by Amanda Adair
Actually, you should know that Layla is my girlfriend, she says and watches her parents’ faces darken.
Of course, her parents deny their relationship. You’re just confused, they say. You don’t know what you’re talking about.
They shut up as soon as Mia walks upstairs and comes back with two suitcases. She tells them they should reconsider their opinion, otherwise they’d never see her again. Mia wants to move to Berlin, stay at a hostel for a couple of weeks and look for an apartment. Layla will soon join her, move in with her, improve her German and study at the Berlin University of the Arts.
“Alright,” I say and look at the other girls. “If you did not know, now you do. I’m in love with a girl. I’ve told some of you.” I turn back towards her. “I’ve told you, I remember. I’m just curious how you know about Mia and her parents.”
She shrugs. She’s obviously taken by surprise. She doesn’t know what to say.
“Hello?,” Allie says. “Answer her question.” Why is Allie so emotional? Did she figure something out about her as well? Did she go through our things? Our phones? I’m a chill person but I don’t like people who sneak around.
“I think you’ve mentioned Mia,” she says. “And I know some parents still have problems with the sexuality of their children. It was just a guess.”
“Trust me,” Hannah says, “she has a vast imagination.” She looks at her up and down. “Apparently she lives in her own world.”
“There’s one left,” she says, without looking at me or Hannah. “Tana, lay down in the middle.”
chapter 27
TANSY
The mood shifted from cheerful to surreal and scary within minutes. It doesn’t feel like a party anymore. It doesn’t feel right. As Gigi tells the stories about those girls, something tells me to leave this place immediately. To stop listening, open my eyes and go to bed. Maybe it’s the alcohol that convinces me to stay. I feel less dizzy and intoxicated with every hour that passes. I’ve lost my sense of time. I have no idea what time it is or how long we’ve been sitting here, listening to Gigi voice that seems like she’s in trance.
The only one who doesn’t care is Layla. She’s okay with her telling stories about the most private details of her life. Hannah is furious. She looks like she’s about to grab a knife and stab her.
When she starts telling my stories images of hospital beds and injections and blood flash in front of my eyes. I have to think about everything that’s wrong with my life and everything I wish to be different. I like the first story. I want it to become true. Become reality. But the second one is torture. It hurts me.
She’s hurting my soul.
Tana Sydney Rhodes is a tough but sweet girl. She’s gone through much worse scenarios than most of us ever will. She isn’t afraid of spiders (Arachnophobia) or snakes (Ophidiophobia), of heights (Acrophobia) or flying (Aerophobia), or even injections (Trypanophobia). She doesn’t need help to remove a spider from her kitchen or bedroom. She knows vaccinations are important, so she lets the nurses and doctors do their job. She loves flying and climbing mountains or enjoying the view from a skyscraper.
^The only thing Tana is afraid of is her father.
Her father doesn’t live in Cherokee, it’s where she fled to with her mom. They live in her grandma’s house. They don’t have anyone else left. No family members and no friends. Her father’s a charismatic man. When he says he would never hurt a fly, they believe him. When he says he didn’t hurt anyone, they believe him. They meaning neighbors, colleagues, his parents and the police. No one is willing to help Tana and her mom. They’re on their own.
It isn’t impossible for him to find them though. They have nowhere else to go but Mr. Rhodes knows where his mother-in-law lives. On a stormy night Tana sits on the couch while her grandma’s at the grocery store. She isn’t watching TV while shoving high-calorie snacks into her mouth. She’s reading a book. Non-fiction. It doesn’t matter what book she’s reading because she can’t finish it. She will never finish the book. As soon as the door opens and some heavy steps are audible, she knows it’s him.
Stop, I think. Stop. Stop. JUST STOP. I can’t listen to this, but I can’t move. I want to get up and leave. I don’t want to hear this. It hurts too much. She doesn’t know shit. She thinks she knows what’s going on, but she doesn’t. I have no idea where she got this from. Who told her. How she knows. The internet? Social media? New articles about a guy who attacked his wife and daughter? Did she know it’s me? I just want her to stop releasing those words and phrases, assumptions and horror scenarios.
The light from the floor lamp lures him into the living room.
Tana, he says.
She can’t move. She’s stiff and motionless. The first punch meets her stomach. The second one her face. He yells at her, blames her for losing her mother, their marriage and their happy family life. She screams but no one can help her. No one can hear her. Only when her grandma finds her she can be finally brought to the emergency room of the local hospital. She thinks she’s dying. She feels like she’s dying or falling into a coma.
I need a few minutes before I can open my eyes again. I hear Layla’s voice asking me if I’m okay. I didn’t realize I’ve been crying the whole time. Gigi told us to keep our eyes closed, so the other girls didn’t see my pain until I open my eyes. They’re all staring at me. They look shocked but caring. Like they want to take away my pain.
“You psycho,” Hannah says. “Don’t you see what you’re doing?”
“That’s cruel, Gigi,” Layla agrees and hugs me as soon as I sit up. “You made her cry.”
It wasn’t Gigi who made me cry. It was the memory of my father and the vision of what he might do to me.
chapter 28
GIGI
I honestly don’t know how to explain any of this to those girls. I don’t know exactly what I’m doing here. I found this blog of a girl named Charlie. She wrote about this game and that the players either experience something amazing or horrible afterwards. I don’t care about spooky things like witches or ghosts. I don’t believe in any of this and I’m not someone who likes reading fantasy or horror novels or watching movies, or series of these genres.
I feel bad because of what I’m doing.
The only reason why I came across Charlie’s blog is because I was desperate. I was trying to find help. I wanted Hannah Ludwig and Allison Parker to stop being bitches and bully those around them. They’re horrible people, constantly making fun of others, cheating and lying. They’ve once stole the answers to a test and then told the teachers that I stole them and sold them. The teachers believed them more than they believed me. Because they’re extraverted and charming girls. That’s how it goes. Hannah and Allison do whatever the fuck they want and they get through with it.
Nobody’s stopping them. Except me. Tonight.
Charlie’s blog gave me hope. Originally, I’ve come across her blog by googling for tips against bullying. She’s been bullied in middle school and she shared her experience. One of her newer blog posts was titled What if you could control your fate?. Her blog is rather small but many people have seen this post. Thousands of people. She’s talking about how a student teacher substituted for their actual teacher. He then suggested playing a game. The game I’ve just played with my roommates despite all the bad things that could happen. I’m not sure if it will work. I want Hannah and Allie to be dead.
After I found the blog post I emailed one of the guys who commented on the post. He said he could arrange the game and other players. He told me he’s forced to play it anyway, so that his life isn’t ruined but blessed (his words, not mine). He told me he doesn’t have a choice. I agreed to meet him in New York City a few days before I came to Hawkins Valley. There were four others. He wasn’t sure how many people need to play but he was sure four was enough. I’ve never talked to them again. They didn’t want to, because it seemed like we’re doing something illegal. We all knew we had to recruit people so we could play the gam
e again, so we wouldn’t die or get hurt.
I didn’t want these girls to get involved. Tana and Layla. They don’t deserve this. I will instruct them to play again. I have to, so they’re safe. But I feel relieved that I might get rid of Hannah and Allie. Might. Because I don’t know if any of this is true. Maybe it’s a scam. Maybe they’re all lying. Charlie and the guy who commented on her post.
Ever since I played this game for the first time I have nightmares. Not because I’m afraid to die or get hurt but because I have to think of the story the guy told us about me. According to this story I will find out about something I’ve been wanting to know for years. If it wasn’t for Hannah and Allison I would play this game in order to find out this one thing.
The one thing that’s killing me inside.
***
We saw the flames and the smoke from our boat, but we were too busy trying to find Allison. Scott swam inside the water but every few seconds his head appeared, and he told us she isn’t there and he can’t see her. He panicked. One of the other guys was swimming towards the shore, so he can call for help. Even though it’s a sunny afternoon there were only a few people at the lake. Most of those who were there saw us waving but they thought we wanted to say hi. They didn’t understand we were trying to tell them someone’s drowning.
I wanted Allison to die. And I’m not stupid. I knew that the smoke above the cabins and Allie’s body that didn’t show up again meant that the stories I told became real. I knew the game did what it was supposed to do. What I asked it to do. I should clarify that these stories aren’t mine.
Even if I wanted to invent my own the game wouldn’t let me. What no one tells you is that as soon as the player (or rather the victim) lays down in the middle and everybody closes their eyes, you start having visions. I could literally see the flames, see Allie underwater, see Layla and Mia. I could tell them what she looks like in every detail. And my voice just started describing and spreading Amaris’ word. Amaris, the girl who started the game. The guy I met online didn’t tell me much. He actually didn’t know much about her, only that she used to be a young girl that had a wish. The game made it possible for it to come true.
I saw Allie’s wet and blue corpse and Hannah’s carbonized dead body. I felt glad and guilty, sad and sinful at the same time. I did it. I killed the two demons that have been hunting me for such a long time. Still, I knew they would tell the police that I did this. That I am a murderer. Am I? Not directly, but indirectly.
They did tell them it was because of me. The deaths of these girls ripped us apart. We couldn’t speak or look into each other’s eyes. Obviously no one arrested me. The police asked me about Allie because I was there when it happened, but the other guys told them I hadn’t touched her. They couldn’t determine the cause of the fire. And I’m certain they never will. When Allie disappeared in the water it looked like she was pulled down. Actively pulled down. As if Loch Ness was involved.
I’m packing my suitcase, just like Tana and Layla. No one says a word and I’m too afraid to speak but I need to make sure they’re safe. These two girls don’t deserve to die.
“You should know that you need to play the game,” I say.
“What?”, Layla says aggressively. She’s been in a bad mood ever since the accidents.
I repeat the sentence. “Please,” I add, “bad things happen to those who don’t play the game. Only when you play …”
“Shut up,” Tana interrupts me. “You’ve caused enough damage.”
She gives me that shut-up-or-else-I’ll-kill-you look, so I don’t dare to say another word. I can’t convince them. Nothing I say matters because everything sounds ridiculous. I would be in a mental hospital now if I told the police what I know. I can’t tell anyone about this game.
I can just hope that the game gives me the answers I’m looking for.
chapter 29
ASPEN
Today
Every time I visit Finna – every time we visit Finna – I want to give back her legs. I can hold her hand, I can hug her and tell her that we’re there for here, but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. I want to do more. Finna’s doing okay. Okay, not good. Not at all. She’s still sad and she’s crying a lot. She’s tried telling her parents that she knew this would happen, but they thought she’s out of her mind. She begged us to be careful. Finna asked us not to play the game though.
“Don’t burden other people,” she said. “Innocent people.”
“How about criminals?,” Sage said.
“And then they play it and escape,” Finna answered.
Finna, like most of us, is still angry at Tansy for causing this pain. It didn’t just hurt her, but it hurt her parents. Her father can’t get over her injuries. He doesn’t want a daughter who can’t walk. Finna admitted that she currently can’t read normal books or movies or TV shows with people who can walk. She can’t open Instagram without seeing loads of people with legs. The only thing she was could bear was watching the 1989 movie The Little Mermaid. But only until she trades her voice for a pair of human legs.
“I couldn’t look at anything real and human, so an animated film seemed my only option to keep myself busy,” she told us.
After we’ve finally managed to visit her at the hospital again, Sofia, Sage and I go to the library. Cris didn’t come to hospital but Finna told us she’s been there several times. Seneca’s library is the best place to do research. Besides Charlie’s blog and Layla’s YouTube video we haven’t found out anything else. Sofia had several breakdowns. Sometimes she pretends to be fine but then she tells me she’s afraid. Afraid of what might happen to her and her parents. Afraid of what might happen to me. I’m afraid, too.
“That’s why we’re trying to find a cure,” I keep telling her.
We sit at a table between the window and the rows of bookshelves. A few feet away there’s a lounge with light blue armchairs and sofas. I used to sit there with Remi after school to finish our homework, read a book or discuss various topics in history. Remi was obsessed with history, his favorite subject. He pretended to hate school, but he was interested in many things – Jamestown, the Iroquois tribes, the Mayflower.
Sage is good at everything, from math to Spanish. She’s good with numbers, she’s good at languages, music and arts. She’s athletic and she knows how to sing and dance. Her sense of rhythm and flexibility can compete with professional dancers.
“Maybe we should try to find out who Amaris is,” Sage says. “Two years ago I did a presentation on the Salem witch trials and …”
“You’re not suggesting this is witchcraft,” Sofia says and wrinkles her nose.
“Actually, I am,” says Sage. “Are there any more credible suggestions from your side?”
“No,” Sofia says and shakes her head. “I guess not. I don’t have any suggestions.”
I stare at my laptop while those two are arguing. I google Amaris but then only website pop up about the name’s meaning, origin and popularity. It’s a female name. Hebrew. Its meaning is “promised by god”.
“It’s a female name,” I say. “Other than that there isn’t much to discover.”
“Try googling Amaris game,” Sage instructs as both of them turn their head and look at me.
There are less results but they’re more expedient. Eight million results have decreased to two million. One of the first results is Charlie’s blog post and the comments that relate to Amaris.
UNKNOWN
Say this before playing the game:
Amaris, queen of blood and death.
Wherever you are,
be my guest
and grant me a wish
or drag me to the abyss.
The game is my prison
and I play to be freed.
Have fun, xoxo
I read the comment over and over again. Unknown. I bet he or she knows something. Maybe it’s just another player who remembered those words and wrote them down. Someone who knows the game ruins lives but
doesn’t care. Maybe someone who wants others to play, so more people have to suffer like him or her. I will never find out. Unknown means the person doesn’t want to be contacted, wants to stay anonymous.
“What is it?,” Sofia asks. She looks concerned, like a frightened deer that’s about to get hit by a car.
“Nothing,” I say. “Absolutely nothing. As if the internet knows the origin of a game that kills people. We won’t find out shit.” I put the laptop a bit too roughly onto the table. I’m sure it has a crack on the bottom now.
“Let’s summarize what we know,” Sofia says. “Due to the game something horrible is going to happen to us unless we play again with others. That’s what we know so far. The game master or whatever you wanna call it talks to some ghost or witch or spirit named Amaris.”
“Can I continue talking about the presentation I did on the Salem witch trials?,” Sage says without looking at us and without waiting for an answer. “The people believed that witches were able to harm their fellow humans because they swore loyalty to the devil. I’ve done some research on my own and I some people in a forum believe that Amaris is a girl that had a pact with the devil.”
“I have to stop you right there,” I say. “How does that help us?”
Even if it’s true and people can enter a pact with the devil it doesn’t help us survive. Does she imply that we entered a pact with the devil by playing the game with Tansy?
“We could find a way out,” says Sofia.
The game is like a virus. It spreads because it forces people to infect others. It’s a sustainable but deadly and vicious strategy. We will come to the point where playing the game again is the only option left. Not every game has Easter eggs or cheat codes. Maybe there is no way out. If the game is based on pact between a girl and Satan there is no cure for what we’re facing.