When Shock Happened

Day: 18

"He says it's going to happen soon." I say. "The Game."

Harry shakes his head. "It's not."

It was daggers today. I think the dagger is what I'm best at, and Harry thinks so too. We've been practicing with it quite a bit compared to the other weapons. Harry hasn't even let me glance at the club and the spear yet; the heavy items being completely off limits to me.

"How would you know?" I ask, following him back to camp.

He shrugs, unsure. I guess no one really knows anything for certain here. Guesses and estimates are nothing compared to facts. Arguing with Harry is not something I ever want to do, so I just drop it.

"How has Devin been holding up on his own?" He asks.

I shrug my shoulders. The past few days Devin has just been glaring at me out of the corner of his eyes. As if I could care more or less; Devin is nothing but a screw-up. He can keep doing laundry for ever. I am getting out of here, and I am doing it sooner rather than later.

"As if you or I care more or less either way." I laugh.

He looks at me funny but continues walking. "He's still a person."

"He attacked me."

"You attacked Johnny."

"Johnny deserved it."

"Did he?"

Did he?

That's not a question I feel like asking myself today. Or ever, for that matter. I tend to act first and ask questions later, but now, I'd rather just never find the answers. Hard truths are just that, hard.

"Okay Mom." I tell him.

He rolls his eyes. "I'm just saying, try to put things in perspective. Devin is, after all, just a boy like you."

"He is a century older than me." I argue. "I'm not outright attacking or belittling him. I'm not Kiki."

He rolls his eyes. "Not yet."

Before I can argue a painful screech irrupts from in front of us. We look between each other and take off towards the camp. Harry trips and falls.

"Keep running!" He yells.

I hadn't stopped.

Should I have?

I get to the camp and see a few boys in front of me. Keaton is one of them. He spits blood out on the ground, making sure to avoid it from getting on his clothes. I almost want to thank him; even if his actions are vain they are saving my precious time. Blood is a pain to scrub out.

Across from Keaton is Marcus, with blood trailing down his forehead and dripping on to his grey shirt. He's wearing dark green cargo pants that are ripped with blood seeping through. I am definitely going to have to wash those. As if I needed more reason to dislike Marcus.

Marcus tackles a third boy, who is much taller and broader than he is. Despite all odds, Marcus manages to bring the boy to the ground.

The third boy is Johnny.

I rush in, sending Marcus backwards off of Johnny, pulling my dagger out from my pocket.

"Who do you think you are?" I spit, kicking Marcus in the stomach. "And what do you think you are doing?"

"Relax," I hear Keaton from behind me. His voice is like liquid silver, and I don't know how or why, but it makes me feel like I'm in some sort of trance. As if none of this is real, or even a big deal. It makes me want to believe him.

The words may be soft, but the intentions malicious.

"Marcus was just defending me against this thief." Keaton continues to speak.

"What did he steal?" My eyes don't leave his.

"The boy has been stealing firewood. Doing God knows what with it."

I feel my feet ripped out from beneath me as Marcus pulls me down on to the ground. The little Scottish boy has learned much in his short time here. I always feared he would become like this. Nothing but the puppet of the great master.

Keaton has perfect his skills in however long he's been here. Probably a hundred years. He'd be very persuasive if he existed in modern days. Probably the founder of some religious cult.

Marcus crawls on top of me, so I flip him over, like I learned to do on Harry. I can't hold him don though, he's bigger than I am.

He pulls his knife out of his pocket and dances it along my face.

I'm not scared, even if I should be.

"Now Marcus," Keaton soothes. "There is no need to be so violent."

With my free hand I grab hold of Marcus and pull him off of me. Harshly. My arms seers. I didn't think I was strong enough to do that. I guess I should stop underestimating myself.

I get up and kick him in the stomach, before I feel someone's arms around my stomach pulling me away.

Marcus spits out blood. The red colour spills on to the dirt floor, puddling. I would keep fighting him, if not for the hands around me. I know I didn't win that fight. He knows I didn't win that fight. It was a draw at best.

I'm in a tent and I turn around. Alex pulled me out of the fight.

Of course he did. Twice in what, a week? For someone who wants absolutely nothing to do with me, he can't seem to turn a blind eye. Not only is it frustrating, but I believe it's none of his business. I would've beaten Johnny up, and Marcus had it not been for his timing.

As it is, I'm only a little thankful he pulled me away from Johnny. Marcus is another story, and the rage bubbles up inside me.

"What is wrong with you?" I demand. "Do you have an obsession with trying to ruin my life?"

I reach for his face but he grabs hold of my wrists, pinning me tight. "Why did you step in? That's not your fight to fight."

"I wasn't about to watch Johnny get his face beaten in. Why do you care?"

"Don't mess with Kiki, he's dangerous." Alex says.

"Why do you care?" I continue.

"Johnny had it coming." He says. "It's a lesson. To him and his friends to stop fighting. All it's doing is putting him in danger."

"What are you talking about?" I ask. "Him as his friends? What about Marcus he was fighting too?"

"You are so daft." He says it like it's final.

Was he not talking about fighting physically?

"Are you talking about the consp-"

"Don't say it," he grits his teeth. "He'll hear you."

"Kiki is not some-"

"Not. Kiki." He punctuates.

I look at him, he means Pan.

I never thought about how he could hear everything we say. I had just assumed he listened for his name, but maybe it's harder to tune out sound than I think. If he somehow manages to hear my call through the 30 boys here, who's to say that every whisper wriggles its way to Pan?

He has eyes and ears everywhere.

"There are things you can't say, things we can't know. He'll read into it. Why do you think we are playing the Game soon? Not for fun, not as a challenge. Everything is strategic. It's a warning, a lesson. It's a shot in the dark. Don't jump towards the bullet." He lets go of me and walks out.

I can't figure out if Alex hates me, or if he's trying to help me. He's always criticizing, always on my case. But all he has ever done is keep me safe.

Except for when I first met him, and he tried to leave me to die. Or that time he told me to stay away from Harry, who seems to be more of a pawn than a boy to him. I wonder if we are all simply shadows of people to Alex. Hollow shells of greed, and idiocy, and villainy.

Johnny stumbles in, blood trailing down his face.

"Are you-" he begins before tumbling down on to the ground.

I run over to him. His eyes are shut, and it's impossible to tell if he's shielding them from the steady flow of blood, or if he has passed out. Red cheeks begin to fade into one's of a softer white.

"Johnny!" I shake his arm.

Am I supposed to do that with possible concussion victims?

"Are you..." he begins again. "Are you okay?"

When his hand meets my arm, the feint squeeze he gives me is terrifying. Johnny does not know his strength, and the force runs off his body in waves. He may never intend to hurt someone, but he always manages to.

If his touch is this light, something is awfully wrong.

I stand up and run out of the tent. "Jared!"

It isn't Jared who answers my call though, it's Robert and James.

"He's at the falls." Robert tells me.

"Johnny is out." I explain. "He's bleeding, or has a concussion, or something. He's dizzy and out of breath, you've got to, you've got to."

My arms begin to shake. I can't breathe.

"James, I think he's going into shock. Take her into the-"

His words are lost to me in the wind. The cool air touches my face, and everything slows down before speeding up.

"I'm fine." I don't hear the words slip out of my mouth, but I know they are there.

At least I hope they are.

Robert shakes his head and he's either trying to mouth out words, or the sound falls on deaf ears. My blood is pounding. I can't breathe.

The words come out again. I'm fine. I'm actually shaking now. I'm trying to breathe.

I run back to Johnny's tent, hoping the boys follow me. They do. Robert immediately crowds over Johnny, doing something or another to him. James puts his hands on my shoulders, lowering me to the ground. I do not need his help. He drapes his cloak over me. I do not need his help. He grabs hold of me.

Johnny is still bleeding. There is blood everywhere. I don't think blood scares me, I think what blood means does. It means he's in danger. Robert looks over at me, he's trying to move Johnny. I crawl over, still shaking and help him lift Johnny. The three of us pick him up and quickly bring him over to the Medic tent.

Someone grabs hold of me from outside the tent. It's Harry. He's crying and yelling at me. There's blood on the feather in his hair. I look down, and there is blood on my cloak.

Harry takes off his cloak and drapes it over me. Why do people keep doing this? He brings me down to the ground, wiping my face with his hands, then wiping his hands on his shirt.

I must be bleeding.

I hope Johnny is alright.

I lie down on the ground, my head in Harry's lap.

 ~~~~

So I know it's short, but I'm preparing for something big.

Super big.

I have one more chapter before the big three-part finale of season 1A! It's going to be exciting. It's not so much a lot of words as it is emotionally taxing, so be ready. I'm so thrilled to share it with you!

Anyway, let me know what you think in the comments. Violent Charlie is back, and just in time for the finale. Oh, things are going to get messy. As much as she complains about blood on clothes now, wait until the end of 1A.

Keep enjoying the summer, and I'll see you Monday.