All Your Twisted Secrets

by Diana Urban

But strike a match in a room doused with lighter fluid, and you’re bound to get burned.

“‘Welcome to dinner, and again, congratulations on being selected. Now you must do the selecting. Within the hour, you must choose someone in this room to die. If you don’t, everyone dies.’”

It wasn’t our mistakes that defined us, but how we learned to overcome them. Everyone should have a chance to overcome theirs.

“I’m just tired. I’m tired of trying to make everyone happy, and doing the exact wrong thing. I’m tired of doing the best I can, and it’s never good enough. I’m tired of being manipulated. I’m tired of failing so miserably. I’m. Just. Tired.”

My heart clenched. How did he do that? How did he make me want to simultaneously dissolve into the tiles and leap into his arms with a few simple words?

The thing about being trapped in a room with five other people, a bomb, and a syringe of lethal poison is that at some point, shit’s going down.