Playing His Own Games | ✔︎

chapter thirty-one | the survivor

Minor sexual scene in this chapter.
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"Hold me like the night sky holds the moon."
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Carrie

MY PARENTS STAND IN the shadowy corner of the kitchen, heads together and voices urgent but hushed.

"...he appeared sincere," my mother is saying doubtfully, her eyes lowered down to her clasped hands resting on her stomach.

"Those bruises on his torso, though..." my father says, scratching the underside of his chin. "He said he got into a fight but he hasn't even been at school or out. Every time I've looked into the driveway his car has been there."

"Maybe he got suspended?" my mum suggests, frowning.

"It's been two weeks," my dad points out, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sick?"

My father shakes his head slowly. "No, I don't think so. You saw Viktor's face, Martha, he was incensed over something so small."

"You believe it was Viktor, then?" I can hear the fear surfacing in my mothers voice.

"I can't be sure," my dad says quietly, fidgeting anxiously, "however it is certainly a possibility."

"Well, what do we do?" my mum asks fearfully. "Call the police? The boy is seventeen, going on eighteen, he could be out of the house soon. He's almost an adult."

"We'll give it a month and see if we notice any more signs," my father replies, his voice steady and certain. "If the outcome is that he is being ill-treated, we go to the police."

"William, do you think Carrie knows? She was awfully reluctant to telling Viktor about their relationship."

He drags his fingers through his thinning hair and shakes his head as though clearing cobwebs out from his brain. "It is likely. We cannot make any assumptions until we are certain, though."

Their conversation slowly returns back to neutral topics, so I retreat back into the sanctuary of my bedroom. My heart hammers uncontrollably in my chest as I cross the room and peer out my window.

Yellow lights glare down at the side fence separating the two houses. Only two rooms are lit up and that fills me with unease.

Something bad has happened; I can feel it.

I need to warn Mason my parents are sniffing out the trail. I need to hold him in my arms and assure him that he can trust me, that I'm here to help him. I just need him.

My previous anger at him has run dry, a crushing anxiety filling it's place. Just as I'm removing my phone from my pocket to check if my boyfriend has responded, the ringtone erupts through the speakers.

Jared's number appears on the screen.

Fingers shaking and breath trembling, I immediately accept. "Hello?"

"Carrie, thank God." He seems out of breath and stressed. I can hear movement and muffled sound in the background, but none of it is loud enough for me to distinguish.