Page 7 of Bleeding Hearts (Pine Valley College #3)

CHAPTER FIVE

I t seems Alice finally moved on and took my advice. I close my phone, effectively turning off the pictures shared across socials. She’s in the background of one, pressed up against some guy, both looking intently at each other. It shouldn’t piss me off, but it does.

She isn’t mine. I made that choice, but I’m pissed.

Leaving my phone on my chest, I stare up at my ceiling. I haven’t been to class in over a week. What’s the point? Unless I win this money, I won’t be here soon. I feel like I’m in limbo, waiting for the axe to drop. I can’t move forward, and I can’t move back.

Grabbing the warm beer, I drain the last of it, crunch the can, and toss it with the others. I started drinking on day four and haven’t stopped since. That’s one way of fighting off a hangover—just stay drunk. I have nothing left to lose anyway.

Evan has called and texted many times, but I just ignore him, especially after seeing him all happy with Skylar and Bones. How quickly he replaced our friend group and moved on. It’s a bitter, cruel thought, but it’s true.

They are living their lives, and I’m stuck here, rotting in self-hatred and grief.

I’m fucking drowning, and nobody knows.

I’m isolating myself, but I can’t seem to stop. Who would want to deal with me? It would hurt Evan and make his grief even worse. It would also ruin their newfound happiness.

I’m just a burden, that’s all.

No one would understand. How could they? I don’t understand my own feelings or why I’m lashing out.

It’s better to be alone. I can’t hurt anyone else this way.

I sit up to grab another can, and my phone slides to the bed. I leave it there as I search for an unopened beer in the litter of crushed cans on my floor, but they are all empty. I curse myself for not getting more.

I can’t even drink myself into a coma properly.

Vibrations fill the bed, and I jerk up as I grab my phone, peering at the screen in confusion. It shows an unknown number, which isn’t normal for me. I debate not answering and just googling the number to see who it is like I normally do, because who the fuck calls people these days?

Plus, nothing good ever comes from answering a phone.

Call it boredom or intrigue, but I hit answer.

“Hello?” I expect it to be Evan fucking with me or even Alice trying to talk to me, but a mechanical voice responds.

“You have received a message. You have one minute to check it before it will be deleted, and your entry will be disqualified.” Whoever it is hangs up.

My heart pounds in my chest. There is only one thing this could be.

I fumble with my phone, opening my messages with clumsy fingers, finding one from an unknown number at the top. I open it and click on the video that’s attached.

The screen glitches, and then the Risk logo comes up, asking, “Are you ready to risk it?” surrounded by bubbles.

When it stops, my phone goes black, even though I did nothing, and then the green Risk logo appears at the top before more text is typed below.

Are you ready to risk it all?

A box appears that reads “Yes,” and for a moment, I hesitate. I know what this means—I’m agreeing to participate. It’s stupid, but I have no other option.

I sign up.

My phone goes black again, and I wait, but nothing else comes through, and I blow a breath through my teeth.

“That’s it?” I mutter. “How the fuck do I know where to go or what’s happening?

You couldn’t send a fucking email with an itinerary?

No, you have to do this creepy serial killer shit.

Well, joke’s on you. I survived a serial killer before—wait, what if this is the sequel?

Shit, the main girls always die in the sequel,” I blabber and then start to laugh.

I’m not bored now, but it looks like it’s time to fight for my future and place here.

I wonder what Risk will entail?

I took a shower, and I even washed my hair, which any girl knows is a fucking task, especially pink hair.

I didn’t bother brushing it, though, because that took too much energy, but I applied some makeup to make me look normal and then dressed just in case.

I need to be ready for when it starts, which means no more lying around, feeling sorry for myself.

My fishnets catch on my desk as I pace, my plaid skirt barely brushing my thighs. I glance back at my phone again. That can’t be all there is to it.

A noise in the hallway has me striding over in my thigh-high boots and ripping the door open. People are hurrying around, far too many for this time of night. “What’s happening?” I ask.

“Risk . . .” The girl looks around nervously. “The first game is tonight.” She hurries away.

“Where?” I call, but there’s no response.

Fuck.

Grabbing my phone, I think about what they sent. There has to be a hint, a clue. Maybe the first test is to figure out the location. That has to be it.

There were bubbles at the end. It didn’t fit the rest of the video.

What could it mean?

Gnawing on my lip, I begin to pace again.

Bubbles . . . Water. There’s a swimming pool at the school, but that shit will be locked down with heightened security after the attacks.

There are private pools, but again, that would be risky.

No, they clearly want to remain anonymous and need to fit a lot of people if the crowd is anything to go by.

There’s only one other place I can think of—the abandoned beach on the south side of town. It’s chained off because of the epic riptides that killed four people last year alone.

It has to be there.

I take a taxi, but the roads to the beach are all blocked off by cars or fences, so I’m dropped two miles away and have to wade through the tall grass, but when I crest the final hill, I find the usually locked gate to what used to be called Crystal Beach open.

People cover the sand near the water, the moon glinting off the surface. A red flag is propped up, the warning sign for the tides, spray-painted with a smiley face and the Risk logo.

Well, I guess I was right.

I walk down to the sand, sliding and almost slipping, but I right myself and head through the gate to the throng of people.

I recognize some of them. Most are students at Pine Valley. I wonder what the host is getting out of this, but I don’t really have the time or audacity to question it. I need the money. There’s a possibility it is a trick, but I’m at rock bottom, so I don’t have much choice.

I’m in this mess because of my reckless, antisocial behavior. It’s almost fitting that being irresponsible will get me out of it . . . or get me killed.

Either way, this will end.

“So, what do you think we have to do?” I hear people asking, talking loudly.

Some are drinking, and others have even pulled up in trucks, lying in the backs and observing like it’s a sport.

I guess it is for those who aren’t competing.

It seems like there’s an even mix between those taking part and those just here to watch.

The anticipation in the air makes my adrenaline pump as I weave through the crowd, looking for any sign of what we need to do next.

I walk closer to the water to escape the building crowd, my boots getting wet.

I’ve heard horror stories about how strong the riptides are here.

There used to be a dare for first years to see how far out they could go before the school found out and locked up the beach.

It’s been empty and abandoned for years.

Turning back, I move through the crowd once more, seeking answers, but then at exactly nine, a gun goes off, startling everyone. I duck reflexively before standing and scanning the area, but no one seems to know where it came from. It did the trick though.

The beach is silent.

Light suddenly floods the crowd, and we turn to the hills and shore to see the big, stadium-sized lighting. At each base is a speaker, and that mechanical voice comes from within.

“Welcome, players, to Risk.” There’s a moment of silence as the crowd shifts nervously.

It’s all becoming very real. “Tonight will be the first game. There will be ten in total, and the one who has the most points or is left standing at the end will win the grand prize. Points are determined by your rank at the end of each game. The winner will receive four, second place will get three, and third place will earn two, while the rest will get one. If you fail to finish a game, you are disqualified. Your phones will now become a beacon so we can track you. If anyone tries to involve the police, we will publish all your private information. Every sin will be exposed, so it is in your best interest to keep quiet.” A glitch sounds.

“Do not test us. If you want to win, you must risk everything. and that begins here. Tonight, we have hidden three objects in boxes somewhere in the water. You must find them and return them to the beach. The first to do this wins. Beware of the waves, for they will try to consume you. Players, are you willing to risk your lives?” The speaker becomes silent, and the lights cut out as I turn to the water.

Fuck me. They didn’t start with something easy, did they?

“What the fuck is this shit?” some meathead at my side snarls to his friend. “This is stupid. Who is going to do that? I thought it was going to be some board games or some shit.”

“I mean, it’s literally in the fucking name, dumbass.

You must risk,” I retort. “If I wanted to kill myself, I could just grow as big as your ego and then jump back down to your IQ level because you’re dumb as shit.

” Shaking my head, I turn away. “Fuck, if these are the type of people I’m against, they might as well just give me the money now. ”

A gunshot sounds again, and I know what it means.

It’s time to play.