The Mating Run by Leeka
Chapter 38
Rigged
The shack falls into an eerie silence.
I don’t say a word. I don’t need to. The shack, with all its excess and comfort, seems to shrink around us. The sound of the slap echoes in the silence, a sharp punctuation to the absurdity of the situation.
Victor, rubbing his cheek, looks at me with a mix of surprise and something else. -a realization, perhaps, that his carefully crafted illusion of control has cracks.
I set the cup of coffee down, the warmth turning cold. My gaze holds his, the unspoken words lingering in the air. The forest, the challenges – they may be real, but this shack, this oasis of comfort, is a mockery.
He breaks the silence, his tone subdued.
“I guess I deserve that.”
I turn away from him.
Victor, still rubbing his cheek, watches me with a newfound seriousness.
I I take a deep breath, mustering the words to convey the frustration that simmers within me.
“Did you know why I slapped you?” I ask, my voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of irritation.
Victor, reclining on a beanbag, looks at me, with a nonchalant shrug. “Couldn’t tell you, Alina. Maybe you didn’t like the kind of coffee I offered. People can be picky about their coffee, you know.”
I narrow my eyes at him, incredulous at the absurdity of his response. “Coffee? That’s what you think this is about?”
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He smirks, as if the entire situation is a joke. “Well, you did seem a bit displeased with the coffee. Maybe next time I’ll ask for your preferred roast before offering a cup.”
I let out a sarcastic laugh, my frustration reaching a boiling point. “Victor, this isn’t about the coffee. It’s about the fact that you’re treating everything like it’s some kind of game. Like the Mating Run is a joke.”
He looks at me, still smirking. “Isn’t it, though? A game, a challenge – call it what you want. It’s all part of the grand adventure we find ourselves in.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Adventure? This isn’t an adventure, Victor. It’s a struggle for survival. People are out there, fighting for their lives, and you’re sitting here, treating it like a game.”
He stretches out on the beanbag, his indifference infuriating. “Survival, adventure it’s all a matter of perspective, Alina. You see it as a struggle; I see it as an opportunity to discover who you truly are in the face of the unknown.”
I can’t take it anymore. The frustration, the anger – they spill over, and I shove
him, the force surprising both of us. He looks at me with raised eyebrows, the smirk fading.
“Okay, that’s a bit too much-”
I glare at him, the words rushing out in a torrent. “That was for treating everything like a joke. This isn’t a game, Victor. Lives are at stake, and you’re here, lounging in your shack, acting like it’s all a grand experiment.”
He sits up, his expression changing to one of mild surprise. “Experiment? That’s an interesting way to put it. But isn’t life itself an experiment, Alina? We navigate through the unknown, facing challenges, making choices – all part of the grand experiment of existence.”
I shake my head, the frustration reaching its peak. “This isn’t philosophy class, Victor. This is reality. People are scared, hungry, and you’re here, detached from it all!”
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the absurdity of it all
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the power
Victor, my hands trembling with a mix of anger and frustration. The shack, with its excess and comfort,
everything,” I say, my voice laced with accusation.
on a beanbag, smirks, exhaling a swirl of smoke from hist cigarette. “Ruined everything? Well,
clench my fists, the weight of my words sinking in. “You turned this into a nightmare. I’m a
How is it my fault when you were the one who bashed that Hunter’s head with a
sinking in. The shack, the cigarette smoke – it’s all a mockery in the face of the choices I
my head, as if denying it could erase the truth. “But you ruined my hiding spot on the first day of this
up for failure, or
my frustration reaching a boiling point. “Don’t play games with words. You knew what would happen
his cigarette, the smoke swirling around him like a sinister halo. “Risks are part of
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the pressure is up to you.”
contain the surge of
smirks, unfazed by my outburst. “Life is the ultimate
the frustration building
think you’re so clever,
watching it dissipate in
“Maybe.”
frustration bubbling within me like a tempest ready to
the comfort –
your beloved father send you all this, or did you get it from some sponsor
resonates deeper than I thought. He
You’re giving me a headache,” he mutters,
message through a sponsor, did he? Or were all
of irritation crossing his features. “Mind your own business, Alina. It’s
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my concern? We’re in the middle of a life–and–death situation, and you act like it’s a vacation. I have every right to know where
as if trying to compose himself. The shack, with its illusion
know,” he says, exhaling the words like an unwanted confession.
my arms, not satisfied with his vague admission.
answers he refuses to
escape. I take a step back, the anger replaced by a mix of frustration and pity. The
Daddy bailed you out of this mess,” I
glint in them. “He didn’t bail me
bitterness lingering in my words. “Sure, you can handle things. That’s why we’re out here, fighting
wouldn’t understand, Alina. You’ve always been the struggling type, clawing your way through life. Some
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