was going to survive this. And then I’d tell them everything. Y’know, like that I’d been in love with them since the day we met. And that I didn’t want them to be a casualty in my fucked-up disaster of a life.
“We should stick together for the first couple hours, then split up when the pack starts to thin.” Given I didn’t have any other allies, I nodded in agreement. I just hoped that we’d both find a way to survive this. It’d be a bummer to watch the Custodians spray her brain matter off the concrete.
Turns out it didn’t matter how famous you or your parents were or how much money you had, a bullet to the brain would kill you just the same.
“Then hire new people,” I fought in a harsh whisper. “You know I need this job. Why else would I stay here just to get pummeled into the ground? You think I’m some kind of masochist?” Okay, fine, I was. But I only cared to suffer at the hands of one person. My goddess. I’d let her divine vengeance reign on me in any way she pleased.
We passed by a section of the park dedicated to fair games. Bright red flashing signs hung from the entrance, enticing a few Ghosts to try their luck in the measly amount of time we had left. Prizes hung from the stalls, but instead of colorful stuffed animals and inflatable hammers, it was full of guns, knives, spiked baseball bats, and explosives waiting like trophies. Some of them already had blood on them.
That same, ear-piercing, shrieking alarm sounded warning us that danger was coming. The sound had been ingrained into my mind front the first game I’d ever watched. The same as the ones used for tornadoes and floods. Designed specifically to be unmissable—and to incite anxiety. To make you want to run. The Seekers are coming.
An electronically cheery, staticky announcement played over the speakers. “Welcome to Hide and Seek! The game is easy. If you’re hiding, stay hidden. If you’re seeking, find and eliminate. Seekers have now entered the arena, prepare for combat.”
My memories blurred with the present. The smell of popcorn and burned sugar was bright in my nose, the sounds of whooshing rides coming to a halt, the pings of the carnival games around us. All of it so similar to the comforting ...
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Like most Legacies, I’d watched every Games since I was a kid. It was just a part of my life. When I was little, it was like I didn’t quite understand that they were real. It was too unrealistic to my pampered, childlike mind that people could really be desperate enough to sign up for their deaths. That they could possibly have something they needed so badly that dying was preferable to going without it. What I wouldn’t give to be that naive again.
Finally, rule number three: If all else fails, fight for your life.
Purple had three other people with them now, their masks glowing in the dark like a demented rainbow.
My hands itched to touch her skin just like he had. To come up behind her, put my hand on her back, and whisper in her ear. For her to lean into me and laugh the way she did with the rest of the popular crowd. Wait, am I— I turned away from the group, embarrassment hitting me like a slap to the face. What was I on? Getting jealous because of some stupid jock? Of my brother? It was a fucking joke.
Shame made my face hot as I headed back into the school, but I already knew I was fucked. Victoria had planted a seed in my mind, and it was growing, slowly causing all my thoughts to revolve around her. My crush was quickly becoming an obsession. And I wasn’t interested in stopping it.
I brought my knee up, nailing my attacker in the groin, and they hissed but didn’t waiver. “Fuck!” I shouted. It was just my luck that my attacker had the balls to murder me in cold blood, but no cock for my low-blow shot to make a difference.
I slipped my fingers into the band of the Seeker’s mask and ripped it off, my entire world turning on its axis as the eerie purple glow illuminated a familiar face. Kohl’s lips were split into a smile I’d never seen before, the corner of their mouth hooked into a manic grin as they watched me struggle against them. I wanted to scream, to tell them who I was, but I didn’t have the air in my lungs to do it. Tears slipped out of my eyes as the world shrank to their overblown pupils, the honey brown that I’d loved in their stare all but shrouded in a mass of black.
With the last of my strength, I used my trembling fingers to pull my mask off. Kohl froze, their fingers loosening immediately as shock and horror rocketed over their expression. I took in a ragged gulp of air, sputtering and coughing. “You fucking—” I gasped, my voice raspy from being choked within an inch of my life, as I slapped them as hard as I could. “Asshole!”
The weight of the weapon in my hand doubled since attributing a kill to it. I gripped it tightly, afraid that the extra weight might cause it to slip from my fingers, leaving me defenseless.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “That sounded like it hurt.” She was close, I could feel her even if I couldn’t see her through the mirrors. “Come out, come out, wherever you are, little rabbit,” I sang, unable to keep the excitement from my voice.
Her hands loosened on my arms. She was giving up. Or at least I thought… until they fell to her face, where she used the last of her strength to tear off her mask. Shock shot through my veins, burning where my skin touched hers. I ripped my hands off her, unable to come to terms with what I was seeing. The little white rabbit. The Ghost that I’d been chasing after this entire time… I knew her. Not only did I know her… she’d single-handedly ruined any other woman for me. Victoria.
I couldn’t stop myself. Blame it on the adrenaline. Maybe the anger at seeing her. The anger from her so obviously trying to hide from me. The person who had been willing to not only put their life on the line but kill for her as well. Maybe it was her closeness, the smell of the sweat on her skin mixed with the bitter peachy perfume she always wore. Or maybe it was the memory of her writhing against me—begging me not to stop—even if both of us knew we shouldn’t have been doing what we were. Or maybe it was just her. The same Victoria that’d been living in my dreams and haunting my nightmares.
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I gripped her messy hair, tangling my hands in it and using it to keep her under my control as I ravaged her mouth. I expected her to fight me after what I did. To kick and scream and force me off. But instead, her hands wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me closer. I was on my knees in front of her and used my free arm to wrap around her waist, forcing her to straddle me. Glass embedded into my skin through the fabric of my pants, but I welcomed the bite.
I let out a low groan when her teeth bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, shuddering against her. “Fuck you,” she growled. But before I could pull away, her hands were trailing my arms and chest.
My mouth found her neck with the same vigor as I had her lips, licking and sucking until my kisses and bites blossomed into bruises against her fair skin.
I let go of her to run my hands up her sides, slipping my fingers into her sports bra before running them over her nipples. “God, do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch these?” I groaned against her neck, biting down hard, letting her feel all the frustration that I’d be suppressing since I’d last seen her.
I leaned forward, but instead of taking her nipple fully into my mouth, I looked up at her as I circled it with my tongue. She gasped when I did so, telling me my little act had the desired effect on her. I couldn’t stop the smirk from spreading across my lips. “Delicious,” I said with a laugh. Her face twisted as if she was ready to launch into an argument, but I shut her up by pulling the tightening bud firmly into my mouth and nibbling on it. “Ah, fuck, like that,” she moaned.
A strangled moan came out of her mouth, drawing my eyes to hers, only to see she wasn’t looking at me at all. I followed her gaze to the ceiling, heat bursting through me when I saw what she was seeing. The two of us were reflected in the mirrors all around us, covered in blood and looking worse for wear. We were panting, our skin flushed and lips swollen from the intensity of our hurried kisses. From this angle, I could make out her nipples shining with my spit, and my hand shoved between her legs. Even as I met her eye in the mirror, her hips kept bucking against my hand.
Their breathing hitched as they hit my waist and hips, and I looked down, my face heating. My cover-up was entirely see-through, giving Kohl a perfect view of my abused cunt and the slickness on my thighs. A devilish part of me wanted to tell them about the unanswered arousal that was vibrating beneath my skin, just to see what they'd say. To see what they’d do.
Their words should’ve shocked me. Should’ve snapped me out of this spiraling need for them. But when they touched me, it was like every fiber of my being was singing. My body—and mind—were begging me to lean forward and taste those fucking scars of theirs.
