Note: this chapter contains some strong language; as well as strong depictions of mental health issues, death and loss.

———

"Rise and shine, Players 025 and 077! Today is your final day in the games!"

The tannoy deafeningly blares through the main function room, waking the men up with a start. They remember the conversations they had the night before; and the reason why they slept in the main function room rather than their beds.

"The last day," Michael breathes, sending his heart into mild palpitations. "I can't believe it."

"What's the date, Michael?" George questions, still trying to zone into the real world after sleeping through the night.

"If I'm not mistaken ... it's June 25th today."

"It's my 26th birthday," George comments, as if it's no big deal. "Happy birthday to me, I guess. Could be dead by the end of it."

"You never mentioned that it was your birthday, George." Michael frowns at him, feeling sad at how awful this birthday will be for him. "I-I mean I would normally say happy birthday, but ... uh ... " He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, unsure on what to say. "Well, I guess it could end happier for you. Provided you win the games." To think of death makes him feel sick, but he wishes to keep George's spirits up just a little.

"I guess we find out today." George heaves an anxiety-filled sigh, his hand brushing over his oily mop of hair — it hasn't been washed in days by now; but of course, there's bigger priorities.

The pair get up from their cosy resting space, to get ready for their final day.

*

"Players ... please follow the team member to your final game."

Michael and George stand at the centre of the main function room; they've been asked to change back into their tuxedos from the banquet — so that whoever wins looks well-presented. As the team member escorts them out of the room, the pair follow behind slowly. Michael feels something touch upon his palm — he looks down to see George's hand, so the pair interlock their fingers so that they can stick together, even to the end.

"Good luck, George," Michael whispers nervously.

George responds at the same volume, as not to take away from the quiet atmosphere. "Good luck Michael. Love you mate."

He exhales a shaky breath. "I love you too, Yog."

George smiles to himself, with tears in his eyes from the nickname Michael just gave him. The masked team member eventually arrives at a door, opening it to reveal what is perhaps the smallest room they've seen in the games so far. The room is colourful; with party banners and streamers and balloons. The walls are painted to give the appearance of kids at a party; they have little hats on, and there's a little boy in the centre of the mural holding gifts. This room is the most party-style room either player has seen so far. In the middle of the room is a small circular table; it has a tall, cuboid-shaped box sat on top of it measuring around a metre high. Two chairs perch either side of the table.

"Players, please take a seat."

Michael and George sit at the table together, exchanging looks at one another, of confusion. Their eyes move to the box in the centre of the table.

"Welcome to the final game. This is Jenga. I will now give the instructions. Players must take it in turns to remove a single block from the tower. You cannot take a block from the top three rows. Whoever causes the tower to topple over will be eliminated. The other player will win the party games and walk away with the prize of $7 million to do with as they please — as well as their freedom. To decide who goes first, the team member will flip a coin. Player 025 will select heads or tails. If Player 025 is correct, they can choose whether to go first, or let Player 077 go first."

The team member brings out the coin, flicking it in their hand. They catch it on the back of their hand, before the masked face turns to George.

"Player 025 — heads or tails?"

"Tails," he answers.

The team member reveals the coin — it's flipped with tails facing upwards.

"Player 025 — would you like to go first, or let Player 077 go first?"

"Michael can go first."

Michael looks to George, slightly surprised that he would let him go first. Logically, it would make sense to go first so that he could get a feel for how the blocks move — and it's less likely to topple the tower so early into it.

"Player 077, please remove your first block."

Michael takes a deep breath, in an attempt to calm his nerves, before his hand moves towards the tower. He naturally goes for the fourth row down; seeing as though the top three rows are out of bounds in the game. He selects the middle block from the row; using his finger to gently poke at it to bring it out of the tower from one side. He successfully manages to retrieve it, so he exhales the breath he has been holding in since his turn began.

George acknowledges Michael's slight advantage, choosing to go for the next row down in the tower. He too selects the middle block, using Michael's technique of poking it from one side. He slides the block out smoothly, feeling brief relief.

Michael's turn once again. He alters his technique for the next go; he selects a block from the edge of the tower to change things up a little. He slowly pulls the block from the tower, his teeth gritting in nerves. Once he's fully retrieved it, his face relaxes.

"Gosh," George whispers, choosing the middle block from the row below. The strategy seems to work in his favour, so he decides to stick with it.

"Don't talk. It'll distract," Michael murmurs to him in response. He goes once again for the side block rather than the middle; upon pulling it out, he looks to George to see his reaction — although his face doesn't give much away.

"Hey Yog. Happy birthday." Andrew's voice rings in his head. "We figured out a way to see you again permanently."

"We did indeed," Elton's voice chimes in. "It's going to work, just so long as you listen to us carefully and do as we say."

George tries to ignore the voices in his head, as he removes the middle block from the row beneath Michael's previous turn. He clasps his hands together, into a shaky praying position, as he tries to watch Michael make his move. However, he is too distracted.

"Listen mate, all you have to do is knock that tower over. It's that simple." Once again, Andrew's voice echoes loud and intrusively.

"But I'll lose the game if I do that," George whispers to himself, earning a strange look from Michael.

"George, are you alright?" Michael interrogates. "Who are you talking to?"

"Nothing. Nobody." He shakes his head, before taking the next block out from the tower in a swift, clean move.

"Ah come on, sweet. We miss you so much," Elton tells him.

George closes his eyes while Michael takes his next go. Tears are evident when he opens them again to remove the next block from the middle. As he closes his eyes again, the tears fall down his cheeks.

"Don't do this," he begs to the voices. "You wanted me to keep going for you."

Michael watches George interact with nobody — and he realises what's going on. He must be hearing Andrew and Elton in his head, so he's responding out loud.

"Uh, George?" Michael calls softly. "It's your turn."

George nods, once again taking the middle piece from the tower. "Your turn."

As Michael makes his move, George notices two figures stood behind his opponent. When he squints, he realises who they are — Andrew and Elton.

"Come on George," Andrew teases. "Enough's enough now. Come back with us."

At the sight of his best friend and his lover, George's eyes widen, welling up excessively as if he's having an epiphany. He starts to smile uncontrollably, seeing his favourite people gesturing with their hands for him to go to them.

"Just knock it down," Elton instructs calmly. "And we'll all be together. Forever."

"George?"

Even Michael's voice doesn't rid his state of euphoria; George's hazed vision lands on his opponent, but the large grin doesn't leave his face. Each breath George takes gradually starts to sound more like soft laughter. For the first time, he feels like his life is his own, to choose how it goes.

"Thank you," George whispers to Michael, in a possessed-like state, before his hand carelessly grabs any block from the tower just to do what he's been instructed.

The tower wobbles, before crashing down layer by layer. Michael's eyes widen in shock at the realisation of what George has done. "George! Oh my god, George!"

"I'm going to see them again!" George cries happily, with no fear or sadness. "I'm going to see my boys again, like they wanted me to!"

"George, you just lost the game!" Michael shouts in a panic. "You lost the fucking game!"

"And it's okay," George assures him. "It's always been okay."

Michael watches with jittery eyes as the masked team member slowly approaches the table.

"Player 077 — pass."

"Goodbye, Michael. Thanks for playing with me," George smiles, still not fully aware of the fatality he has caused himself. "I'll tell you all about it when I get to see you again."

"Goodbye, Yog." Michael's saddened by George's sudden naivety, but knows there's nothing he can do about it. "See you on the other side, one day."

The team member holds the gun up, pointing it at George's head. Happy tears stream down George's face as he smiles one final time at Michael. The gun is fired; the face that was once full of happiness and life, quickly becomes the face of the final victim of the games. George's body leans back in his seat, before his limbs give way and he collapses to the floor. He lands on his front; his hair flops over his face, covering his glazed-over eyes and tear-stained cheeks. The blood from his hair drenches the back of his neck, dripping down onto his crisp white tuxedo shirt. The same haunting smile lingers on his lips, even in death.

"Player 025 — eliminated."

Michael's lip quivers erratically, at the sight of George. The saddest part about it all, to him, is that George was the happiest player in the game until the fourth game. He cracked jokes and made silly comments; he smiled and loved and laughed more than any other player. He was never the same since Andrew died, and in turn Elton — and this shift in his persona is what caused his demise. His eyes fill quickly with tears, spilling shamelessly over his lashes. For a few moments he is frozen in his chair; eventually he regains the ability to move, so he falls to his knees beside his friend, sliding the hair from his face. After a couple of attempts resulting from misplacement of his fingers, he manages to close George's eyes to offer him some final form of dignity. He pulls Player 025 up into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"Have a nice time with Andrew and Elton for your birthday, now," he tells his deceased buddy. This is when everything hits him at once — the games are over; he's made it out alive; he's richer than he ever dreamed; and some of the closest friends he's ever made have all paid the price for this now seemingly-pointless victory.

"Congratulations, Player 077. You have won the party games."

Such an announcement gives Michael absolutely no joy whatsoever; the trauma he has faced in the last week will scar him for the rest of his life. He stays on his knees, cradling George in his arms; rocking his teammate backwards and forwards as he sobs loudly for everything he has lost. Nothing in the world can quite describe the feeling in his soul after the ordeal he has gone through — the ordeal that the other ninety-nine players had to go through. His heart hurts immensely for all the friends he made in his group — but he acknowledges that those players were only a small fraction of how many gave their lives for Michael's to go on. It is all too overwhelming for him.

Still holding George, Michael's upper body doubles over in grief, as he cries into the tuxedo jacket of his fallen friend.

~~

Who was expecting it to go that way? What will happen next?