Game

The forest stretches out endlessly, the trees standing tall and imposing.

I follow the map, its numbers and lines guiding me through the forest. The air is cool against my skin as I move with purpose, my footsteps soft against the earthy ground.

The map leads me deeper into the heart of the forest. I squint at the map, trying to decipher its cryptic instructions. The trees seem to close in around me, their branches interlocking like a maze.

As I navigate through the darkness, a clearing emerges before me. Moonlight spills through the gaps in the canopy, casting a silvery glow on the forest floor. The map directs me to a specific spot, and I feel a sense of anticipation.

I reach the designated location, and my eyes scan the surroundings. The numbers on the map point upward, towards a tall tree that towers above the others. I crane my neck, trying to see what the map is leading me to.

And there, high up in the branches, I spot it – a shack.

The tree stands like a sentinel, its trunk sturdy and unwavering. I wonder how I’ll reach the top, but the map insists this is where I need to be. The forest, once at place of mystery, now feels like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

I take a deep breath and begin to climb.

The bark is rough against my palms, but determination fuels my ascent. Each branch becomes a foothold, and I pull myself upward, higher and higher. The night. air grows cooler as I climb, the moon watching over me like a silent guardian.

The shack comes into view, nestled among the leaves and vines that act as nature’s camouflage. It’s decent–sized, blending seamlessly with the foliage. Tall leaves and long vines drape over it, concealing it from prying eyes.

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Game

Game

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The forest stretches out endlessly, the trees standing tall and imposing.

I follow the map, its numbers and lines guiding me through the forest. The air is cool against my skin as I move with purpose, my footsteps soft against the earthy ground.

The map leads me deeper into the heart of the forest. I squint at the map, trying to decipher its cryptic instructions. The trees seem to close in around me, their branches interlocking like a maze.

As I navigate through the darkness, a clearing emerges before me. Moonlight spills through the gaps in the canopy, casting a silvery glow on the forest floor. The map directs me to a specific spot, and I feel a sense of anticipation.

I reach the designated location, and my eyes scan the surroundings. The numbers on the map point upward, towards a tall tree that towers above the others. I crane my neck, trying to see what the map is leading me to.

And there, high up in the branches, I spot it – a shack.

The tree stands like a sentinel, its trunk sturdy and unwavering. I wonder how I’ll reach the top, but the map insists this is where I need to be. The forest, once at place of mystery, now feels like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

I take a deep breath and begin to climb.

The bark is rough against my palms, but determination fuels my ascent. Each branch becomes a foothold, and I pull myself upward, higher and higher. The night air grows cooler as I climb, the moon watching over me like a silent guardian.

The shack comes into view, nestled among the leaves and vines that act as nature’s camouflage. It’s decent–sized, blending seamlessly with the foliage. Tall leaves and long vines drape over it, concealing it from prying eyes.

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Game:

If not for the map, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it.

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the branches beneath me thin out, and I find myself standing on a sturdy platform of intertwined limbs. The shack

senses on high

hesitate for a moment, my hand hovering over the doorknob. The night is silent around me, and a sense of anticipation hangs in the

when I thought I could outsmart the game, evade the chaos of the Mating Run. If only Victor

confusion. I had found a secluded nook, a spot where the trees formed a natural barrier. It felt like a

his twisted sense of control,

everything’s a fucking

he hadn’t ruined shit for

hidden, tucked away in that quiet corner

mated right now, entwined with someone in the name of some

ancient tradition?

would things have

been spared the confusion, the chaos, the

that uncertainty gnaws at

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Game

the

bitter taste in my mouth, a reminder that Victor took something from me night. He took away my right to choose, to decide my own fate in this twisted game he orchestrated. The air

the alternate paths my life could have

frustration intensifies, a knot tightening in my chest. I hate that I don’t know. I hate that Victor, in his arrogance, decided to play puppet master with our lives. I close my eyes again, trying to shut out the haunting

cautiously, the wooden door creaking as I push it open. The shack, unlike Ettie’s cabin, is different. It’s smaller, cozier,

air–conditioning.

swings open, I catch sight of

on a beanbag, lazily flipping through a magazine. The shack seems to swallow me as my eyes widen in shock. He’s laughing at some joke, the

frozen, my irritation bubbling beneath

glances up, his eyes

that doesn’t sit well with me. The magazine drops to the floor, forgotten in the face

drop by,” he says, exhaling a plume of

head, frustration simmering within me. I can’t even speak. My mouth opens but nothing comes out, my

Victor’s shack, my jaw clenched tight. The frustration, the anger they churn within me like a storm. The contrast

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little haven is too much to bear,

the intensity

a cushy chair, a smug grin on his face. The shack, a mockery of our struggles, feels suffocating. I glance around, trying to take in the audacity of it all. It’s not just comfort; it’s excess. The incap amount of food, the electricity, the television–it’s as if he’s on a lavish vacation while we fight

as I see the bounty of food neatly organized on a shelf. Cans, fresh produce – things I haven’t seen in what feels like an eternity. The anger

a buffet.

at me with an expectant smile. “Impressive, right? I guess my father must have told some of the restaurant owners outside that

than happy

unleash the frustration that’s been building within

free to make yourself at home, Alina.”

shoot him a look, a silent plea for him to stop treating everything like a joke. But he’s too wrapped up in his amusement, too blind to see the storm that

within me.

gesturing towards the electricity that powers the shack. “Oh! And look at

bored almost immediately without any tv. He couldn’t give me a phone but I guess

of it all amplifying my frustration. I glance at the television – al luxury I hadn’t even dared to dream about in the forest. Victor seems to revel in

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Sat. 9 Mar

Game

you’ve seen a ghost, Alina. Relax. It’s

to shatter the illusion of comfort that Victor has created. But force myself to keep it

a fully stocked pantry. I made

think. about the meager rations we scrounged for in the forest, the hunger that gnawed at

arrogance.

flourish. He flips throught channels on the

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