Index

#Log_071 – Contest Complete: Victor Acknowledged

Rebecca sags against him, her body boneless, dead weight. Reese holds her as she falls, lowering her gently to the ground. His knees hit the floor, but he barely feels it.

She’s light, fragile. Her body doesn’t move. Her lips part slightly, but no breath follows.

He knows she’s not dead.

He knows.

Yet his heart still hammers against his ribs, his instinct screaming at him to shake her awake. To do something. Her arms feel like rubber—the rhythm of her heartbeat gone. Her skin—already too cold. Her eyes—glasslike, staring through him.

He grips the back of her neck, pressing his forehead to hers. His arms tighten around her, just for a second. It’s irrational. She’ll wake up. He knows she’ll wake up. But the sight of her empty eyes and doll-like body twists him up inside.

The arena erupts. Not in cheers, applause, whistles, or any of that. The roar of thousands of voices merges into one chaotic beast, and it’s angry. He wonders how many of them are his so-called fans. Selfish bastards. But it’s better this way, he thinks, smiling at Rebecca, still lying unconscious in his arms. It means they won’t throw a fit when they find out she’s alive.

The hosts barely let the commotion die down before their voices blast through the speakers.

“And there we have it, ladies and gentlemen—our champion! Against all odds: Contestant 13!”

Spider drones descend.

Reese doesn’t let go of Rebecca immediately. He knows he should, but his fingers refuse. He studies her face one last time, then forces himself to lay her down.

Two drones clamp onto him, dragging him to his feet. Two more take Rebecca. His heart stutters when her body lifts off the ground, her head lolling slightly. She looks too much like a corpse.

They carry her toward a door at the far end of the arena. Reese tracks every movement, burning it into his mind. That location—he’s been here long enough to know the building’s layout. That door leads two floors below the storage room. One floor below the basement. He locks it into his brain.

He doesn’t get to watch her disappear. The drones turn him around, guiding him toward the floating platform. The screens shine brightly, and suddenly his own face is everywhere. His exhausted, dirt-smeared, hollow-eyed face. The victorious champion.

He couldn’t care less.

The platform drops him on the stage, where the hosts stand waiting with their perfect smiles. They gesture for him to step forward. He does—barely. Just enough for the hosts to flinch and step back. They try to disguise it with a laugh. The female host pretends to check the back of her dress; the male host coughs. Reese ignores them both. His focus is elsewhere.

Two floors below the storage room.

The male host raises a mic. “Contestant 13, you’ve done it! The last standing contestant! You’ve fought, you’ve survived, and now you stand before us: our winner. Free! Do you have any words for your fans?”

Now that they’re close, Reese notices how stiff the male host’s crooked smile is. His eyes are too wide. His forehead is slick with sweat. The female host can’t control the tapping of her foot.

“Don’t be shy, Contestant 13,” she says. “Say something to the audience.”

Reese speaks into the mic and stares into the cameras.

“I’m so glad it’s all over.”

He tries to step away, but they keep him there. They drape a sash over his shoulders, shove a bouquet into his arms, and take thousands of photos that blind him with their flashes. They make him sign a giant check, then a contract absolving him of his crimes. The female host hugs him—tight. Too tight. She presses her breasts against his chest. The male host shakes his hand with a grip so firm it feels like a challenge.

“What do you say—we sit down for a while and have a chat with the viewers?” the female host says.

Shit. Rebecca’s waiting. He can’t waste a second.

“Sure.” He gives in. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The female host laughs. “Oh, you’re too funny.”

All three of them sit down. The crowd won’t shut their pipholes. “Liar!” they shout. “You killed her! You used her! You don’t deserve this!”

But when the male host delivers his first retort, the whole damn place goes dead silent.

“So… you killed her. For a moment, you really had us believing you were in love.”

Reese glares at him. “I was.”

“Then why did you kill her?” the female host asks.

“Because…” Reese breathes. He can’t stop picturing her being dragged by the drones, the glow in her skin gone. “She wanted me to.”

“Come on,” the female host laughs. “She wanted to die?”

“She wanted me to win.”

“She wanted you to win?” the male host asks. He turns to the audience and points his thumb at Reese.

“Yes,” he says.

“Why? I’m sorry, but you showed the entire world how dangerous you could be. Contestant 42 had her moments, but she seemed like a sensible girl. Why would she want you to win?”

“Because she believes—believed…” He clears his throat. Now he’s the one hiding his faults. Damn it. “She believed in me. Thought I could turn into someone decent.”

The whole audience goes, “Awww.”

That easy, huh?

The interrogation lasts another fifteen minutes. They ask him what he’ll do now that he’s free and has a bunch of money. If he sees any point in continuing his career as a musician, now that people “don’t appreciate him very much.” If he expects to move on and fall in love again anytime soon.

That question enrages him. “No.”

The audience doesn’t like his answer all that much.

Only then do they let him go.

The common room looks different. The chairs and armchairs are gone. In the center of the room, a single cryogenic capsule stands waiting, its door open.

The voice from the speakers guides him through the next step.

“Congratulations, Contestant 13! You’re very close to release. But first, the metallic fibers enhancing your regenerative system must be removed. Please step into the capsule and remain still during the procedure. You won’t feel a thing, and by tomorrow, you’ll be good as new.”

Reese ignores it. His attention is on the exit. He runs toward it, but spider drones block his way. His stomach twists. If only he still had Contestant 1’s phone. But he doesn’t. There’s nothing he can do about that now.

“Please, Contestant 13. Enter the capsule so we can begin the procedure.”

“Fuck,” Reese mutters, rubbing his temples. “Think.”

There’s no way out of this. He has to go through with it. But there’s no way in hell he’s leaving Rebecca waiting until morning.

He steps inside. The door seals shut. Straps wrap around his wrists. He growls as a sharp sting shoots through his arm. A needle pierces his skin, emerging from a cord connected to the capsule. Almost immediately, a heavy drowsiness pulls at him.

“No. Don’t let it—”

Reese grits his teeth and jerks his arm back, but the needle stays in place. He twists his hand next; the plastic strap burns his skin. He curls two fingers around the cord and pulls. The needle slides out of his skin before it can finish its job.

Everything spins, though.

The metallic tile beneath the capsule splits open, and it begins to descend. Once it reaches the level below, it rotates midair before settling into a horizontal position. It clicks into something on the floor, then rolls toward the door like a train on its tracks. The door opens, but the capsule doesn’t stop. It keeps moving, then turns a corner. They arrive in a large white room with blinding lights. Upstairs, it’s the training room.

The capsule stops near the left wall, sits horizontally, and its door slides open. Six claw-like mechanisms emerge from below, latch onto his clothes, and strip him bare.

Then the door closes again, and the needles reappear.

Dozens, maybe hundreds, slither out from the interior of the capsule, their thin metallic tips pointing at him like stingers. Reese barely has time to suck in a breath before they pierce him all at once, burrowing into his skin, his veins, his muscles. They siphon something from inside him.

He screams.

Not loud—inwardly. He swallows the scream, and that only increases the pain. His neck tenses so much he fears he’ll tear his vocal cords. The pain is indescribable. It’s everywhere. Like they’re peeling him open, yanking at his tendons, stretching his arteries until they’re threads about to snap. It’s cold and searing at once, like having his flesh flayed and then doused in alcohol. It doesn’t get worse, but it doesn’t stop either. It lasts forever.

He might pass out. Any second now, his brain will shut down, give up entirely. But he fights it with everything he has.

Then it stops. The door opens. Reese exhales.

Relief doesn’t come. The pain persists. His muscles don’t respond. His limbs lie at his sides, weak. He wants to throw up. But before he can do anything, the plastic claws return, dressing him in fresh clothes. His clothes. Old clothes. Even that—the mere touch of fabric against his raw, burning skin—makes him cry out again. Still, he doesn’t stay down.

When the claws are done, the door emerges from the side. Quickly, Reese slides to the edge of the capsule. Half his body is out when the door hits his chest. The collision isn’t too strong, but the pressure to seal with the other side of the capsule is. With his free hand, he pushes against the door from the outside and slides the rest of his body out. A few tears escape his eyes this time.

He ends up on the floor, gasping for air, eyes closed, teeth clenched. Suddenly, the capsule rises and returns to the tracks. It heads out of the room.

The door is open.

Reese stands up and runs. Everything still hurts, but less than before. Just as the capsule leaves the room, he wedges his foot between the door and the frame to keep it from closing.

He breathes, sits down, rests his back against the wall, and holds the door open with one hand while peering through the gap. There’s a security office outside—and someone in it. A guard, bald and chubby. He’s not paying attention to the corridor; he’s too absorbed in his cellphone.

Reese stands up slowly, never losing sight of him. He runs through several scenarios to get out without being seen, but none seem possible. The guard is looking down at his phone, but he’s right there, no more than five meters away. He’ll notice if the door opens.

Fuck it.

He opens the door and steps out. The guard immediately lifts his head and stares at Reese with wide, round eyes.

“Thank God there’s someone here,” Reese says, walking toward the guard’s office. “I was just upstairs. They told me to get into the capsule. I did, and then I woke up here. I’m not sure if I should wait or…”

The guard stutters.

“I should call someone,” he says.

“Yeah, do that. But first—is there a bathroom back there? I seriously can’t hold it.”

The guard keeps staring, his mouth slightly open. But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he moves his hand toward the control panel on his desk.

“Wait!” Reese shouts. “You’re not gonna ask me for a selfie or anything first? I’m Contestant 13, by the way,” he continues. “I just won. Didn’t you see that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the guard says. “I saw it. I saw the way you brutalized your girlfriend.”

“Brutalized? I barely—” He stops. Then fakes the sweetest smile he can manage. It’s not difficult when he’s thinking about her. “You wanted Rebecca to win, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” the guard says. “She was a good girl. Never did anybody no wrong. Her only mistake was falling for you.”

That last line hurts more than the fibers being ripped out. Reese ignores the knot in his stomach—that part of him that agrees with the guard—and says:

“You’ve got good judgment. I think I like you.” He takes a step closer, his voice dropping. “Look, before you call them, can I at least use your bathroom? Those goddamn spiders won’t listen. You probably know how they are. I’ll be under for hours. Don’t wanna wake up soaked in piss.”

The guard hesitates, his hand resting on the panel.

“It’ll take a second, man,” Reese insists. “I can return the favor—tell everyone you were the hero who saved me from public humiliation.”

The guard glances at his bathroom door. “I don’t know…”

“What’s the worst that could happen, huh?” Reese asks, raising his hands and showing his palms. “Look, I’m not armed. You really think they’d let me walk around if they thought I could hurt someone? Come on, man. You know it’s safe.”

After a long sigh, the guard says, “Okay, what the hell,” and unlocks the door.

“Thank you, boss. My bladder’s about to explode.”

“Just a second,” the guard says. “And keep the door open so I can see you.”

“As you command.”

The guard finally lets him into his office.

Big mistake.

Reese jumps at him, kicks him in the stomach, and slams him against the desk, pinning his arms behind his back.

“Listen, I don’t want to kill you, okay? I’m trying to be a good person here,” Reese says. “I just need you to do one thing for me. That’s all. And there’s nothing you can do. I can’t die, you’ve seen it. They didn’t get the fibers out of me, so even if you try to call your friends, they won’t stop me.”

In that moment, Reese prays the guard doesn’t notice the bruises on his hand from sliding out of the closing capsule.

“What do you want?”

“I want the key to the room beneath the basement. That’s where they put the dead bodies, right? That’s where I want to go.”

The guard’s face lights up, but whatever he’s just realized, he doesn’t share it, and Reese doesn’t bother asking.

“On my chest. My identification opens all doors.”

Reese checks it out. It’s regular-sized, but metallic, with a QR code embossed on the back.

“Okay,” he says. He takes the card from around the guard’s neck but doesn’t release him. “Good. See? You collaborated. You just made the world a better place.”

“Did I, now?”

“Sure you did.”

Just to be extra careful, Reese slams the guard’s head against the desk one more time, and he goes unconscious. It’s true Reese doesn’t want to kill him, but he can’t risk the guy calling security.

Outside, the hallway is eerily silent. Abandoned. No drones. No theme song. Just a handful of scattered security cameras—too few to matter. At the far end, near the corner, lies the room where he first arrived, directly beneath the common room.

That means the basement is to the right, and the emergency stairs…

Skipping one, sometimes two steps at a time, he descends to the floor below. He turns a corner and finds it—a room labeled: CORPSES REPOSITORY.

Reese’s stomach tightens. The room is freezing, like a morgue. Metallic tables stretch out in neat rows, but he only cares about the one at the back, right in front of the wall.

Rebecca sits on it.

Not lying still. Not lifeless like in the arena—awake. Her legs swing idly off the edge, fingers fidgeting against the table. When she sees him, she doesn’t hesitate. She runs.

She throws herself at him, arms locking around his neck. He catches her without thinking, lifts her clean off the ground, and holds her so tight his skin burns again. Then tighter—like he’s afraid she’ll disappear.

Index

Stay tuned for the final chapter of the book.
I really hope you're enjoying it <3
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Index

#Log_070 – Grand Finale

“Let’s welcome them, ladies and gentlemen—the strongest, the most rebellious, the most exciting…”

“The ones who kept us on the edge of our seats with their constant push and pull.”

“The ones who pulled us into their love story.”

“The most iconic one we’ve witnessed in our ten years on air.”

“Presenting: Contestant 13 and Contestant 42!”

Reese and Rebecca step into the arena hand in hand. The stands are overflowing with people. The hosts are dressed in the fanciest outfits Rebecca has ever seen on them. The female host wears a silver, low-cut dress that accentuates her curves. The male host wears a black suit, silver shoes, a silver tie, and a silver rose in his chest pocket.

The screens surrounding the area display promotional pictures of Reese and her. Half the screens show him, smiling brightly at the camera, his number—number 13—spinning and twirling above his head. On the other half, Rebecca stands with her back to the camera, looking over her shoulder. Judging by her hair and the strap running across her back, she’s wearing ballet clothes. She doesn’t remember that picture being taken.

The same audience that spent the entire day tearing them apart, especially Reese, now cheers for them like devoted fans. The applause is deafening, but a few individual voices still cut through.

“I’ll always love you, Reese!”

“Come on, Rebecca, you can do this!”

As usual, two drones bind their wrists and ankles before lifting them onto the floating platforms. The transition is smooth, and so is the landing. But this time, before untying them, two drones scan their bodies.

Rebecca’s heart hammers so violently she fears it’ll trigger the relay—if the drone doesn’t find it first.

But it doesn’t. It doesn’t even flag the hidden dagger in her hair.

Her hands and legs are set free, and the hosts announce the start of the battle. She takes a moment to breathe. The arena goes silent. Not completely—she can still hear the cheering and the hosts hyping everyone up, but their voices come from a place that doesn’t quite reach her ears, like underwater or through glass.

What she does hear, loud and clear, are Reese’s footsteps. He takes a hesitant step toward her, then another, and another. He looks incredibly handsome tonight, smiling at her with his eyes. She feels the urge to run to him and hug him. Hide in his chest, close her eyes, and skip to the part where they’re safe and together.

But they can’t do it that way. The show’s still going. They have to pretend one last time.

Rebecca’s hands are sweating like crazy. She wipes them on her jumpsuit, but it doesn’t help. Suddenly, all her worries hit at once. What if the relay doesn’t work? What if she never wakes up? What if Reese doesn’t come back for her? What if he abandons her?

Reese stops in the center of the arena, his eyes fixed on her. Little by little, the sounds crawl back, and Rebecca remembers what she’s supposed to do. The only problem is, her legs don’t respond, and she can’t get rid of the sweat on her hands.

“Kill him!” someone in the audience shouts. “Kill that monster.”

“Kill the monster!” a group starts chanting. The rest of the crowd picks it up immediately. “Kill the monster! Kill the monster!”

“The people have spoken,” the male host says. “The people want her to live, Contestant 42.”

She looks up. It surprises her to see the female host looking straight into her eyes. She mouths something. Rebecca isn’t sure, but it seems like she just said, “You can do it.”

It’s true—she could do it. If she wanted to, she could grab the dagger and drive it straight through his skull. He wouldn’t resist. She would win. She would survive.

Reese noticed she was wearing it in her hair right before they entered the arena. She caught him staring.

“I’m not going to use it,” she said quickly.

He didn’t give her much of a reaction. Just a small nod. “It’s good that you have it. I want you to do what’s best, okay? Whatever you decide, I’ll accept it.”

“Come on, do something!”

The enraged voice of the viewer pulls her back to the arena. This time, it’s Rebecca who shortens the distance between them. She meets him in the center and stops. Reese raises his eyebrows—just slightly. It’s a question. One she’s supposed to answer.

Her fingers tingle for a moment. She’s more frightened than she wants to admit. She’s afraid of relying on technology she can’t even begin to comprehend. She’s afraid of what death feels like, even if it’s temporary. She’s afraid everything will turn out exactly how they planned it—and that she’ll have to live with the consequences.

Reese said he was broken. What if he really is?

Rebecca exhales a sigh charged with despair. Broken or not, he’s always put her first, like no one ever has before. Even now. Killing him would mean running away from what she truly desires. It would mean surrendering to Live’s hand. It would mean cowering from her passion, and from the man she loves.

Killing him would mean a life full of regret.

She takes one last step forward. They stand so close, his scent envelops her. Then she gives him the smallest nod.

Reese cups her face and strokes her cheeks. He speaks quietly—no one but her can hear him. “Are you sure?”

No, she isn’t sure. She’s terrified of all the things that could go wrong. But, even if it’s a mistake, it’s one she wants to make. She wants to fight for her dancing. She wants to fight for him.

In that moment of hesitation, he closes his eyes for half a second, flinching like he’s bracing for impact.

“Do what you have to do.”

Rebecca whispers back, “I’m sure.”

Reese exhales. Then he kisses her. Not a goodbye. A see you later.

When he breaks the kiss, he turns her around and locks his arm around her throat. It’s tight—but not tight enough to cut off her air completely. She grips his arm, playing her part, pretending to struggle. It’s time. She has to do it. She can’t back down. It has to be now.

Her fingers find her chest. She taps the relay.

Everything goes black in an instant.

Index

The show is over!
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Index

#Log_069 – Broadcasting: In Session

“You didn’t have to fuck me!”

Twelve years supporting your music.
Over three million dollars poured into your brand.

One hundred eighty-two incarcerations and fifty-three deaths in the riots.

Sleepless nights getting people to vote for you.
Countless hours of our time getting you what you wanted.
You didn’t have to fuck us.

Spider drones crowd the house, projecting the viewers’ rage. Reactions, stories, shorts, posts, memes, songs, video analyses, endless comment threads scrolling at breakneck speed. Every wall screams something different, but it’s all the same. Hate. Betrayal. Disgust.

Vanessa has become a sensation overnight. Her speech in the arena is an anthem now, a rallying cry for the fans—especially Reese’s fans.

The hateful accusations don’t target just him. They rage at Drugobrand too, and at Live—for allowing experimentation on contestants and promoting a monstrosity. People claim Drugobrand ruined Live, that Reese’s existence is their fault. The backlash is so vast and frantic that Drugobrand announces the fiber launch will be postponed. They also declare they will no longer sponsor Live. Both brands now face legal charges for crimes against humanity. All of it, overnight.

At first, Rebecca tries to make sense of it. Why do they hate him so much? Because he killed the other contestants? Isn’t that what he’s supposed to do? Because he loves her? Why is that so bad?

But then she realizes none of it matters. This is what Live wants. They need people to hate him. They need people to discredit him. It’s him versus them now. Live and Drugobrand are falling apart, and it’s because of him. Reese did that.

She wakes up early this morning. Before Reese. Before the drones start their broadcast—although one of them has already paid them a visit. Contestant 24’s phone is gone.

She wakes up wrapped in his arms. She never thought she’d get that again—the warmth, the safety. But there she is, pressed against his chest. Cozy. Held.

Yet she doesn’t stay. She slips out of bed, careful not to wake him, and steps into the silent hallway. She knows all the bathrooms are at her disposal now, but she retreats to her own.

Standing in front of the mirror, she stares at herself. It’s time. She could wait. She should wait. But she doesn’t want to.

With a pair of tweezers, she lifts the relay. Her fingers tremble, just slightly, as she presses it against her chest, right over her heart, calculating the best spot to place it.

Tiny silver, hair-like strings emerge from the sides of the relay, twirling like a centipede’s legs. As soon as it touches her skin, it burrows in instantly—just deep enough to stay hidden, shallow enough to reach with a tap.

One tap. That’s all she needs.

The rest of the day, Reese and Rebecca sit around on the roof. The sun is out, the sky a vivid, almost unreal blue, and best of all, up there, the spider drones aren’t projecting anything.

They’re still there. Their round, opaque bodies remain perched along the edges, lasers locked onto Reese and Rebecca’s foreheads. After a while, they get used to it. They only remember when they accidentally glance at the blinding red dots.

Rebecca sits with her legs spread wide, stretched to the sides. The position comes naturally—muscle memory kicking in from years of training. She doesn’t even realize she’s fallen into the posture of a dancer mid-stretch until she catches Reese watching her, amused. “Stop.”

He lies on his back, hands tucked behind his head. “What?”

“You know.” She exhales, hugging her knees. After a beat, she adds, “I like how quiet it is.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “Would you want to live somewhere quiet?”

She turns her head and watches him. He’s on his side now, elbow propped up, fingers idly twisting a strand of his hair. He looks relaxed. But Rebecca knows better.

“I used to like the city,” she says. “My dream was to live near as many theaters as possible. But after this, a quiet place sounds almost too tempting.”

“A quiet place it is, then,” Reese replies, settling back against the concrete.

“What about you?”

He only turns his head this time, squinting one eye against the sunlight.

“I’ll go where you go, I gotta make my woman happy.”

Rebecca lowers her head and chuckles.

“Well, I’ll think about it. Maybe we could have one of each.”

Reese laughs. “Oh! So you’re that kind of woman, huh?”

She kicks him playfully on the arm. After a pause, she asks, “Have you thought about how you’ll do it? Get… me?”

Reese doesn’t answer right away. He lifts his hand, palm up, letting the sunlight filter through his fingers. “Let me do it,” he says, his voice quieter now. “You can win. I’ll do the other thing.”

Rebecca straightens up. “Reese, don’t start again. First of all, it won’t attach.”

“We don’t know that.” He doesn’t blink, despite the sun. “Let me do it.”

Rebecca shakes her head. Then she looks at her ankle. Instinctively, she extends her leg and points her toes, the motion as natural as breathing.

“Ah,” Reese mutters. “The fibers.” He pauses. “I’ve never actually seen you dance in person, you know.”

“You saw me the other day.”

“I didn’t see anything. You were just finishing. I want to see the things you do in your videos.”

“You’ve watched videos of me dancing?” Rebecca asks, surprised.

Reese’s cheeks turn slightly pink. “I may have looked up a video or two.”

She bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile too much.

Reese sits up straight, his arms resting on his knees, his whole body angled toward her. With a mischievous look on his face, he grins. “Show me.”

Rebecca exhales through her nose. “No.”

“Come on, just a little.” He tilts his head, all lazy charm. “I want to see you move.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s no real protest behind it. “Fine. But don’t laugh.”

She pushes herself up, stepping away from him. Her muscles respond before her mind does, slipping into old habits. She rises onto the balls of her feet, arms shifting instinctively into position. Then, in one smooth motion, she spins—once, twice, three, four, five, six times—before lowering gracefully back to the ground.

Reese watches, eyes locked on her like she’s something rare. “Do it again.”

She exhales a quiet laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Please.”

She ends up doing it. But as she spins, Reese steps closer—too close. She catches the movement too late, and instinct takes over. To avoid crashing into him or losing her balance, she reaches for him, one hand pressing against his shoulder. His body is solid, his arms strong under her touch.

Reese doesn’t move. He just stares at her and holds her hand to keep her steady.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Rebecca steps back before she can think too much about it. The closer she allows herself to him—the happier, the warmer she feels—the worse her anxiety gets. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Reese doesn’t argue. But the way his gaze lingers on her is enough to make her chest feel too tight.

For a moment, time seems to stand still. The spider drones remain motionless, their lasers are the only sign they’re tracking their every movement. The sounds of the city drift in from the distance. The sun shines bright above their heads.

While holding her hand, Reese lifts it gently and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles.

Rebecca exhales.

Neither of them says anything. They don’t need to.

She steps toward him. He takes her by the waist and pulls her closer.

When he kisses her, it’s slow and delicate. His hands cup both sides of her face; his lips meet hers in quiet pauses. The cameras are watching, but it’s not for them. The outside world doesn’t get to stick its nose in.

The kiss is a promise. It’s their way of saying everything will go well. That they’ll stay by each other’s side, no matter what.

And Rebecca lets herself believe—just for a second—that maybe they can leave this place together.

Index

I loved writing this chapter.
There are some really cute moments.
Do you think Reese and Rebecca will end up together?
I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Thank you for being here <3

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Index

#Log_068 – The Semifinale

The common room feels haunted tonight. Every tick of the clock, every shift in the lens of the camera, the never-ending theme song. Rebecca has gotten so used to it that most of the time she doesn’t even hear it anymore. But tonight, the silence is so vast that the theme song seems to be playing inside her head.

She sits on the couch, arms crossed over her stomach, trying to keep still. Reese lounges beside her, deceptively relaxed, but she knows better. Contestant 24 is across from them, still tied to a chair. His head hangs forward slightly, his swollen face barely recognizable from the beating he took earlier.

Reese glances at him. “You remember the deal, right?”

Contestant 24 breathes out a short, humorless laugh, lifting his chin enough to glare. He mumbles something.

Reese smirks, unimpressed. He doesn’t push further.

The screen comes on with a brief countdown before the bright, shiny faces of the hosts appear in a close-up. The male host sighs dramatically, shaking his head.

“I have to be honest, folks,” he says. “I don’t even know what to say about this one. This semi-final won’t be what we expected.”

“It’s sad, really.”

“To think I liked him once. I was rooting for him. He seemed… vulnerable.”

“He made us believe in something bigger,” the female host adds, crossing her arms. “But now, whatever it is that he feels, it’s far from love.”

“The saddest part is, she believes him.”

Rebecca tenses.

“What did you expect? She comes here destroyed, with little to no experience in dating, and then he shows up, making her feel like she’s the most special woman in the world.”

The male host leans closer and fakes a sad smile. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How a person can go from being a symbol of perseverance and resilience to… this.”

“A psychopath,” the female host cuts in. “Taking advantage of a woman who’s just hit rock bottom and can’t get out.”

Rebecca drops her shoulders and sighs. She doesn’t yell, or get tense, or kick the chair in front of her—there’s no point. She doesn’t even turn to Reese; she knows he’s probably reacting the same. The one thing they both do, instinctively, almost synchronously, is find each other’s hand. Reese wraps his around Rebecca’s and gives her a soft squeeze. She strokes the back of his hand with her thumb.

The male host tilts his head. “Well, no point in dragging this out. We know what you want, and we want it too. Let’s see who’s heading to the semifinals.”

The screen cuts to black. A moment later, two numbers appear:

13 - 24

Rebecca’s stomach drops.

“How?” she whispers. It doesn’t make sense.

Reese exhales through his nose, then looks at Contestant 24. “Lucky you. Now you have the chance to kill me. Just make sure you keep the second part of the deal,” he adds, reaching into Contestant 24’s pocket and taking his phone. He unlocks it and tosses it to Rebecca.

A series of clicking footsteps approach from above as a drone lowers from the ceiling, its red light scanning Contestant 24’s bindings. The knots loosen. The crowd in the arena cheers as his restraints snap open completely.

Contestant 24 moves instantly, shaking off the string lights, rubbing his wrists, then shoving himself up. “Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice is throaty from staying quiet all day, his anger starting to pour out. “They voted for me over her?”

He turns to Rebecca, livid. “This is rigged. There’s no way they didn’t pick you.”

Rebecca is just as confused as he is. “I— I don’t know why they—”

“Bullshit!” Contestant 24 aims his shaking, bloodied hands at her. “You should’ve picked her! How can you all be so stupid? You’re doing them a favor!”

The drone at his side flashes red, nudging him forward. He tries to resist, but the steel arm jabs against his shoulder, forcing him toward the door. A second drone does the same to Reese.

“This is impossible!” Contestant 24 yells, his voice cracking. “D’you want her to win? You’re all idiots!”

Rebecca stays frozen, out of words.

“Hey, Rebecca,” Reese begins as he’s about to cross the door. The drone pushes him out, but he grips the frame and resists. “I’ll be back, okay? Get that video, just in case.”

She nods.

Contestant 24 thrashes one last time before the door slides shut behind them.

Silence.

Rebecca lets out a slow breath, staring at the space where Reese and Contestant 24 were just standing. Her heartbeat races, but she needs to watch.

Reese, please come back.

When the platforms lower and Reese and Contestant 24 step onto the arena floor, the crowd erupts. Most of them scream insults at Reese.

“You traitor!”

“Fucking simp!”

Some even throw objects—bottles, trash, whatever they can get their hands on. Reese pays no attention to any of it. If it weren’t for the hurt in his eyes, it would look like he hadn’t even noticed.

A drone swoops down and unbinds Contestant 24’s wrists and ankles, but none come for Reese.

“Hey!” Reese shouts, lifting his tied hands. “You’re forgetting something.”

The male host stands at the edge of the floating platform, his voice coming from all the speakers at once. Nothing else can be heard over it.

“Contestant 13, what you did today… not okay. Tying someone up like that?” He tuts, shaking his head like he’s scolding a child. “Bad behavior. So we thought, why not teach you a lesson? For tonight’s fight, you’ll stay tied up. That way, you can see what it feels like.”

Rebecca’s fingers curl around the fabric of her jumpsuit. She can’t breathe.

The camera zooms in on Reese’s face. For the first time, she sees real fear. His legs are bound. His wrists are locked together. How the hell is he supposed to fight like this?

“This isn’t fair!” Rebecca yells, but there’s no one in the common room to hear her.

She glances around. The room feels hollow. Too quiet. For a fraction of a second, the echo of their voices kisses her ear—Lena, Vanessa, all the other contestants. It’s just a murmur that tickles the back of her neck. She’s completely alone there.

“Let the battle begin.”

The host’s voice snaps her back.

Reese doesn’t move. He just stands there, feet firm on the ground, still as stone. It’s Contestant 24 who launches first. Reese lets him. What is he doing? Does he have a plan, or is he going to rely on the fibers?

Contestant 24 takes all the rage built up from the day and unleashes it, one blow at a time.

“You.” Punch. “And.” Punch. “Your.” Punch. “Fucking.” Punch. “Girlfriend.” Punch.

The crowd loves it.

When Contestant 24 finally steps back, shaking out his fist, his knuckles swollen and raw, Reese rolls to the side and spits blood. The bruises are already fading. The cuts seal themselves.

Contestant 24 growls. “How the fuck am I supposed to kill you?”

He kicks Reese hard, straight in the ribs. Reese coughs blood.

The fight drags on for another twenty minutes—Contestant 24 using Reese like a punching bag. At one point, he even tries to land a foot on Reese’s throat, but Reese tangles his ties around Contestant 24’s ankle, and he loses his balance. He falls on his back.

Rebecca brings her hands to her mouth and gasps.

Then she breathes. She’s glad he’s not relying solely on the fibers. She saw the clips of his fight against Vanessa. She smuggled a guitar string—probably one of Reese’s—and tried to cut his neck with it. She did, in fact, cut through his skin; that was the blood on his hands. Reese didn’t let her go too far, though. He pinched her eyes until she let go of the string, and then the rest was easy. One twist. Her neck broke in a wink.

Contestant 24 sits up straight and brushes the dirt off his face. He watches Reese closely, from a safe distance, while Reese struggles to stand with his legs tied together.

“Come on,” he says. “I’m getting bored. Let’s finish this.”

Rebecca grips the edge of her seat. What is he doing? Why is he riling Contestant 24 up when he’s at a clear disadvantage?

Contestant 24 doesn’t move. His eyes bounce from point to point on Reese’s form. He’s probably calculating, trying to find Reese’s weak spots. There’s no point in attacking his skin, his face, even his throat—she’s seen it herself. He recovers too fast. Only his brain and heart can be compromised.

But Contestant 24 doesn’t know that. And he’s wearing himself out.

Or is he? Rebecca’s blood goes cold when Contestant 24 looks at the camera and smiles.

He stands, steps back, and sprints toward Reese.

Reese, heels touching, hands in front of his body, braces for the impact.

Contestant 24 stops just centimeters from Reese, and at the last second, he tackles him through the neck. Reese falls on his back, Contestant 24 on top of him. He locks his legs around Reese’s waist and uses his own arm as a saw. He tries to copy Vanessa’s technique, only his tiny blades are slow and messy.

Reese shakes and thrashes but can’t get himself free. After a while, his face goes ghostly white and his veins and bones start to show.

“Do something!” Rebecca shouts from the common room. No one can hear her, of course.

Then, Reese does the last thing Rebecca would have expected. He turns his head to the side and bites Contestant 24’s arm. His teeth sink deep into the skin, tearing a piece of flesh and muscle. Some of the blades come off as well, destroying Reese’s teeth and lips.

Contestant 24 cries out, and his grip loosens.

Finally, Reese slips out from under his arm and slams an elbow into his gut. While Contestant 24 catches his breath, lying on the ground, Reese lunges—using his bound hands to loop around Contestant 24’s throat. He squeezes.

Contestant 24 fights the same way Reese did just moments ago. Then, slowly, he stops resisting.

Not even then does Reese let go.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner! Contestant 13!”

Rebecca exhales, relief hitting her all at once.

That night, just before falling asleep next to Reese, she posts something. Not a picture of the city or a generic object like she used to—just a simple sentence. A small attempt to offer a scrap of connection to whoever might need it:

“Thank you for not sending me to the arena today. I appreciate it.”

Index

We are so close to the finale >.<
I'd love to hear what you think.
Thank you for reading <3

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Index

#Log_067 – Remaining Participants: 3

The next morning, Rebecca wakes up in absolute, pleasant quiet. No—pleasurable. Despite what it means.

It’s one of those days when the sheets feel extra soft, and their cool texture keeps you fresh. But she needs to get on her feet. She decides so after rolling from one side to the other for the third time. She needs to be up before Contestant 24 is.

At breakfast, Reese is the only one in the dining room. Good. She sits across from him. He doesn’t speak, but he gives her a soft smile that weakens her knees. It’s brief. Cameras can’t catch it.

Rebecca sits down. Just like last night, she’s filled with… hope.

Then Contestant 24 strides in. He doesn’t bother with food. Doesn’t even glance at the other plate set for him. He walks straight toward them.

“You two have something that belongs to me.”

Reese doesn’t look up right away. He finishes chewing, swallows, and leans back in his chair. “No, we don’t.”

Rebecca freezes.

And Reese gives her a sideways look. He’s suspecting something. Something in her posture must’ve given it away. Maybe her hands are pressing too hard against the table, or it’s the way her shoulders tensed.

Her forehead starts to sweat.

Contestant 24 notices it as well. “Why so quiet, 42?”

Rebecca keeps her face blank. She says nothing. But that’s enough. Contestant 24 smirks. “You do know something.”

Come on, she tells herself. Don’t let him ruin it.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, lifting her head.

She knows that was a good enough answer. She knows she should stop there. But the words keep coming—the temptation is too big.

“Well, whatever it is you’re looking for…” she begins, tilting her head, faking sorrow, “maybe a drone took it.”

He goes red. His hand lashes out—straight for her wrist.

Rebecca jerks back, chair scraping against the floor.

But it doesn’t come to that. Contestant 24 stops mid-act. He lifts his hands, shows his palms to Rebecca, then smiles at her.

Fake.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I got confused. I had a bad dream last night. I haven’t been able to process Vanessa’s death. I mean, some of us can’t escape mourning by doing… fun stuff.” His smile widens.

Rebecca would’ve scoffed—Then why does your room reek of pot?—but she’s too alert. Contestant 24’s sudden gentleness unsettles her more than the drones’ cute shape.

He keeps going. “I would never touch a woman that way, unless my life was at risk, like in the arena. But not here, not where you’re with your guard down.”

After a moment of silence, under Contestant 24’s insistent gaze, she says: “Good to know.”

Reese clears his throat.

“There’s something else that I think would be good for everyone to know.” Contestant 24 stands up straight and looks at the camera in front of him, right above Reese’s head. “All of you are being fooled—out there in your homes, and up there in your offices, planning this show.” He extends an accusatory finger at Rebecca. “Because she—”

Reese moves instantly. He shoves a piece of bread into Contestant 24’s mouth, then grabs his wrist, twisting it hard enough to make him grunt. Finally, with one brutal shove, he slams him face-first onto the table. Plates bounce. A fork hits the floor under the chair. Reese keeps his grip firm, pressing his forearm against Contestant 24’s back.

“Rebecca.” His voice is unnervingly calm. “Give me something to cover his mouth.” He drags Contestant 24 across the table. “I won’t let you go around telling lies about Rebecca.”

Rebecca looks around. The napkins are paper, and there’s no tablecloth.

“Hurry up,” Reese shouts, holding Contestant 24’s mouth shut with his hand.

Rebecca ends up giving him the top she’s wearing under the jumpsuit.

“Good.” Reese wraps his fingers around Contestant 24’s hair and shakes his head. “Swallow it, damn it. Rebecca, now get me some wires.”

She blinks. “What?”

“Wires. This idiot’s got blades under his skin. Remember?”

Rebecca’s eyes widen. The blades are undetectable, but Reese is already bleeding. She pushes back her chair, turns, and bolts.

Compared to the rest of the house, the storage room is cold and humid. She scans the shelves. No zip ties. No wires. There’s nothing.

Then her eyes land on a tangled mess of string lights. Red, blue, and green. Cheap, but twenty-four meters long, according to the box. It’ll have to do. She grabs them, box and all, and rushes back.

When she returns, Contestant 24 is on the floor, arms pinned behind his back, her top tied tightly around his mouth. Reese is straddling him to keep him still.

“Toss em.”

Rebecca untangles what she can of the lights and hands them over.

Reese lets out a low chuckle. “Merry Christmas, you son of a bitch.”

He wraps the lights around Contestant 24’s arms, legs, and torso. Twists the wires especially tight around his wrists and ankles. Then he drags him to the closest outlet and plugs the lights in.

Contestant 24 shakes and pushes, but his blades only cut through the plastic. When the lights come on, they snap instantly back into his skin.

Reese sits back, admiring his work.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” he begins. “I can keep you like this all day and give you a chance to fight me in the arena. Or I can kill you right now. I don’t want to do that, but I’ll do it if I have to.”

Contestant 24 grunts. There’s not much he can communicate with Rebecca’s T-shirt stuffed in his mouth.

“No idea what you’re saying, man,” Reese continues. “Here’s what I want you to do: you’ll shut your mouth about whatever made-up story you were telling about Rebecca, and I’ll grant you this—we’ll fight tonight, fair and square.”

Contestant 24 doesn’t get a chance to react to Reese’s proposition. All three of their phones begin vibrating incessantly at once. The viewers are watching.

Reese doesn’t check his phone right away, but Rebecca does. The screen is flooded with messages, flashing comments, live reactions.

“Are we supposed to believe he’s always loved her now? Pathetic.”

“Why is he protecting her again? Is he really that desperate?”

Rebecca swallows.

Reese, completely unaware of the opinion of the outside world, grips Contestant 24’s collar and hauls him up in one motion, chair legs screeching against the floor. The lights stretch but don’t snap.

“I don’t think you heard my question. Do you want to die now or in the arena?” He lets Contestant 24 go, and the chair stumbles as it hits the floor, front legs first. “I know there’s a part of you that thinks you can beat me. Let’s try it tonight.”

Rebecca’s stomach churns. She feels responsible—not just for Contestant 24, but for Reese.

Contestant 24 mumbles something, but the words are impossible to make out.

“Nah-uh. I won’t let you speak until you give me an answer. Nod your head if you want to fight me in the arena. That also means you’ll shut your hole.”

Contestant 24 spits, but nothing gets through the shirt. Stupid move, Rebecca thinks, feeling almost sorry for him. The phones keep buzzing.

Reese’s fanbase suddenly erupts. Some give him the benefit of the doubt, but most are turning their backs on him.

“He’s lost it. What is he thinking?”

“He’s so close—is he really going back to her?”

“What the fuck, I thought he was done with that bitch.”

Rebecca grabs Reese’s sleeve and pulls. He turns to her immediately.

“Reese, maybe you should stop.”

“What do you mean?”

He notices Rebecca holding her phone and finally reaches for his own. He drags his fingers across the screen. For a moment, he just stares at it, scrolling through the notifications. He stays calm, but his brows knit together.

“You said they weren’t supposed to know.” Rebecca says, glancing at the cameras. “This could ruin everything.”

Reese doesn’t look at her. He locks his phone and sets it down with a sharp tap.

“I won’t let it.”

“What will you do?”

“I’ll take this piece of garbage to the arena with me.” His jaw tightens. “I don’t care who they vote for.”

Rebecca gasps. “The drones won’t allow it.”

“Are you sure? How come they haven’t even come near to stop this?”

He’s right about that. Rebecca hadn’t noticed the drones’ absence until now.

“Look, I don’t know how I’ll do it. But I’m taking him with me.”

Contestant 24 mumbles something, over and over. He gets so loud and annoying that Reese ends up loosening the shirt so he can speak.

“What?”

“Losing your golden boy status?”

Reese ties the shirt even tighter this time. For a moment, he stares blankly at his feet, calculating. Then, after a long pause, he looks up, straight into the nearest camera.

“It really doesn’t matter who you vote for tonight, my lovelies. Go ahead, have fun. We’ve already discussed it—it’ll be me and him in the arena.” He jerks his chin toward Contestant 24, who’s shaking his head and moaning. “He doesn’t want to die here, behind the cameras. I want to at least give him the chance to fight before I kill him. And my guess is you don’t want to miss it either.” He shrugs. “So, you decide.”

Rebecca checks her phone. The response is instantaneous.

“Yup, he’s hung up on her again.”

“He made us believe in him—for what? To save the bitch? Fuck him.”

“I feel cheated.”

She scrolls and scrolls through the endless row of comments, until Reese, without warning, brushes her hair back and kisses her deep and slowly.

“At least now I can do that again,” he murmurs after the kiss.

Rebecca takes a breath.

“Reese, I’m so sorry.”

He pauses. “I don’t care.”

But Rebecca knows he does. His fanbase has been his greatest weapon. Everything he has—everything he’s achieved—is because of them.

Without another word, Reese kisses her forehead and goes back to Contestant 24. Rebecca tries to avoid looking at them by turning to her phone instead. But she doesn’t know which is worse.

The backlash doesn’t stop. Notifications come and go so fast she can’t even read them all. The outrage shifts from disappointment, to fury, to pure, bitter resentment.

“I’m burning everything I own with his name on it.”

“What a joke. We really thought he could win.”

“He made us believe in him, then threw it all away for some bitch.”

“Weak. That’s all he is. Weak.”

“He doesn’t deserve the finale.”

Rebecca keeps reading, but Reese’s voice reaches her. He’s sharing his “new plan,” as he called it, with Contestant 24. It basically involves him keeping his mouth shut and, as an apology, offering to fight in her place if she’s picked.

THUD.

The sound of bone meeting flesh makes Rebecca flinch.

Reese stands over Contestant 24, who’s sweating under the Christmas lights. His eyebrow is split, blood dripping down his cheekbone. He glares up at Reese, seething, and mumbles something that could easily be understood as “Fuck you.”

Reese wipes his knuckles against his jumpsuit. “That’s not the answer I’m looking for.”

Contestant 24 coughs.

Another punch—this one harder. Contestant 24’s head snaps sideways.

Reese exhales, shaking out his hand. “Try again.”

Silence.

There’s a shadow in Reese’s eyes that rattles Rebecca. It’s not the bruised kind that comes from lack of sleep—it’s a dark aura, similar to the one he had the night everyone jumped. She steps forward and places a hand on his arm, just before he launches at Contestant 24 again.

“Reese, stop.” She looks deep into his eyes. “Let me try something.”

Reese frowns, but steps aside.

Rebecca kneels in front of Contestant 24. She rests her hands on her thighs, trying to hide her trembling, and lifts off her heels. She hovers just beneath him.

“I’m really sorry you’re going through this. I wish we could’ve done things differently.”

He rolls his eyes, but Rebecca ignores him.

“The thing is, we could let you go, and you could say whatever you want about me—but, you see, I could do the same with you.”

Contestant 24 narrows his already swollen eyes.

“I know something about you,” Rebecca continues. “Something that could make you look like the biggest traitor if people found out. And you don’t want to be remembered as a coward or a traitor. Because the viewers remember. They talk about contestants from past seasons in the forums, on Live’s feed, even on other platforms. What do you want them to say about you?”

Contestant 24 pretends to yawn.

“I’m sorry—am I not making myself clear?” Rebecca asks. “What I’m trying to say is, have you been experimenting with AI lately? Maybe making some videos?”

Contestant 24 glares at Rebecca without blinking, his eyes red from fear and helplessness.

Reese squats next to her and smiles. The admiration in his eyes makes Rebecca blush. Then he turns to Contestant 24 and pats his knee.

“Do we have a deal, then?”

Contestant 24 sways in the chair, panting through the fabric covering his mouth. Light pours over his bruised face. He looks up at the camera, then at Reese. He coughs again, the shirt now stained red. He mumbles something.

“What was that?” Reese asks, lowering the shirt just slightly.

“I won’t say anything.”

Reese smirks and pats him on the shoulder, the gesture almost friendly. He turns back to the camera, wiping his bloody knuckles against his pants.

“There. That’s what we want.”

Rebecca breathes again—for a moment, she had stopped—and stands up to check her phone. The comment section has turned into a battlefield. Reese’s fans argue he’s a coward for going back to Rebecca, while the rest of the audience insists he’s using her again to gain sympathy.

“He’s trying to look like the hero. Got tired of being the bad guy, probably. Not profitable enough.”

“To hell with him. He chose her over us.”

Things settle as the day progresses. Contestant 24 stays tied up, but eventually, he stops complaining. Rebecca spends most of her time in the training room, while Reese never leaves the dining hall. He keeps an eye on Contestant 24 to make sure he can’t break free.

When she finally comes back, they’re both still there, but Contestant 24 is facing a wall, and Reese is sitting on a table, his back turned to the door.

Rebecca walks up to him and slides a hand across his back. She rests her chin on his shoulder and notices he’s holding his phone. When she looks closer, she sees what he’s watching.

A group of people is gathered outside a store. Someone holds up one of his records, then throws it onto a pile of CDs, vinyls, posters—everything with his name on it. Another person pours gasoline, then lights a match. Flames spread.

They both watch the fire eat through his image—his legacy.

She hugs him tighter and strokes the back of his head. “What are you gonna do?” Her voice is quiet, careful. “To get them back?”

Reese doesn’t answer right away. He watches the screen a moment longer, then locks his phone and tosses it aside.

“There’s nothing to do,” he says. “That’s over. Let’s focus on you now.”

“I got it, by the way,” she whispers in his ear. “We’ll be able to do it.”

He pulls back slightly. “You still want that, right?” He narrows his eyes. “You know you can change your mind.”

“I still want this.”

Reese stiffens. His face twists with fear and guilt. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

Rebecca drops her arms. “What? Reese, you promised.”

“I know,” he says. “And I don’t want to disappoint you, but…” He sighs. “I don’t know if I can go back out there anymore.”

“Reese, you have to.”

“Becky.” He turns to her and grabs her hands. “Look at me. I’m… broken.”

“No. Reese, listen to me.” She presses closer, whispering again. “You decide who you become, and you decide what to do with the things you’ve done here. You can let them define you, or you can see them for what they are.”

“Proof that I’m a monster?”

“No. Desperate actions to protect yourself and… the people you care about.” She blushes again. “Reese, when I arrived here, I had lost everything. I felt powerless—so incredibly small. Please, Reese, don’t leave me alone in this.” She breathes the last part against his skin. “I need you to come back and find my body, okay? I trust you.”

Reese opens his mouth once, twice—he wants to protest. But he doesn’t. He looks terrified. After a beat, he nods and hugs her. Softly at first, then tighter.

“Just… don’t ever leave me.”

Index

Reese 🥺
Thank you for reading <3

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Index

#Log_066 – Unusual Activity Detected

Rebecca drags her bare feet across the cold floor. The hallway is empty, lit by the soft blue glow of emergency lights. A camera beeps somewhere above, tracking her movement, but she doesn’t let it intimidate her. She knows exactly what to do.

She and Reese agreed this is how it has to be. No more waking up together in the morning. No more walking or sitting side by side. If they want to make it to the finale together, they have to keep up the act. The fight. The distance.

But there’s another reason for Rebecca to leave Reese’s room while it’s still dark. Her eyes land on Vanessa’s room as soon as she turns the corner. She stops in front of the door.

Little clicks on the floor announce the arrival of a spider drone. Its front red light is off, but she’s convinced it’s looking at her anyway.

“What?” Rebecca asks. “I miss her.”

She opens the door. It really is strange that Vanessa’s not there anymore—that none of them are. What’s even crazier is that she’s not gone with them.

The drone doesn’t react when Rebecca steps inside, but it stays right there, watching.

Vanessa’s room is a mess. The bed is unmade, and there are clothes everywhere except in the drawers. Tweezers, a needle, a magnifying lens and a tube of thick adhesive are piled on the little desk where Rebecca’s mirror sits.

Rebecca searches too. She checks the drawers, under the bed, and the bathroom cabinet. She doesn’t even know what she’s looking for—maybe a clue, notes on its appearance, its size, the material it’s made of. Anything.

“The drones must have taken it.”

“Yeah, right.”

The drone pushes the door with its tiny leg; a squeak in the hinges gives it away. Rebecca jumps onto the bed and lies with her back to the door. She waits a moment, completely still, pretending to fall asleep. After a full minute, she looks over her shoulder. The door is closed again.

Rebecca takes a deep breath and places her phone on the pillow. Once she’s up, her feet carry her to the sliding door.

It’s stupid, what she’s thinking—an unnecessary risk that will probably lead to nothing. She could secure her victory by following Reese’s plan. She could save herself and leave everything else behind.

Yet, she’s decided: she doesn’t want to kill Reese. And she doesn’t want to give up dancing either.

She knows the risk. She knows how incredibly greedy her decision is. But hope is so much stronger than she ever imagined. Hope that it’ll work. Hope that Vanessa found a way to outsmart Live, and they don’t know anything about this escape route. Hope that she’ll have not one, but two things in her life that she loves.

That remote, almost absurd hope is enough.

She slides the glass door open and steps onto the balcony. The wind hits her first. Then, gripping the handrail, she lifts herself and positions her feet on it.

She stands upright, steadying her balance.

“Okay.” she whispers.

She leans against the exterior wall of the balcony and looks into the room through the window. The drone hasn’t come back inside. She looks down—the height is overwhelming.

“Don’t do that.”

The street glows from the advertisement signs, but the sidewalk is empty and no cars pass by. The windows in the surrounding buildings show the city is resting.

She takes a deep breath, remembering how she used to do it when she danced. Back then, she stood on her partner’s shoulders—at least the handrail doesn’t flinch. Besides, she wasn’t as flexible then as she is now.

She stretches out a leg and gives a small jump, but her foot slips at the last moment, and she nearly misses the next handrail. She doesn’t fall, but instead of landing on her feet, her stomach hits the rail and she quickly wraps her arms around it.

While her legs hang loosely in the air, she notices something. The outer edge of the handrail is metal, not concrete like the rest of the balcony. It’s barely noticeable. The color of the metal matches the concrete. But it’s there for a reason.

She swings her legs over and drops her entire body onto the balcony of Contestant 23’s room.

Lying there, panting on the floor with her back pressed against the window, one thing becomes unmistakably clear: the reason there are no cameras on the balconies. They want them to pull stunts like this. They want them to fall.

Everything spins. She looks up at the roof. Reese did them a favor when he made them all jump. He made things entertaining for the watchers, made things easier for the contestants, and sped up the finale.

In two days, it’ll be over. In two days, it’ll be exactly two months since they got there.

She takes a breath, in and out, over and over. Her heart won’t stop racing. Is everything they’re doing part of Live’s plan? Are they winning again?

She rubs her hands over her face and stands up. It’s too late to care. She’s already halfway there.

She exhales, steadies herself, then repeats the same steps reaching for Contestant 24’s balcony—careful not to touch the metal edge. When she lands, she tucks herself into a corner, hidden behind the curtain. The sound of snoring confirms he’s asleep. And the sliding door is open.

The room smells like pot and leather. Once inside, she freezes. Now what? Panic paralyzes her for a second. Then she spots his phone on the nightstand. She grabs it silently, walking on tiptoes, and holds it in front of his face to unlock it. It works.

She sprints to the bathroom, keeping the lights off. There, she sinks into a corner and checks the phone. She starts with the image folder but finds nothing. Then his notes, calendar, AI chat. She scrolls through at least ten different versions of the same deepfake—Vanessa and her, kissing.

That bastard.

Finally, she checks his messages.

In his last conversation, there’s a string of voice messages. She picks one at random, lowers the volume, and presses play.

“No chance. The guy’s freaking indestructible. The only thing that worries me is if the bitch gets saved.”

Rebecca’s pulse slows. She doesn’t even feel angry—she’s too scared for that.

She listens to the next message, the one sent by the other person.

“Yeah, I’ve been asking around. Everyone’s doing their job. She’ll get the downvotes.”

“She’d better,” Contestant 24 replies. “Thank you, by the way, for all the help. Are you sure the relay’s safe?”

“Dude, we’ve used them for years now. Nothing’s ever happened. Did you put it on?”

“Not yet. Tomorrow. I don’t want to activate it accidentally. You don’t know if it works more than once, right?”

Rebecca stays still, mouth covered, listening.

“Place it somewhere you won’t hit by accident—just make sure it’s close to a vital organ. And yeah, no. Don’t use it more than once.”

“Tomorrow I’ll tell you how it goes.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be watching. Remember, one tap. Two hours.” A pause. “I can’t believe Vanessa didn’t get to use it.”

The unknown recipient speaks with sorrow.

“I know, but she told me to keep it if anything happened to her.”

“Didn’t she say she’d lost it?”

“Yeah, but then she found it. Too bad she was voted off before the finale.”

Rebecca stays in place. She doesn’t need to hear any more.

Instead, she opens the search engine.

What are doctors using to research death?

Search results flood in. Clinical trials. Experimental use. Specialists around the world testing ways to shut down the brain—inducing temporary death—to study consciousness. But they never mention how they do it.

Reese’s words come back to her. “You’ll find something else, something you’ll love.”

Her throat tightens.

She waits. Then, she moves quickly back to where Contestant 24 is sleeping. She searches the nightstand first, then under the bed.

Nothing.

Contestant 24 stirs, and Rebecca hides behind the foot of the bed. She closes her mouth and holds her breath. Another snore. She exhales and keeps looking.

She checks the bathroom next. The cabinet door creaks as she opens it, her fingers skimming over the surface—until her fingertips brush against something small but unfamiliar. A barely visible plastic case, tucked behind his bottle of cologne. She gasps and grabs it. The object is small—two millimeters square, tops. Its surface gleams inside the tiny, translucent box.

She exhales a quiet, shaking breath. This must be it.

“Oh my God, I did it. I found it.”

She puts it in her pocket—the one with a zipper—and returns to Vanessa’s room the same way she got there. On her way out into the corridor, she opens the door. And stops. A red light zeroes in on her just outside.

The drone.

It doesn’t attack. Doesn’t move. It just hovers, watching.

Rebecca meets its lens for a fraction of a second before slipping past it. She doesn’t run—running would be pointless. Instead, she walks back to her room, her back straight, her pace measured.

And she doesn’t look back.

Index

With this Log, the last chapter the book begins: The Love Story
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Index

#Log_065 – Concealed Transmission

Rebecca finally leaves the common room and heads to her usual training booth. She practically bounces on the way there, and she’s not even sure why.

Then, she does the only thing that’s worth the sweat. She dances.

Her dancing turns playful tonight. Some movements come out unpolished, but there’s a rhythmic game of balance she really enjoys when switching from one step to another. It’s during a fouetté transition that she suddenly becomes painfully aware she only has two days left in the show. Two days until she either dies or goes back to having a broken leg.

What has she been doing all this time, if not this?

She gets so immersed in the dancing—her five senses dedicated solely to the movement of her body—that she doesn’t notice Reese standing at the doorway, watching her. It’s only between songs that she sees him: his hands stained with blood, his breath slightly uneven. Other than that, he looks perfectly fine.

“How…?” Rebecca asks in a whisper, pressing a hand to her stomach.

“She didn’t suffer,” Reese says, stepping forward.

“There’s blood on your hands.”

“Mine.” Another step.

Rebecca instinctively moves back, only to hit the booth’s wall. Reese reaches her in an instant.

“Now it’s time for your part of the deal,” he says, stopping right in front of her.

“What deal? I didn’t agree to anything. I didn’t want you to fight for me.” Rebecca’s voice rises. “I’ve been so clear about it, I can’t believe you still haven’t picked up on it.”

She expects a reaction from him, but he just sighs and glances toward the booth’s entrance.

“Okay, fine. You won’t play along.”

Rebecca frowns.

“Of course I won’t.”

He nods.

“Kitchen’s full of drones. So is this place.”

She’s suddenly so confused, she can’t do anything but stare at him. She hates that his calculating eyes and the way he nibbles at his lower lip remind her of the old Reese—the one she trusted enough to crawl through vents and break into the show’s system.

“Rebecca,” he begins, taking another step closer. Now the tip of his nose touches her temple. “Play along.”

Rebecca freezes.

He takes her silence as a yes and puts one hand on her waist and the other at the back of her head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, as his lips travel along the edge of her ear. Then, in the same breath, he adds, “It has to look rough.”

He grips her hair and tilts her head back. Rebecca’s heart drums against her chest in sixty-fourth notes. It only stops when he kisses her—a kiss so forceful, so consuming, that for a moment, she forgets where she is. When he pulls away, she’s breathless.

As he heads for the exit, he laces his fingers through hers and pulls her. Rebecca doesn’t move. What am I doing? She looks at Reese. There’s something in his eyes that compels her to follow.

A survival instinct? A need for a strategy? The desire to be touched and loved by him again—to finally erase Contestant 1’s horrible memories?

She follows.

Once inside Reese’s room—more specifically, his bathroom—things take a drastic turn. First, he takes Rebecca’s phone and his own and throws them on the bed. Next, he turns on a speaker from his nightstand and places it just outside the bathroom door. The music is so loud, it drowns out everything else.

Then he pulls her inside. He stays by the door, holding the handle behind his back.

“Turn the shower on, please.”

“No.”

“Rebecca, please. Do it.”

She exhales. Everything about this feels wrong, yet there’s a stronger force inside her that pushes her to entertain it.

I’ll be dead in two days, anyway.

She slides the glass door open and turns on the water. The shower starts running. Steam quickly blurs her surroundings.

“Now,” Reese says. He’s surprisingly hesitant. “Take off your clothes.”

“That can’t be necessary.”

“It is, actually.” If he’s faking that sorry look on his face, he’s very good at it. “You can’t be seen walking around in wet clothes.”

“What do you want?”

He shakes his head, then gestures at the shower.

Rebecca hugs herself. What have I gotten myself into?

“Turn around,” she tells him. He obeys.

Her fingers tremble so uncontrollably she keeps missing the buttons. When she pulls down her trousers and panties, her knees wobble just as much.

“What do I do now?” she asks, trying to cover her body with her arms as much as possible.

Reese doesn’t answer immediately.

“Can I look at you?”

“No.”

Silence.

“Alright. Get in the shower. I can wait.”

Rebecca steps inside and slides the glass door almost shut, leaving a narrow slit open to peek at Reese. He picks up her clothes and places them along the bottom of the door. Then he does the same with his jumpsuit. Only then does he begin to take off the rest of his clothes.

Rebecca takes a step back and stops watching.

The next thing she knows, Reese is covering the glass door with towels. Once he secures them, he steps inside the shower. He shuts the door and stands there, his back turned to her.

“Can I look at you now?”

Rebecca’s chest rises and falls violently. “What is this, Reese? Explain it to me.”

“I will,” he says. “Can I turn around?”

She hesitates. They’re both naked, dripping wet, vulnerable in a way that makes her want to run. Adjusting her arms, making sure they’re in the most strategic position, she finally replies,

“Okay.”

He does, slowly, lifting his head as if she were some kind of royal authority.

“How are you, Rebecca?”

She shakes her head. Her hair is so wet it sticks to her face.

“You can’t do this. We both decided to stop whatever this was.”

“Do you want to go?”

Rebecca gasps. He’s giving her an out. Just like that? Should she take it?

“I’m glad you want to stay,” Reese says, before she can find an answer even for herself.

“I want to understand.” That part is true.

“Where do you want me to start?”

Do you love me? She swallows the question, saving it for later. If ever.

“Did you plan for them to die when they jumped?”

Reese stays silent. Then he simply says, “You said you didn’t want to be here any longer.”

The water burns her skin red, yet his words make her blood run cold.

“You did, then.”

“I wasn’t sure they’d die. But I hoped so.”

“You killed them.”

“Wasn’t the first time. Or the last,” he says, without a hint of remorse. “The others were by my own hands. I’m not justifying it—I’m admitting it. And don’t think it didn’t get to me. But it had to be done. You know that, Becky.”

In that moment, Rebecca wishes she had a third hand to cover her face, because she can’t hold back the tears. She lowers her head, but her hair stays put.

“Why am I here, Reese?”

“Because today was too close,” he says. “I got worried.”

“I’m so stupid,” Rebecca mumbles. “You’re either playing with my mind again, or you’re just as mad as Contestant 6.”

Reese drops his shoulders, his back pressed against the glass door.

“Is that what you think of me?”

Rebecca rolls her eyes. She won’t even bother answering that question.

“I fucked up that bad, huh?”

“What do you think?”

“Are you scared of me?” Again, no answer. “I could ask you not to be, but that won’t make a difference, will it?” He sighs. “Just… listen to me, yeah? I need you to do something.”

“What now? You want me to crawl through the gutters?”

Reese’s lips curve into the hint of a smile, but he stops it halfway.

“I’m so sorry I failed you. We’re only two days away from the finale, and I don’t think I’ll manage to get us both out of here. I can’t think of a way without that asshole’s phone. I screwed everything up when I lost it.” He rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “So we’ll have to go with plan B. Might actually be the best plan, anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” Rebecca demands.

“I got something in my jumpsuit. A hair stick. Careful with the point. Sharp little bastard. Take it. Just remember—when the time comes, aim here.” He points to his head. “Or here.” He taps over his heart. “Will you do it?”

Rebecca stiffens.

“It’ll be hidden in your hair,” he continues. “It’s wood, so it won’t set off anything. Looks thin, but it’s strong enough to go through bone if you drive it hard enough.”

“How did you manage to get that in here?”

“I carved it from leftover wood I found in the storage room. Always wondered why they kept knives in the training room. Training with knives is useless if we aren’t allowed to use them in battle. Bet next season they’ll get the hint and make weapons out of tweezers.”

It doesn’t make any sense, Rebecca thinks. It almost sounds like Reese is still considering sacrificing himself so she can win—exactly what she wanted to prevent by cheating on him with Contestant 1. Exactly what Cerevora predicted.

But why?

“No,” Rebecca says immediately.

Reese frowns. “Why not?”

“Why do you want me to win? You said you didn’t love me. You said I wasn’t the woman you thought I was.”

Those words had printed themselves onto her retinas like tattoos. Just like another one of his half-confessions.

“Just remember what I’ve been asking you all this time, will ya? You will have to do that, yeah?”

Reese brushes his hair back and takes a deep breath.

“Your phone was in the room when I said that. But it wasn’t just that—I was freaking pissed, Rebecca. I was hurt.” He studies every inch of her face. “I really thought that was it for me. But I couldn’t stop loving you. I never will. I know that now.”

The music outside and the noise of the water crashing down don’t let Rebecca think straight.

Reese continues. “Will you take it with you? The hair stick?”

“I don’t get it, Reese,” Rebecca says, ignoring his last question. “You told Vanessa earlier that you never loved me. That it was a misjudgment on your part.”

“I had to,” he responds quickly. “I thought you knew why.”

“I don’t.”

“To keep you away from the arena, why else? I’ve been keeping track. You lost roughly forty percent of your views after we broke up, compared to when we were together. And my fans are more willing to give you their safety votes now that they think I want to kill you in the finale. Say what you want, but it’s a lot safer for you when it looks like I don’t care about you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fair enough,” Reese says. “Don’t believe me. Just take the dagger and use it on me in the finale.”

“I said I won’t.”

“Why? You can’t possibly want me to win anymore. Do you want Contestant 24 to be the winner?”

“No, but I don’t want to win either. I made my decision a long time ago, Reese. Before even coming here. I stopped caring about my life the day I was told I’d never be able to dance again.”

“Rebecca…”

For the first time since they got in the shower, Reese closes the distance between them. Just slightly, but enough for Rebecca to feel goosebumps.

“You’ll find something else. A new passion—something you love. You’ll succeed, because that’s who you are. You’ll make friends, because you’ve learned to open up. And…” He exhales slowly. “You’ll find love. You deserve love.”

Rebecca studies him in silence. He doesn’t blink.

“That day,” Reese continues, “we’ll show the world that this rotten circus, and all the twisted people who watch it, couldn’t destroy what we feel for each other. Because I get it now.” He searches for her eyes. “At first, it didn’t make any sense. If they had access to every conversation we had—to everything we were planning—why didn’t they stop us some other way? Why was the only consequence our relationship falling apart? But then it hit me. They saw us as a real threat.”

His cheeks flush. “Our… love, our bond—it scares them. They need us isolated. Here and out there, watching. Empty. Desperate to latch onto something. But we showed them something else.” He cups her face, his thumbs brushing her skin. “That you can meet someone, flaws and all, and love them for who they are. Love them because they push you to be better. Because, in their presence, you can stop pretending to be someone else. That kind of love is dangerous to them. They don’t know it. Their machines can’t predict it.”

Rebecca doesn’t know what to say or what to believe. The only thing she’s sure of is that she wants to believe. She wants to give him her trust again. Is that so wrong?

After a moment, she lets her head drop forward and presses her forehead against his shoulder. He hugs her slowly. Delicately, like he’s afraid she’ll break.

Then she says, “Reese, I don’t want to win.”

Even though she can’t see his face, she notices him open his mouth to protest, but she’s faster.

“I want to escape.”

He breaks the hug.

“Rebecca, I wouldn’t know how.”

She swallows.

“What if I told you I might have possibly found a way?”

“You what?”

“I’m not sure yet. All I know is I may have to fake my own death.”

“No,” Reese says immediately. “You won’t do that. It’s too dangerous, and Live will think they won.”

“I don’t care what they think. If I’m going to leave this place, I want to take the fibers with me.”

“But, Rebecca…” He strokes his hand against her cheek.

“I know what you’ll say,” she interrupts him. “That I’ll find something else. That I’ll end up loving it. But I don’t want something else. And I don’t want to kill you. I was lucky enough to dedicate my life to the one thing I love, once. If I have to fight for something, I’d rather fight for that than for something I don’t even know I’ll ever find again. There are people who spend their whole lives looking for it and never do.” She sighs. “I want to keep dancing. And I want you there.”

Reese’s face softens as he presses his forehead against hers.

“I’ve been dying to hear you say something like that.” He tilts his head, and Rebecca thinks he’s about to kiss her, but he doesn’t. Instead, he adds, “That’s why I can’t let you do this. It’s too dangerous.”

“This is what I want. You don’t get to choose for me.”

“What about the show? Can’t expect me to sit back and let those bastards think they beat us.”

“You should. It could work in our favour. They won’t pay attention to us if they think they’ve won. We just have to pray we don’t get picked tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about that. You’re safe.” But the way his voice cracks shows he’s not sure either. “I don’t know, Rebecca.”

“Reese, let’s try one more time, okay? What people think—or what the show thinks—doesn’t matter. They’ll forget in a week anyway. Let’s fight for what we want. And I want to do this, but I need your help.”

He runs a hand through his hair and shakes it, hard. “Holy sh―” Then their eyes meet. “Alright, Becca. We’ll do it your way. But take the dagger with you. In case you change your mind.”

Rebecca doesn’t promise him anything.

And Reese watches her, his gaze undressing her further, as if she isn’t already naked.

“You’re beautiful, Rebecca,” he murmurs. “I’m so glad to have you.”

Index

>.<
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Reebecca forever or nah??
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Index

#Log_064 – Trending: #Fake Or Legit

Reese picks up Rebecca’s phone and sets it in front of her on the table, but she doesn’t even want to touch it. Her hands are shaking too much.

Contestant 24 snorts. “Well, that’s creative.” He leans back, amused. “You two gonna confirm or deny?”

Vanessa’s jaw drops open. “This is disgusting,” she says, her full attention—and anger—aimed at Contestant 24. “I can’t believe you think this is funny.”

“I just think it’s so stupid it’s barely harmful,” he says, defending himself. “You know they’re trying to make you react like this, don’t you?”

“They also want to make people laugh,” Rebecca says, stating the obvious. “And apparently, it’s working.”

Contestant 24 lets out a bitter laugh.

“Twisted little viewers we’ve got,” Reese mutters, eyes glued to his phone. He doesn’t laugh. His face is expressionless.

Rebecca swallows. Her eyes keep darting back to her phone, but she still can’t bring herself to pick it up. She wants to vomit whatever’s boiling in her chest—but what exactly is it? That she’s embarrassed? That she doesn’t want to be seen like this, fabricated like this? That she hates the idea of people doing whatever they please with her face?

Vanessa exhales sharply and shuts off her screen. “Whoever made this, I hope they choke.”

Contestant 24 chuckles, shaking his head. “Seriously, it’s not worth getting riled up about. In fact, take it as a compliment. You two are officially a fanfiction trope now.”

Rebecca grips her spoon so hard her skin aches.

Reese, still watching, finally blinks and swipes the video away. He doesn’t even listen to Contestant 24’s jokes. He doesn’t say anything else. Just pushes his bowl forward, still untouched, and leans back in his chair.

For the first time since sitting down, he looks at Rebecca, and they hold each other’s gaze. He doesn’t seem to be judging her. He doesn’t seem amused. Whatever’s happening in his head, Rebecca can’t grasp it anymore.

Then she looks away—at her phone, which she finally picks up.

Rebecca knows it’s a mistake, yet she opens the video again. The comments have doubled, the likes are in the thousands. Everyone is reposting it. The video is everywhere.

The fandom sure is having a great time debating it. Some think it’s real. Others argue it’s AI. Theories, analysis, edits. It’s all-consuming. “Notice how they look at each other,” someone captions, attaching a slowed-down gif. “The tension has been there all along.”

It doesn’t help that later, a clip of Vanessa leaving Rebecca’s room in the middle of the night gets leaked and starts circulating online.

“Told you it’s real. They slept in the same room last night.”

“So Rebecca’s third, then? Man, that girl’s thirsty.”

Rebecca’s stomach twists, and her heart breaks in half. Or maybe it’s her ego. Whatever it is, both are equally painful.

She puts her phone in her pocket, but that doesn’t stop it. The world won’t shut up about her just because she closes her eyes. It’s burned into her mind. This is how millions of people will think of her now.

Maybe even Reese.

Not that it matters—she already proved she’s not the woman he thought she was.

Later, in the common room, the four of them wait. Rebecca’s leg bounces. She doesn’t know if it’s nerves or just plain dread. Vanessa sits beside her, scrolling through her phone, biting her perfect nails. Her fingers tap the screen a little too hard. Rebecca doesn’t think she’s acting like this because of the video. It’s the other thing.

She probably hasn’t found it.

“Uyuyuy! Four contestants left!”

“And what a mix.”

“We’re so close to the finale. Sadly, one of them needs to leave us tonight.”

“Do you want to know which numbers were selected?”

“Actually, I’m kind of nervous. What do you say, up there in the stands? Shall we see the numbers?”

The screen goes black. The public’s roar rises like war drums.

22 - 42

Rebecca feels the cold jab at her ribs like needles. Vanessa stares at the screen for a second too long, and when she turns to Rebecca, she looks almost relieved. She exhales and stretches, then opens her arms to Rebecca, expecting a hug.

“Come here.”

Rebecca barely processes it before Vanessa reaches for her and wraps her arms around her shoulders. Rebecca hesitates—but only for a second. Then she hugs her back. It feels like the right thing to do. If this is their last moment before stepping into the arena, shouldn’t they at least say goodbye in a friendly way?

But before they break the hug, Reese shatters the moment.

“Fu—?”

Rebecca watches him over Vanessa’s shoulder. He’s holding his forehead and tapping his foot.

“That wasn’t—” He stops himself. His gaze darts to his phone.

A second later, he tosses it onto the chair beside him. He stands and pulls Rebecca and Vanessa apart. They both give him a weirded-out look, but he doesn’t care. There’s something off about him—Rebecca notices it. His smile is too wide. His eyes, too focused.

“Hey, Rebecca. I have an idea for you.” His tone is as dissonant as his face. “How about I take your place instead?”

She blinks. “What?”

“What?” Vanessa echoes.

“Wouldn’t be free, though. You lost that privilege.”

Rebecca suddenly wants to cry.

“You’d have to pay me back, and I know just the way.” He follows the sentence with an obscene gesture of his hands. “You know, like old times?”

Vanessa stiffens. Contestant 24 lets out a quiet, amused breath. “What a jerk.”

Rebecca feels rage scorching through her veins. A slap-him-across-the-face kind of rage. A burn-the-whole-house-down kind of rage. A rage so big and blinding that she only realizes what she’s done after Reese’s face jerks to the side and her palm burns hot.

Why would he say something like that? He’d never treated her that way. Was it because of the video?

Vanessa and Contestant 24 both stare at Rebecca, mouths wide open in a frozen, startled laugh.

Before Rebecca’s anger warps into depression, she turns to Vanessa. “Let’s go,” she says.

“Let’s go,” Vanessa says back.

They both head for the door to the arena—Vanessa first, Rebecca following. She’s already stepping into the dusty corridor when two hands grab her by the waist and send her flying back into the common room. Rebecca lands on her side, her hip taking the full impact of the fall.

Reese slips through to the other side of the steel door. “Sorry. Gotta do this.” Behind him, Vanessa’s protests sound almost muted.

For a fraction of a second, Rebecca watches him, petrified—then she snaps out of it. “Reese, no!”

But the door is already closed, and Vanessa and Reese are gone. Rebecca watches them disappear while still lying on the floor.

She gets up slowly but doesn’t dare return to her original seat, so she chooses the one in the furthest corner. She doesn’t want to be alone in the same room as Contestant 24. He isn’t looking at her, but his smirk screams he’s far too aware of her presence.

Reese and Vanessa are dropped onto the arena floor. For a moment, Rebecca forgets where she is. One of them is going to die, and she doesn’t know what to hope for. No—even worse—she doesn’t know how to deal with her heart’s desire.

“I can’t watch.” Rebecca buries her head in her hands, but Reese’s voice still slices through the speakers.

“I don’t want to kill you painfully, so I’ll have to do it fast.”

Rebecca lifts her head. Curiosity gets the better of her.

Vanessa scoffs. “You don’t want to cause me pain?” She laughs bitterly. “We don’t need to be here for you to hurt me. You’ve done it so many times, and you didn’t even care. You hurt me when you slept with me for a week and then never spoke to me again. You hurt me when you sent my friends to their deaths on that rooftop. And you’re hurting me right now, talking to me like my defeat is inevitable. Why people love you is beyond me. You really are a monster.”

“Everything I’ve done, I did because I had to.”

“You didn’t have to fuck me!” Vanessa’s voice rises, shaking with rage.

“I told you from the start I had real feelings for Rebecca.”

“And that was a lie too!”

“It wasn’t a lie.” Reese stays calm.

Rebecca leans forward, suddenly on the edge of her seat.

“It was a misjudgment on my part.”

That’s it. Rebecca can’t take it anymore. Reese, Live, people dying—it’s making her sick. She stands abruptly.

“Where are you going?”

She stops. This is probably the first time Contestant 24 has ever asked her a question. Of all things, why would he ask her that?

And he really wants to know. She hasn’t said anything in a few seconds, yet he’s still staring at her. In the background, Vanessa is sharing something with the audience.

“Please, read my paper when it’s published,” she says, tears soaking her cheeks.

The common room darkens as the light from the corridor shrinks behind the shutting door. Rebecca retraces her steps.

“Are you seriously asking me for an explanation?”

Contestant 24 chuckles.

“I’m just surprised you don’t want to see this.”

Rebecca doesn’t respond, but her disbelief keeps her from looking away. And he stares back.

“...my work and partying...”

He’s lying. That much is obvious. But why? Why does he care where she goes? She wants to know. Desperately.

“...One thing we can safely affirm…”

She takes another step forward—not because she wants to be any closer to him, but because it gives her time. She places a hand on the back of the chair she was sitting on earlier and opens her mouth, but she still hasn’t decided what words to use. How to confirm her suspicions.

“...it lingers after death.”

“Do you think Vanessa can win?”

Contestant 24 snorts and shakes his head. “I doubt it.”

Rebecca doesn’t let it drop.

“And you?”

He whips his head toward her.

“What are you trying to say?” he asks. “You think your boyfriend’s gonna kill me, don’t you? Well…” The next part he says in a whisper, turning his head back to the screen, but she hears it. “Joke’s on him.”

“...depends on each individual, but yeah, we stay conscious for a while after we die.”

Rebecca smiles, and her cheeks hurt. It’s been so long since the last time she smiled, the tension in her cheekbones feels unnatural.

Index

I really enjoyed writing that last part ^^
I hope you enjoyed reading it <3
Thank you for reading and please share your thoughts in the comments!

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Index

#Log_063 – Flagged Data: Meaning Inconclusive

It’s the middle of the night, and Rebecca hasn’t been able to shut her eyes once. She lies on her back, rigid, arms wrapped around her chest, gaze fixed on the ceiling. Contestant 6 is dead. He can’t show up in her room anymore. Yet she’s convinced that if she closes her eyes, she’ll see him.

A soft knock on her door startles her. Reese?

“Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Vanessa says.

Just as relieved as she is disappointed, Rebecca sighs and says, “Come in.”

Vanessa opens the door and steps inside but stays by it, leaning against the frame. “Can I stay with you for a while? I don’t want to be alone. And I figured you must be feeling lonely too, being the only one in this whole corridor.”

Rebecca turns on the lamp and straightens her back against the wall. Her first instinct is to ask Vanessa whether Contestant 24 is busy, but she swallows the question. Would it be so terrible to let her stay? She can’t sleep either, and having someone there might distract her from the fear of Contestant 6’s ghost.

Besides, how could she turn Vanessa away when she’s been nothing but kind to her? Out of guilt? Out of fear of the audience? Maybe. Probably. But it doesn’t matter. She could be a jerk like Contestant 24, or she could’ve snapped like Contestant 6. Hell, she could mess with her head like Reese does. But she chooses to be kind. Rebecca likes that about her. Lena would’ve liked it too, if they’d gotten to know each other better.

“Yeah, it feels haunted,” Rebecca says. “Sure. Is there something you want to talk about?”

“Nothing specific,” Vanessa replies as she slips into Rebecca’s bed. “Scooch over.”

Rebecca, lips parted and eyes wide, does as she’s told. “What are you doing?”

“What? It’s cold,” Vanessa says, curling into a fetal position and pulling the covers up to her ears. “Come on, get comfortable. It’s your bed.”

After a second of utter shock, Rebecca accepts that it’s too late to stop Vanessa now and ends up mirroring her position.

“Can you believe…” Vanessa begins, “that Contestant 6 practically saved you with that story? I’m sure that’s why he was voted off.”

Rebecca nods, though her mind is somewhere else entirely.

“Can I ask you something? And don’t take it the wrong way.”

“Okay? I’m interested.”

“Why do you care if I live?” Rebecca asks. “I mean, yesterday you wanted to walk in here with me to protect me from Contestant 6. Wouldn’t you rather something happened to me?”

“I didn’t think it would be fair for you to die somewhere random.”

“Believe me, it won’t be random. It’ll be right here in this building.”

“You really are a pain sometimes.”

Rebecca doesn’t reply. In the silence, the tiny pointy legs of a spider drone clack against the floor, just outside her bedroom door.

Vanessa, seemingly unaware of it, exhales loudly and rolls her eyes. “Why do you have to turn everything into a serious conversation? Can’t we just pretend for a while that we don’t wish each other dead? Yes, Rebecca. I hope you get killed—but not all the time. I still think you’re an interesting woman, and I like spending time with you. Steve can be too much sometimes. And there’s no way in hell I’m wasting any more of my precious time on Reese.”

“But it makes it more difficult. Spending time, bonding, all of that.”

“It’s not our choice. We’re human. We’re social creatures. We survive in numbers.”

“Not here.”

“Even here.”

“I don’t see it.”

“The more people like you, the less you have to worry about dying.”

“That’s not bonding.”

“Maybe it’s a new way of bonding. Societal norms are constantly adapting to the reality we live in. Maybe now, bonding has to happen through technology. Maybe our real selves and our online personas are becoming one. Or better yet, maybe their importance is shifting.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll remain a loner, thank you very much.”

Vanessa chuckles.

“Do you see yourself outside this place?” she asks.

“No,” Rebecca says. “My life ended when I broke my ankle.”

“Are you for real?”

“I am. Just imagine dedicating your entire life to one thing—something you love, something that defines you—and then losing it.”

“Can’t you find something else?”

“I don’t want something else. I don’t even care that much about my career. It’s dancing itself. I don’t want to live in a body that can’t dance.”

“Can’t you dance something else?”

“Not without the fibers.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Rebecca shrugs. “Do you see yourself winning?”

“Winning? No.” She leans forward and whispers, “I see myself escaping.”

Rebecca blinks a couple of times. “What do you mean?”

Vanessa bites her lower lip. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to swear you’ll keep it a secret. And that you’ll be careful.”

The moment she says it out loud, it’ll stop being a secret, Rebecca thinks. But she doesn’t stop her from talking. Her curiosity is stronger than her desire for Vanessa to live.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“I may have found the way,” Vanessa says. “The plan is far from perfect. In fact, I’d call it more of a possibility than a plan, but…” Again, her voice drops to a mere breath. “At least, even if I don’t win, I won’t be dead. After that, everything’s uncertain. I guess I’ll have to improvise.”

“What do you mean, you won’t be dead?”

“I won’t be. They’ll only think so.”

Rebecca stays quiet, even as her mind spins. Is Vanessa talking about that “expensive thing” she once overheard? Did she really find a way to escape without winning? Jealousy burns in her chest. If the answer is yes, Vanessa could go on with her life after the show—with the fibers and all.

Rebecca pictures herself taking hold of whatever it is Vanessa’s hiding. She imagines it as some sort of poison that only lasts a few hours. She could fake her death and run away with the fibers still in her. She could have a quiet life, far from the city. Maybe open an academy. Maybe reunite with Reese, if he’s the winner.

In this perfect world, Reese is himself again. Not the monster-slash-legend who only shows up through songs and public declarations. He’s just the man who took dancing lessons because he was nervous about dancing with her. The man who takes care of her and makes her laugh.

No. That’s never going to happen. She could never steal this mysterious object from Vanessa, and Reese isn’t that man anymore. How could he be, when he explicitly said he wants her dead?

“Have you told anyone about this?”

“Just Steve.”

“Then it’s very likely the show’s producers already know.”

“I’m not stupid. We’ve been careful. It’s clear they hear everything we say.”

Rebecca’s chest tightens. Maybe Reese would’ve done better if he had chosen Vanessa instead of her.

“How did you manage to get it in here?”

“Let’s just say the pieces are so small and insignificant, only someone with advanced knowledge of robotics would be able to identify them.”

“Pieces?”

“Mhm. I assembled it here.”

Great. Not only was Vanessa part of a major research project on consciousness, she’s also trained in robotics? Reese definitely would’ve done better with her.

“That’s really impressive,” Rebecca says, trying to disguise her bitterness as enthusiasm—but it slips through.

After an hour of circling different topics, they fall asleep. Vanessa leaves very early in the morning, when Rebecca wakes up screaming, swearing she saw Contestant 6 lying in bed with her.

“Do you want to be alone?” Vanessa asks, her face pale.

“Yes.”

The next morning, the dining hall feels hollow. Whether Rebecca likes it or not, Contestant 6 had a presence—loud, brash, it filled the space. Now, not only is he gone, but there’s only one table in the center of the room.

Rebecca, Reese, Vanessa, and Contestant 24 sit around it, bowls half full, forks scraping the ceramic surface. No one speaks. No one has spoken since they arrived.

Reese sits across from Rebecca, stirring his food without eating. Last night, he came back with his knuckles open and bloodied—now they show no trace of the wounds. Vanessa sits beside him, tapping her fingers against the table, eyes fixed on a point beyond her plate. She hasn’t even acknowledged her food. She looks like she didn’t get any sleep after returning to her room. Contestant 24, the only one still with an appetite, eats like nothing’s happening.

They exchange glances every once in a while. When someone notices the other looking at them. Or when the neck starts to hurt. Glimpses. Between possible victims or perpetrators.

“This is fun,” Reese says unexpectedly, more inwardly than to anyone else, as he stands up to get some more juice.

Vanessa slides forward in her seat and angles her body toward Contestant 24.

“I can’t find it. I’ve looked everywhere,” she says in a hushed voice—low enough to keep Rebecca out of it. She doesn’t want her to hear. That much is obvious.

But she does anyway.

“Do you know anything?”

“I don’t,” Contestant 24 shrugs. “Maybe a drone took it.”

They shush each other the moment Reese returns, and the hall falls silent again. “A drone took it.” Rebecca almost can’t stop herself from laughing. Live wins again. A drone took it. Did they hear what they needed last night, while she was talking with Vanessa? Most likely. The only other possibility is that Contestant 24 had the same urge as Rebecca.

She looks at him. He definitely seems to be smiling too much.

Suddenly, all their phones vibrate at once. A notification.

Rebecca hesitates, then checks hers. The second she sees the thumbnail, her stomach twists. She doesn’t need to open the video to know what it is. She already feels exposed and embarrassed.

Still, her fingers move on their own. She plays it.

It’s an extremely realistic deepfake. AI-generated, obviously, though not easy to tell. Rebecca and Vanessa are in it. Rebecca with her back against a wall, Vanessa standing too close, whispering something in her ear, tucking her hair behind it—then a kiss. A shy one that quickly turns heated, intimate. Fake or not, it still feels like a violation.

Rebecca locks the screen and shoves her phone across the table, as if it were contagious. It stops on Reese’s lap.

Index

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Index

#Log_062 – Copyrights Pending

I’m next.

Raindrops jolt Rebecca up. She forgot to close the window.

I’m next.

She takes a moment to breathe. Just breathe. Let her heart settle.

She had a dream. A slice of it flashes before her eyes as she reaches for her cellphone. Reese was in it—he was hugging her. Her heart races again, and it gets worse when she sees a notification from him.

Well, from Contestant 13.

A new song.

“I shouldn’t do this,” she whispers, clicking on it anyway. Even though the title—“You’ll Love Me Again”—almost makes her back out.

The song barely lasts 58 seconds. It features Reese on the rooftop with his guitar. The red, shiny dot on his forehead adds a touch.

A bitter chuckle slips through Rebecca’s lips. It vanishes as soon as the song comes on.

It turns out I’m a monster.
Killer, psycho, corporate prop-star.
Turns out you all talk about me.
All day, all night—can’t shut it.

And the attention’s good and all,
But one of these evenings,
When all of them are dead,
You’ll cheer my name.

I’ll be watching y’all from hell.
You’ll love me again.
I’ll be watching y’all from hell.
You’ll love me when it happens.

By the end of the reel, Rebecca doesn’t even know what to think. She was expecting at least some of it to be about her. And a couple of lines came off as outright worrying.

She lets out another chuckle, one that might just as well be an excess of air. It would be almost funny to die the same day she finally sees the truth. Because it’s clear now. ‘When all of them are dead’, she’s ‘one of them.’ To him, she’s already dead.

And today’s her turn.

After a full minute with her head in her hands—exactly a minute, because Reese’s song played all the way through and was starting again—she finally gets out of bed. She feels ridiculous in the bathroom, trying to style her hair the best way possible. As if looking less like a cadaver could make Reese love her back.

“It was my decision,” she reminds herself. She wanted him to win. She still does. “And he’ll choose right.” That’s not a reminder but a leak in her faith in him.

“Just remember what I’ve been asking you all this time, will ya? You will have to do that, yeah?”

Vanessa and Contestant 24 are already at the dining hall when she gets there. Contestant 6 isn’t there. Neither is Reese. Vanessa looks at her with a weird expression—brows furrowed, lips pouting, nose wrinkled. She must know it too. They’ll pick her tonight.

“Are you okay?” she asks Rebecca, even before pulling the chair away from the table.

“Are you?”

“Did you watch it?”

“Yes. I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

They have an exceptionally quiet breakfast that morning.

Rebecca avoids looking at her phone all day. Until Vanessa approaches her after training and insists on the topic. She practically corners her in the training room, demanding to know what she’s going to do about the video.

“What can I do about it?”

“How can you be so okay with it?”

Rebecca scoffs. At the end of the corridor, near the first booth, a spider drone watches them. She hadn’t noticed it when she got there.

“I’m not okay with it. You have no idea how much it hurts.”

She sighs. It’s just the two of them in there. Maybe letting some of it out isn’t such a bad idea.

“I think I’m not completely over him.”

Vanessa narrows her eyes and gives Rebecca a sideways look. Rebecca tries to explain.

“I had a dream about him last night.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes and takes a deep breath, but as she hears Rebecca’s next words, her entire face contorts in horror.

“In my dream, Reese was there with me. In my bed. And he was touching my hair.”

“Oh my god, no.”

Vanessa’s reaction seems so out of place to Rebecca, that she decides to stop talking. Even when she grabs her arms and gives her the same you’re dying tonight look that she gave her during breakfast.

“You haven’t seen it.”

“Seen what?”

Vanessa lets go of her arms and searches for her phone. She scrolls through a couple of videos and hands it to Rebecca. It’s a story—Contestant 6’s.

It’s dark in it. Contestant 6 is lying in bed, his camera pointing at him from a high angle. His voice is throaty and whispered, and at times it gets lost under the sound of curtains thrashing in the wind.

“Tommy is the one that makes the decisions. I’m the one that follows him. ‘Do it, Chuck, it’s for our own good.’ But I don’t know what to do sometimes, because he doesn’t always show up.” He rubs his nose. “I wish I was like Contestant 13. He’s better at making decisions than Tommy.” He chuckles, and the camera pans to his free hand, running his fingers through someone’s hair.

A woman.

Rebecca’s breath catches in her throat.

The woman in the video stirs, and Contestant 6 puts a finger to his lips. “Shh. Don’t wake up.” He looks at the camera. “Look, I’m like him. I’m like Contestant 13.”

The video ends there, and Rebecca feels like she’s going to collapse. She leans against the wall of the booth. “Oh my God.”

“You’re okay, right? He didn’t do anything to you?”

“No, he didn’t.”

It doesn’t make it any less horrible. Rebecca decides to keep that thought to herself. She doesn’t know what’s worse: what he did, or the fact that she’s just as obsessed with Reese as Contestant 6.

“Do you want me to walk you to your room?”

Reese flashback. Rebecca lifts her head abruptly.

“No,” she says, quickly. “Are you training?”

“I already did.”

“I want to stay a little longer.”

“Are you sure?”

That I don’t want to run into anyone in the house? Yes, I’m sure.

“Yes.”

Vanessa purses her lips.

“Okay. But text me if you need anything.”

Rebecca takes a moment, before she can articulate something.

“Sure.”

She stays for another hour, but she doesn’t train this time. She needs to do the only thing that will make her forget. About Reese, about Contestant 6, even about herself.

So, she dances.

And for a moment, she’s nothing but matter—a body reliving the steps of a choreography learned by heart. A system of muscles, bones, and lungs, perfectly coordinated to achieve a posture or a movement.

Hunger makes her finally stop. Her stomach has been growling for minutes. She turns the music off and leaves the booth. The drone is still there, fixed like a statue. Rebecca’s glad to leave it behind.

On her way to take a quick shower and grab a new set of clothes, her second-biggest fear materializes. Contestant 6 lurks out of his room just as Rebecca steps into the C-shaped corridor.

She stops. So does he—hiding half his body behind the doorframe. He’s giggling.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt you,” he says between giggles.

Rebecca resumes her walk, though now she edges along the opposite wall. She’s already one door away when Contestant 6 shouts:

“Can I visit you tonight?”

Rebecca stops and turns, fist clenched, breath quickened.

“What do you want from me? Your brother’s dead. It wasn’t my decision. There’s nothing I can do to bring him back. Just leave me alone.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my brother,” he says, glaring at Rebecca. Then he laughs. “I’m just joking. Like that rotten piece of junk deserved any respect.”

Rebecca frowns.

“It’s just that…” Contestant 6 continues. “I don’t want to be alone. And I figured you didn’t want to, either. So I was thinking… maybe you could let me hug you at night? You know? Play pretend? I can close my eyes and picture myself as him. And you can close your eyes too—and think I’m him.”

Rebecca gasps and takes a step back. There are so many things she wants to say to him—“You’re disgusting,” or “If I see you in my room tonight, I’ll kill you.” Instead, she says something that surprises even herself.

“Why do you want to be like him?”

He grins.

“You don’t say his name either? Does it hurt you too?”

“Why does it hurt you?”

“Because he’s crazier than I am. He should accept me. He accepts you. He likes you. And you’re almost as mad as me.”

“I’m not mad.”

Another wide grin.

“You say Contestant 13’s name in your sleep.”

Rebecca freezes. She doesn’t know what to say. Contestant 6 continues.

“You say Contestant 13’s name in your sleep,” he repeats.

He’s probably lying, Rebecca concludes as she turns her back to Contestant 6 and walks away. She’s never talked in her sleep. Not once. He must be saying that to win the argument. Maybe the window of sanity only opens for so long. The fact that she had a dream about Reese is purely a coincidence.

She just hopes he doesn’t spread the rumor.

As always, at nine p.m. sharp, the five remaining contestants sit in front of the holographic screen. The knot in Rebecca’s stomach is so nauseating she has to hold her torso with both arms to ease the discomfort. She stares at her feet—she can’t look at the screen. She doesn’t want to see Reese’s face either.

The hosts say their greetings. The screen goes black. She catches it in her peripheral vision. Then Vanessa, next to her, sighs and sinks into her chair.

Rebecca finally looks up.

6 - 13

When his number appears next to Reese’s on the screen, he rubs his hands together, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Yes! He’s finally seeing me. He’s finally talking to me.”

Reese stands up in silence. Rebecca dares a glance at him. He’s awfully quiet, but as he walks to the steel door, he never takes his eyes off Contestant 6.

This time, she watches the battle closely. Her fingers clench together, her heart pounds, and she whispers a quiet, desperate prayer—for Reese to survive.

Contestant 6 is sent to the left, Reese to the right. Contestant 6 laughs hysterically as he gets ready for the attack, his body tense and twitchy. But he doesn’t move—only bounces slightly, like a character in a video game. The cameras catch him for just a second before cutting to Reese.

Reese wears an innocent expression, tilting his head as if he doesn’t understand what’s about to happen. Then, slowly and dramatically, he raises his hand and flashes a peace sign at Contestant 6—only to rotate his wrist and drop the index finger.

Next, he pulls something from his pocket. A piece of cloth. Rebecca squints, unsure of his intention. But she doesn’t have to wonder for long. It’s not just a piece of cloth—it’s a mask. The kind doctors wear in hospitals. He slides it over his nose and mouth, his smirk still visible in his eyes.

She notices just then that in the last three fights, he hasn’t used his healing ability at all. Probably just because he hasn’t needed to. But it almost looks like a small protest against Drugobrand and the show itself.

That’s my man, Rebecca thinks, chest swelling with pride—only for the thought to turn bitter. No. He’s not.

Livid, Contestant 6 lunges at Reese, arms swinging, head bouncing around uncontrollably. He’s draining his energy too fast, running like he’s being chased by the devil. “I’ll be the one who kills 13! I’ll be the one who kills 13!”

Reese dodges, counters, pins him to the ground and never lets go. He doesn’t just win, he turns Contestant 6’s face into ground meat. Every punch he throws, every cry that comes with it, is propelled by his rage—at him, at the show, at himself, maybe even at Rebecca. He’s letting it all out after days of restraint. The pain twists his face.

And it hurts her, too.

When he returns, no one greets him with words of support. No one says anything at all. They just go to bed, as if they’ve finished a dull, routine task.

Index

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Index

#Log_061 – Targeting Patterns Detected

Six episodes remain until the grand finale. On the sixth day of the countdown, the supporters of the twenty-one contestants who jumped off the roof—along with Vanessa’s, Contestant 24’s, and even Rebecca’s growing faction—begin strategizing to send Reese into every remaining fight. They talk about it in the comment sections of nearly every post.

Reese’s fans are louder than ever, but their numbers are dwindling. The ones who stick around defend him with a kind of tired loyalty. “You think sending Reese to the arena is punishment? He wants it. He won’t even ask for our protection. My guess is he wants her in the finale.”

At nine o’clock, the six of them sit in front of the big screen. There are fewer chairs tonight, yet the groups remain separate. Contestant 2 runs a hand through his hair every few seconds and keeps glancing at the other group. He’s probably wondering if he picked the losing side.

Except there are no losing sides—only a single winner. Maybe Contestant 2 isn’t afraid of being picked. Maybe he’s afraid of facing Reese in battle now that they’re close. Rebecca certainly is terrified of that very thing.

Contestant 45 isn’t crying at the moment, but it’s obvious from her makeup that she was. Rebecca doesn’t understand why she keeps using so much black eyeliner if she’s constantly crying. But when she looks at her more closely, she starts to notice a certain kind of beauty in the way those black lines and smudges decorate her face. They give her a dark fairy look.

Their distress is justified. Rebecca feels it too, despite being in the “safe group.” Another thing Reese’s opponents are planning is pitting him against his own allies. That’s why tonight, while sitting in the common room waiting for the hosts to announce the two contestants’ numbers, Rebecca feels like she’s going to be sick.

But it’s the number forty-five that comes up next to Reese’s.

Contestant 45 cries out loud and hugs her knees to her chest, shaking her head violently.

“No, please, no. I’m not ready.”

Rebecca watches, horrified. She probably would’ve had a similar reaction if she’d been chosen.

Reese rubs a hand across his face repeatedly before finally getting to his feet. Then he extends it to Contestant 45. She looks up at him with glassy eyes.

“Come on,” he says. “I promise it won’t hurt.”

She obeys immediately. The crying stops all at once. One moment she’s leaking from every hole in her face, the next her expression goes blank, like the AI nurse when she’s off. Her movements turn slow, mechanical. She walks because she’s told to, not because she knows what she’s doing.

She doesn’t seem to snap out of her trance until she’s standing in the arena and the audience is chanting for her death. Nothing personal. They chant for Reese’s all the same.

Despite possessing a formidable ability—Sound Wave Shielding—Contestant 45’s single attempt at an attack proves useless. At first, she manages to create a dizzying effect by silencing certain areas and amplifying others. Reese looks to both sides and covers his ears, visibly uncomfortable.

“That… cool,” he says. His words come and go. He speaks louder than necessary, probably struggling to adjust the volume of his voice. “Too bad… never told… this… your ability.”

Contestant 45 drops her posture, and the sound returns to normal.

“You never asked,” she says. “I would’ve told you. You know I would’ve done anything for you.”

“Hey,” Reese says after a moment, opening his arms, inviting her into a hug. “Why don’t you come here?”

She sees what he’s doing but doesn’t move from her spot. Reese lowers his arms.

Contestant 45 inhales a cry. “You want to kill me? You never let me touch you. Why do you want to hug me all of a sudden? You’re going to kill me.”

All she gets in response is Reese’s long sigh.

“At least tell me I was close to getting your heart. Tell me you felt something.”

Neither Reese nor Contestant 45 have a chance to say anything else because someone from the front row throws their soda, including the cup and straw, at Contestant 45’s face. “Shut up and fight!”

She gasps and freezes while the beverage drips from her eyelashes and nose.

Reese clenches his jaw as he walks toward Contestant 45, his eyes locked on the owner of the soda. Once by her side, he pulls her into a hug. She, sticky and wet, hides her face in his chest and cries. He lets her—for a while. Rebecca watches with a knot in her throat that makes her face throb.

In a sudden movement, he flips Contestant 45, her back landing against his chest. He hooks his bicep and upper arm around her neck, tight. She fights for release immediately, and the cheers and shouting in the arena fracture into chaotic patterns. Even the speakers in the common room carry that disorienting distortion.

But Reese doesn’t let her go, and as her struggles grow softer, so does the dissonance around them. Before she gives up completely, Reese’s voice comes out as if from afar—but his words are clear.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to kill you, I have to.”

When he finally lets go, she drops to the floor like a heavy rag doll.

Before the drones tie him up again, Reese pays his respects to Contestant 45 by punching the guy who threw his soda at her, right in the face. The drones don’t just bind his ankles and wrists; they pull his hands behind his back and gag him too.

Unnecessary, Rebecca thinks, relieved despite herself that he’s being brought back.

The next day, everything repeats in exactly the same way. The tracking of the viewers’ behavior throughout the day. Rebecca’s all-consuming fear before the battle. Reese’s number on the screen. The relief that washes over her when Contestant 2’s number is called instead of hers.

“Let’s see how he comes back from this,” Contestant 24 murmurs, as both Reese and Contestant 2 step through the door to the arena.

The fibers grant Contestant 2 super strength—an overwhelming skill. Unlike the previous battle, Reese’s concentration looks sharp tonight. He positions himself near the end of the arena floor, with the wall beneath the stands at his back. Then, he stands still.

Contestant 2 doesn’t react immediately either, but seeing that Reese has no intention of moving, he ends up charging at him. Torso low. Head first. He’s going for a tackle.

At the last second—right as his head is about to slam into Reese’s stomach—Reese jumps aside, and Contestant 2’s head crashes into the wall beneath the stands. His strength is such that every bone in his neck and spine shatters instantly. The fight is over in less than five minutes.

By the time Reese returns to the common room, victorious for the second time in a row, he has no one left.

Index

I love the way Reese wins against Contestant 2 XD
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Index

#Log_060 – Audience Compliance Decline

Reese isn’t the only one who posted a video. It’s obvious to Rebecca why—there are only seven contestants left now. Viewer approval is more important than ever.

She watches all of them and notices they all begin the same way: “I didn’t know about the jump.” “I had nothing to do with it.” “Reese doesn’t share his plans.” Contestant 22 and Vanessa’s speeches are almost identical. They ask the audience to open their eyes and see Reese for what he is. A man who can’t return to society.

The others, however, defend him. Contestant 2, for example, says he’s grateful for what Reese did. That no one truly understands how horrible it is to be here. That, for better or worse, speeding things up makes it easier to breathe.

Contestant 45 admits she knew about the jump, but says she never expected anything dangerous to happen. She agrees with Reese. It wasn’t him who did the killing. And all those people would’ve died eventually, anyway.

Only Contestant 6 and Rebecca haven’t posted anything.

The divide becomes even clearer when Rebecca arrives at the dining hall for breakfast. Only two tables are occupied: one with Vanessa, Contestant 6, and Contestant 24; the other with Reese, Contestant 2, and Contestant 45.

As soon as Rebecca crosses the threshold, all of them turn to her, even Reese. His eyes, ever so dark they appear black, seem even darker today—if that’s possible. Rebecca walks past his table and joins the other group. She takes the seat next to Contestant 6, who shrinks for a second, then looks at her over his hunched shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re sitting with us,” Vanessa says. “We’ve decided we’re not letting him take the leadership role. You need to stick with us so we outnumber them.”

“He’s the leader, now?” Rebecca breathes out a chuckle.

“Yes, he is,” Contestant 6 says, in a deep voice that sounds nothing like himself. “He sacrificed the pawns. Now there are only important pieces left on the board.”

Rebecca, Vanessa, and Contestant 24 barely have time to exchange a look when Contestant 6 bursts out laughing. “Tommy!” he shouts, patting his right leg. “He’s so funny.”

Vanessa opens her mouth to speak, but Contestant 6 is quicker, any trace of laughter gone.

“I don’t trust this bitch, y’all.” He points at Rebecca. “She’ll probably run straight to her murderer boyfriend and tell him everything. It’s what I’d do. But he won’t listen to me. Actually, he won’t let me close.”

Rebecca can’t hide her disgust as she looks at Contestant 6. She doesn’t even try to defend herself; she doubts Reese will listen to her either.

“She isn’t Reese’s girlfriend anymore,” Vanessa interjects. Her cracked voice leaves no doubt she regrets engaging with Contestant 6.

But it’s Rebecca who responds.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“I’m sorry, but we might have to,” Contestant 24 says. “In case you two suddenly feel like leaving the show tomorrow and decide to kill us all tonight.”

Rebecca can’t help but glare at Contestant 24. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

Contestant 24 smiles at her like he’s looking at a six-year-old mispronouncing a word. “Everybody can tell you’re still hung up on him.”

“Steve, you don’t know if that’s true,” Vanessa jumps in. “In fact, I don’t think so. I’ve been watching—she seems to have opened her eyes.”

Rebecca’s throat tightens. “I said I don’t feel like talking about it. Maybe tomorrow, if there is one.”

“Snap,” Contestant 6 says.

An awkward silence follows. Rebecca forces her attention on her food. Today’s meal is tasteless and glumpy, like they barely stirred it. After the first bite, which she almost fails to swallow, she pushes the tray aside.

“Did you just threaten us?” Contestant 24 asks, all of a sudden.

Rebecca lifts her head. “I wanted you to shut up for a second, and it worked.”

Contestant 24 chuckles. “You’re such a spoiled brat.”

“Amen,” Contestant 6 shouts, shaking a hand.

“No.” Vanessa slams her fist against the table. “This is so stupid. Steve, she chose to sit with us. And Reese doesn’t need her anymore.” She turns to Rebecca. “Did you see the video? He admitted it. He wants to win.”

After Rebecca gives her nothing but silence, Vanessa lifts her hands and closes her eyes. “I’m sorry, I forgot. You don’t want to talk about it. Girl, still, you gotta talk to the audience. We’ve all come clean about what happened yesterday. You should too. You have no idea how suspicious it looks that you haven’t.”

Rebecca sighs. Vanessa is right. Just thinking about it makes her stomach churn.

Later that day, Rebecca sits in front of her phone, camera open. She doesn’t know what to say at first. Words seem to have abandoned her, and the ones that come to mind feel strange and forced. She tells herself she has to do this. That she doesn’t have a choice. The sooner, the better.

She presses the record button. And begins.

Her words are sloppy, barely conveying what she really wants to say. After ten whole minutes of poorly emptying her mind into the video, she stops it and presses delete. She’s letting fear get the best of her—not fear of recording a video; she hates it, but she’s used to it. It’s the fear of being voted off tonight or tomorrow.

The bottom line, she realizes after turning off the camera and locking the screen, is that they’ll do what they want, whether she posts a video or not. She doesn’t want to give them explanations. Why should she? The only connection between her and them is that they hold her fate in their hands.

Yet, she doesn’t want to come off as a coward. She has nothing to hide.

She starts the camera again and points it at herself. In the background, the curtains flutter in the wind through the open window.

“I bet this is as weird for you as it is for me. All I want to say is, I didn’t know they were jumping. I’m no longer part of Reese’s plans.” She sighs and her gaze drops to the floor. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t recognize him anymore. I want to believe he still has a say in who he becomes. And I do.” She shakes her head and looks back at the camera. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I don’t even know if telling you this will make a difference, but it felt like the right thing to do. So that’s what this is. I’m not his accomplice. We’re on our own now.”

An hour later, Rebecca expects her phone to explode with notifications. But her post gets an underwhelming number of views.

Reese’s, in contrast, goes viral. Everyone is talking about him and Drugobrand. They demand answers—about the show possibly being rigged in Reese’s favor, and about it feeling like a two-month-long commercial for a pharmaceutical company. They threaten to investigate further if Drugobrand or the show don’t respond. Some bring up past seasons and the possibility that contestants were experimented on during the early stages of the fibers. Things don’t look good.

That’s why Rebecca can’t help but smile when she imagines how things must be going for Anya right now.

The producers do respond—and they do it fast—through a story posted by the hosts. They claim they don’t know anything about Drugobrand and Reese being associated.

“Sounds to me like Contestant 13 is starting to lose his grip on reality,” says the male host with half a smile.

“I’d say he seems desperate to hold onto some kind of superior status,” the female host responds. “Or he just wants to stir things up, you know? Like he’s used to.”

The audience is now divided on Reese. His fanbase stays loyal and is beginning to turn against the show itself. But others—the ones who feel defrauded by how he got into the show—are united in their belief that Reese is dangerous, a sellout, and doesn’t deserve a second chance. That he doesn’t deserve to win.

Yet all of them claim to be moved by Rebecca’s honesty in her post. To them, she’s the poor, rejected lover who gave away her heart and now doesn’t know what to do with it.

Which, in a way, isn’t completely a lie.

Index

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Index

#Log_059 – Public Confession

“Welcome back, Contestants 2, 6, 10, 13, 22, 24, 42, and 45.”

The speakers detonate as soon as the spider drones shove them into the common room. Rebecca knows it’s not a real person speaking—just the usual artificial voice—but something about it feels off. The tone keeps its typical cheerful cadence, yet she could swear there’s an edge of irritation in it.

“Congratulations. You are the final eight contestants of the show. Unfortunately, your actions have deprived the viewers of twenty-one days of Live and twenty-one arena battles. As a result, additional security measures will be enforced. In the meantime, you are expected to remain in the common room. Please don’t waste your time resisting.”

Eight spider drones force each of them to kneel on the floor. Up on the rooftop, they had subdued them in seconds, right after Contestant 1’s phone died. Lining them up now takes no effort. They position Contestants 2, 6, 10, and 13 on one side, and contestants 22, 24, 42, and 45 opposite them.

Then, the search begins. The drone dealing with Rebecca uses two of its long, pointed legs to restrain her hands above her head, while the others skim over her body. Its little pokes both tickle and humiliate her.

She glances at Reese. Two drones are on him—one holding him back, the other searching. From one of its legs, a tiny black metallic wave extends and slides into Reese’s pocket. When it comes back out, it’s carrying Contestant 1’s cellphone. The drone sets the device on the floor, then fires a laser. The phone splits in two, destroyed beyond repair.

That’s it, Rebecca thinks. There goes our only chance to escape.

Soon, the voice over the speakers continues. “Now, collect your phones and please take a seat. Tonight’s episode is about to begin.”

Their phones are no longer in the box—they’re aligned in a perfect circle on the coffee table by the front row of chairs. The phones that belonged to the contestants who didn’t come back are gone. Of course Live won’t make the same mistakes twice.

The holographic screen pops on. The transmission begins with a close-up of the male host’s face. His expression is pure fury. Maybe Rebecca imagined it in the voice over the speakers earlier, but there’s no doubt he’s livid.

“I apologize for not greeting you with my usual bright smile,” he says. “That’s because I’m disappointed.”

The audience murmurs in agreement.

“So, let’s proceed with tonight’s selection.”

“That’s a great idea,” the female host adds. “Tonight, more than ever, we are reminded of why these people are here.”

“Exactly. We spend so much time watching them, discussing them, even rooting for them that we forget what they truly are: criminals.”

“Heartless.”

“So, let’s see the numbers.”

The screen turns black before two numbers appear: 17 and 29. Rebecca and the others glance at each other. Neither 17 nor 29 is here anymore. The producers are well aware of that. The numbers quickly change—most likely selecting the next contestants with the highest number of dislikes and the lowest number of support votes.

Again, the chosen numbers aren’t present. The cycle repeats, numbers shifting rapidly, until finally, one remains: 6.

Rebecca’s heart pounds. There are so few of them left. The odds feel inevitable.

Then the screen changes again. A new number appears: 10.

Rebecca almost falls from her chair. It’s not her. She can’t believe it. When did people stop hating me? It doesn’t matter. The relief is overwhelming. She feels like crying. Of course she doesn’t.

She doesn’t stay to watch the fight either. She’s seen too much death already. At the door, a spider drone stands guard, but it lets her through. There are more in the corridors, and she bets there are some in the dining hall as well. The spider drones used to be hidden—who knows where—but it seems they’ll have to get used to their overt presence from now on.

Rebecca goes to her room and lies down on her bed, scrolling through the music app. She chooses a rather slow song. Maybe it’ll help stop the trembling in her hands. Before getting up, she closes her eyes for a second to gain strength. But that second turns into five hours.

The music’s still playing when she wakes up disoriented in the middle of the night. She never got under the covers, and she’s still holding her phone. The rest of the house is oddly quiet.

She sits on the edge, hands gripping the sheet covering the mattress. She feels awful—tired, dizzy, sad. Why is she sad? It takes her a moment to remember. When she does, she runs out of breath.

Reese.

She spits question after question in her mind, and as she tries to find answers, all she can think of is him. His empty eyes as he watched the bodies, his silence, his face blurred by a darkness she’s not sure he’ll ever leave behind. He left her alone. That’s how it feels.

Despite the cold, Rebecca stands and leaves her room. She heads for the training room but walks past it when she notices the lights in the common room are on. She doesn’t know who she’ll find there. She’s both terrified and hopeful it’s him.

Rebecca opens the door as quietly as the hinges allow her to. She finds Reese sitting on one of the chairs, his back to the door, head hanging heavy over his chest. In his hand rest the two pieces left of Contestant 1’s phone.

I shouldn’t be here. Slowly, Rebecca turns around and steps back into the hallway. A scraping noise on the floor paralyzes her.

“Rebecca.”

She stops. Before deciding whether to step in or out of the common room, she takes a deep breath, trying to control the frantic rhythm of her heart. Finally, she steps inside.

Reese stands and lifts a hand, showing her what’s left of the phone. “They found it. Those damn robotic ticks.”

Rebecca’s eyes drift to the cameras. Those are the good ones, with the good microphones. At least, that’s what Reese had her believe from the start. Is he starting to mix up his own lies?

He continues, “Well, there we go again, right? Back to square one. Uncommunicated.” He scoffs. “Like it matters, anyway. I’m sure you’d choose dying over escaping with me without half a thought.”

Rebecca doesn’t know how to respond. She can’t believe what she’s hearing. Escaping with him? Was that option on the table again? Since when?

“Just remember what I’ve been asking you all this time, will ya? You will have to do that, yeah?”

She stares into his eyes, though it hurts as much as looking directly into the spider drones’ blinding lights. Maybe that’s where she’ll find answers, ones that will make her feel better or worse. Not knowing is simply unbearable.

After a moment, she sees what’s hiding behind all the masks he’s wearing, old and new. It’s pain. She feels the sudden urge to grab his hand.

Don’t you dare.

Her fingers twitch at her sides. She wants to snap at Reese, shake him, make him tell her the truth. But what if she already knows it? What if she’s just too much of a coward to face it? The worst part isn’t wondering whether Reese always wanted them to die. The worst part is wondering if, deep down, she could excuse him. Fewer battles to fight. Fewer people to kill. The ones who jumped, at least, didn’t suffer. And Reese takes all the blame.

Seeing him in pain makes her wonder if he didn’t do this out of coldness, but as an act of sacrifice.

No. Stop. That’s not what this is. You don’t get to call it sacrifice just because it hurts.

She inhales. “This version of you scares me, Reese. It does. But I’ve seen other versions of you that I don’t like, and none is as strong as the real you.” He lifts his eyebrows in surprise. “You did something horrible tonight. I can only imagine how fractured you feel. But I also believe you can leave all of this behind—when you win.” Rebecca pauses. Reese’s gaze drops to his feet. “You don’t have to take it with you, okay? Outside, be the man who makes me proud. The one that made me feel safe.”

Their eyes meet, and Rebecca wells up because she doesn’t know what his gestures mean. A moment later, Reese glances at the camera closest to them. He shakes his head, as if fighting something off.

“Can I do something for you?”

Rebecca frowns.

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

“I don’t think so.”

A moment of silence.

“Can I walk you to your room?”

“No,” Rebecca says. That’s a risk she doesn’t need right now. “Are you okay?”

Reese doesn’t respond immediately, but ends up nodding his head. “One more week, yeah?”

Rebecca locks in place.

The next morning, she wakes up early to a video of Reese. He doesn’t look injured like he did last night. Now he looks composed, slightly detached. Sad too. But Rebecca can’t tell if he’s pretending to be hurt, or if he’s truly hurt and pretending to be fine.

“How are you, my beautiful lot?” he begins. “I’m sure you’ve heard all kinds of things by now and are expecting me to say something about it, so here it is. Well, this is mostly for my lovely, lovely fans. You know you mean the world to me, and I honestly believe I owe you, you bunch of crazy suckers, a decent explanation.” He smiles at the camera and clears his throat. “But I guess this goes to anyone that’s curious, actually. Yes, I wanted to shoot a video. That part is true. But I also hinted that something could happen to us if we did. That’s why I didn’t jump. It was a hunch that was bugging me from the start. And you know what? A part of me wanted to test Live and see how far they’re willing to go. Now I know—they’ll go far. They’ll go to the goddamn extremes.” He chuckles. “I bet they’ll play it like I’m the bad guy. They’ll get on board that asshole’s boat—Contestant 24—and say I was responsible for their deaths. But hey, I didn’t pull the trigger. That was Live.”

Rebecca pauses the video and stares at the frozen screen for a while. She’s scared to find out what else Reese has to say, and she’s only halfway through it. She lifts her finger from the screen, and Reese’s speech continues.

“I get why they don’t like it. They want us to die; they just don’t want to be the ones doing the killing. That part’s for us. We’re already criminals, after all. But yesterday they crossed that line, and now they want to make it look like it was me.” He scoffs. “There’s a little problem, though. How’s Drugobrand going to like it when the face of his product turns into the show’s monster?”

“Reese, what are you doing?” Rebecca mumbles under her breath.

Reese shrugs. “What do I care, anyway? They’ll probably find a way to get away with everything, like they always do. I’ll take the loss, fine. I’ll admit the show’s bigger than me, stronger than me. But I’m still here, ain’t I? And I’ll go back to aiming to win. I know I can do it, and I won’t stop till that victory’s mine.”

A pause. His expression darkens.

“Right, I know I fucked up. I deserve your downvotes, don’t I? So, if you lot wanna chuck me in the arena tonight, go on. Fair play. That’s the price, yeah? I’ll take it. That won’t stop me.”

The video ends there. Rebecca checks the comments and almost chokes on a breath. Everyone is wondering what he meant by being ‘the face of Drugobrand.’ Some people in the audience have already begun speculating—and they’re not far from the truth.

Index

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Index

#Log_058 – Unit Metrics Recalibrated

The following afternoon, a few hours before the episode starts, all twenty-nine remaining contestants are packed into the common room. This time, it’s under Reese’s calling. He stands at the front, the projection wall behind him, turning a small box over in his hands.

“Alright, first things first,” he says, raising his voice. “Drop your phones in here.”

He lifts the box. The complaints come immediately, but Reese’s voice drowns them out.

“No leaks, no spoilers. I’m sorry, but no phones.” He grins. “I know how tempting it is to post something, but trust me—this is gonna be huge. We don’t want to ruin the surprise, do we?”

One by one, the contestants hesitate—then comply. Even Rebecca. She doesn’t say anything when Reese holds the box out to her. She can’t. Not with his eyes nailed to her. She just takes her phone out of her pocket and drops it into the box. During all that time, he never breaks eye contact. He doesn’t even blink once. Then he moves on to the next person.

With a longing that physically hurts her, she just watches. The way he works them. The way they fall into his rhythm, like it’s the natural thing to do. Phones rattle inside the box. Reese thanks each of them, satisfied.

“Perfect.” He returns to his original position, opposite the group, and hands the box to Contestant 14. “Okay, let’s shoot the first scene. Let’s start with a big one.”

“What is it?” someone asks. Rebecca doesn’t recognize the voice.

Reese ignores the question. He doesn’t respond with an ambiguous remark or a disarming smile, and the common room is too silent for anyone to have missed it. Maybe he’s just entertained passing instructions to Contestant 14—but that doesn’t seem to be the reason either. More like an excuse. Rebecca’s eyes narrow. It isn’t like him to avoid a confrontation, a question, or anything, really.

“She asked you something.” That voice, Rebecca identifies it instantly. Contestant 24. “What is it?”

“Patience is a virtue. Did you know that?”

Rebecca chuckles under her breath. She’s relieved she can still predict his ways. She still knows him. She’s still the closest person to him.

Her gaze falls instinctively on Contestant 45, who’s smirking at Contestant 24 like she holds information no one else does. What if she does? Are Reese and her sharing secrets now? Like they used to? It’s not important, Rebecca tells herself, he’s made his choice. The only problem is, it still hurts.

She looks at the door. Maybe she shouldn’t be there. She shouldn’t be part of whatever it is that Reese is doing, she should be dancing. Especially when she’s one of the extras in his little project, not his equal, and she hates it. She should let what’s left of her life shrink to dancing. She’d die happy.

But she can’t go. Not because she isn’t a complete fool who wants to keep an eye on Contestant 45—that too—but because she needs to see whatever it is Reese is doing all the way through. She’s convinced this video of his isn’t something she’ll want to miss.

“Ready, folks? Please, do follow me.”

At first, nobody moves. They only pivot on their heels, tracking his steps. Reese pushes through the crowd, heading for the common room door. As he passes next to Rebecca, he grabs her hand—a quick squeeze that makes her heart skip a beat. Then he lets go. The gesture is subtle, almost hidden, but she understands: stick by him, follow his lead.

Slowly and hesitantly, the crowd starts moving. Reese leads them through the kitchen and into the emergency stairs. Then up. He’s taking them to the roof.

“Where are we going?” someone asks. Another unfamiliar voice.

“You’ll see.”

For a moment, the only sound in the emergency stairs is the thud of their footsteps, and the occasional giggle behind Rebecca’s ear. Once they reach the end, Reese pushes the door open, and the rooftop stretches out before them. The same place where Reese asked her to trust him for the first time. Only now, lined along the edges, spider drones stand in a silent row, their legs coiled, waiting. The sight freezes some of them in place. They gasp, exchange looks, and take some steps back—but no one speaks up, and no one leaves.

Reese pulls out a phone. Not his—Contestant 1’s, cracked screen and all. Only now, it’s working. He opens an app. Then slides a finger up, like he’s adjusting the volume of something. At least, that’s what it looks like he’s doing.

Almost instantly, the spider drones retract their legs, locking into stillness. Now, they’re nothing more than a row of perfect spheres lining the roof. Reese steps forward, standing between two of them, at the edge of the rooftop. Rebecca freezes mid-breath, but the drones don’t react. He turns to the group.

“Did you do that?” someone asks.

Again, Reese doesn’t respond.

“Listen, I don’t know how long the signal lasts, so this has to be quick. Let me hand you the props. Are you excited? You better be.” He rolls his neck. “Fourteen, give me the boxes.”

Contestant 14 moves forward, placing a small carbon box on the ground—not much bigger than the one they stored their phones in. Then, next to it, he places a bigger one.

“Come on, folks. Don’t be afraid. Take one. You need one of each,” Reese says.

“What are they?” asks the same contestant as before.

Reese clears his throat and rubs his chin. “One is a…” he chuckles, “I don’t even know what they’re called, but I’ve seen a lot of videos of people wearing them lately. You know what I’m talking about? Those jackets that expand like squirrel wings or something. It’s for us to jump off the roof. In the other box, there are action cameras we’ll use to record the jump.”

“What?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Wait, what the hell are we doing here?” asks Contestant 24 as he makes his way through the crowd.

“Good question.” Reese nudges the box with his foot. “We’re shooting a video. In this scene, we jump.”

Silence. The last slanting rays of sun paint the sky behind him. Rebecca has no words. The others don’t either. At least until Contestant 24 speaks again.

“You seriously expect us to jump?” he asks. “Just to record a video with you?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“It’s too dangerous,” Vanessa intervenes. “I mean, there are so many things that could go wrong.

Reese shakes his head. “Nah, you’re overreacting, man. I mean, yeah, this is probably gonna get us in trouble, but it’ll just be a night in jail or something lame like that. Rebecca and I used to pull risky shit all the time, and that’s all they ever did to us. Right?”

He and all the other contestants turn their heads toward her. She hesitates, then says, “Yes.”

But that’s not entirely true. They were also punished for breaking into the nurse’s office. The punishment wasn’t physical. It was manipulation, and ultimately, the destruction of their relationship.

It’s too late to change her answer and be honest now, anyway. Reese is already asserting himself with a satisfied smile, and some of the contestants are already considering going through with it.

“And you’re sure this works?” Contestant 2 asks, examining the squirrel-winged jacket. It’s compact, like one of those waterproof jackets that fold into tiny pouches.

Reese scoffs. “There’s videos of people using them all over the internet. That should be the last of your concerns.”

“So we should be concerned about other stuff,” Vanessa insists.

“Didn’t you hear him?” Contestant 6 exclaims. “A night in jail—that’s all. I want to do it. Give me the jacket. I want to jump.”

“Come on, guys,” Reese continues. “It’ll be fucking groundbreaking. And we’ll be recording the whole thing. Even Live’s gonna love it. My theory is they benefit from us doing stuff like this. It boosts their numbers.”

“You’re asking us to risk our lives for you. You realize that, don’t you?” says Contestant 24.

“You could jump and die here—though that’s very unlikely, because these things are solid.” He lifts the pouch in his hand. “Or you could die on tonight’s episode. At least here, you’ll be doing something. You decide.”

“Something for you.”

“Ah, that’s the real problem, isn’t it? Well, you’re free to go hide in bed. Let the rest of us make the best of our situation.”

“Yeah.” More contestants start getting on board with the idea. “I want a little fun.”

“We’re not dead yet, are we?”

“But there’s something I don’t understand.” This time, it’s Contestant 43 who speaks. He’s leaning against the door at the back of the group, arms crossed over his chest. All the other contestants turn to look at him. “You want us to jump but have no intention of escaping? Seems to me like you’re wasting an opportunity here.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible,” Reese says. “But if you, or anyone, finds a way to escape, then go ahead. Be my guest.”

“You’re not planning on escaping, then?”

“I’ll decide when I hit the ground,” Reese says. “So, are you in or not?”

After a moment of indecision, the contestants—all of them, Vanessa and Contestant 24 included—agree to shoot the scene.

“Okay.” Reese pulls a rolled piece of fabric from the box and hands it to the closest person.

Rebecca gets hers from Contestant 14. She spreads it out, slips it on, and prays her stomach won’t betray her before they’re instructed to jump.

“Are you ready? Remember to enjoy the moment and have fun. We’ll see each other on the other side.”

A pause.

“I meant down there, by the way.”

Contestant 45 steps forward. She makes sure to grab the spot next to Reese before Contestant 14 does.

“I’m ready,” she says.

Reese’s eyes narrow, but when the others start murmuring—“Yeah, me too.” “Let’s shoot this thing.”—his lips twitch into a grin.

“That’s the spirit.” Reese says.

Rebecca isn’t ready; her legs wobble like noodles. She stays put while the other contestants pass by her side. Some brush against her or bluntly push her with their arms, yet she doesn’t move an inch.

With his back to them, Reese addresses the hesitant ones over his shoulder. “What are you doing over there? You either jump with us or go back inside.” When his eyes fall on Rebecca, his whole face softens. Rebecca’s stomach churns. “Rebecca,” he says. “Nobody’s forcing you, okay?”

Rebecca swallows. What’s that supposed to mean?

She’s not sure why, but instead of retreating into the emergency stairs and back into the house, she begins walking toward the edge of the roof, to an empty spot between Contestants 10 and 38.

“No.” Reese calls out again, and Rebecca stops. “I saved a spot for you,” he says, removing the box from his side.

For a second, Rebecca dismisses him and takes a single step in the opposite direction. As soon as she turns her back on him, she remembers the hand squeeze he gave her earlier, and she stops. Stick to him—that’s how she’d interpreted it. So she ends up obeying and takes the spot next to Reese.

Ten seconds later, all twenty-nine of them stand at the edge, unmoving spider drones at their sides, the city glowing beneath them. The wind cries in thin, reedy whistles.

“One!” Reese’s voice tears through it. “Two!”

Rebecca feels his hand tighten around hers. She yanks her gaze from the dizzying drop and looks at him. His lips move. No sound. But she swears she reads the words:

“Don’t jump.”

He doesn’t let go.

“Three!”

They stay put. But at least twenty others leap. Their capes work. Their bodies turn weightless, like feathers. But it doesn’t matter.

Below, spider drones emerge from walls, windows, and the street. Gunfire rattles the buildings. Contestants drop limp. The pavement greets them. Pedestrians scream. Cars skid, horns blaring. The spider drones crawl back into their hideouts as quickly as they came.

On the rooftop, a single second of dead silence follows.

“What the hell!” Contestant 6 shatters the quiet. He spins on Reese and shoots an arm out, a trembling finger aimed at his chest. His grin stretches wider than ever. “Did you just kill all of those people?”

Reese doesn’t say anything. He stares at the dead bodies on the pavement. He’s lost every drop of color in his face, and his eyes are as empty as black pits. Even his breathing is off. It’s too slow and too shallow.

“He’s right,” Contestant 24 says. “You didn’t jump. Why didn’t you jump?”

“You knew about the drones,” says Contestant 10—Lena’s other friend. She didn’t jump either.

Before anyone notices, Rebecca lets go of Reese’s hand as if his skin had turned electrified. He finally pulls his attention away from the mess he made and looks at her hand instead. A moment later, their eyes meet—but she can’t tell what he’s trying to say. She can’t read him anymore.

Did he plan this? Did he want them to die?

“Hey, answer us,” Vanessa demands. “Why didn’t you jump?”

Reese steps away from the edge. Facing the door to the stairs, he squats and grabs his head. The group follows him—now only eight. Rebecca looks around. Vanessa didn’t jump. Neither did Contestants 6, 10, 24, 2, or 45.

“I can’t believe you killed them all!” Contestant 6 claps, laughing hysterically, practically bouncing in place.

“The drones were turned off when we first got here. Did you do that?”

“Are you getting special treatment from the producers?”

“I can’t believe someone else lost their shit and killed everyone—and it wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.”

“Don’t act like you’re in shock,” says Contestant 24, turning his back to the void and facing Reese. “You wanted this to happen.”

“Leave him alone!” Contestant 45 shouts. She’s crying now, and her mascara stains her cheeks. “He didn’t know. He was just trying to help us.”

“Yeah, right,” Vanessa says. “Look around, honey.” She grabs Contestant 45 by the arm. “Isn’t it a bit too much of a coincidence that both his girlfriends survived?”

“You planned this, didn’t you?” Contestant 10 aims the question at Rebecca instead of Reese.

Rebecca tries to take a step back, but she has to adjust quickly as her heel finds the air.

“No,” she says.

Contestant 24 steps forward. “You’re full of shit,” he spits. “You and your psychopathic boyfriend planned this. Kill everyone, then run away together.”

Reese stands. “Run where? I’m trapped here, same as you.”

“Bullshit!”

“Why is she alive, Reese?”

“Did you see that, Tommy. There’s someone more crazy than us.”

“Reese, did you tell her not to jump?”

Reese looks at Contestant 45, horrified, but before he can answer, Contestant 24 lunges at him, clearly trying to tackle him.

Reese holds up Contestant 1’s phone. “You don’t want me to reactivate the drones, do you? Then keep your panties on.”

Silence.

The alarms at the emergency stairs go off. Rebecca remembers them from their first time on the rooftop. When she was just starting to believe maybe Reese wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe he was worth trusting. Now, all she sees is a murderer. Cold. Disconnected from anything but his goals. Scared, too. But above all, ruthless. Dangerous.

And she’d shared his bed so many times she’d lost count. She thought her life was safe in his hands. She thought she knew him. Thought she recognized his masks—both the fake and the real.

Where did that man go? Was he buried under the insanity of the show? Had her betrayal broken him past repair? Had she split the minds of two people in that house?

Rebecca takes a deep breath, and a tear rolls down her cheek.

The morning started with twenty-eight contestants and the man she loved. Now, they’re eight strangers.

Index

Finally, I posted this chapter! 
This is probably my favorite chapter of all. 
Things have changed, haven't they? 
I'm very curious to know what you think! =D"

Leave a comment

Index

#Log_057 – Restoring Normalcy

That evening, Reese sits with Contestants 14 and 45 again. The only difference is they’re just three chairs away from Rebecca. They’re so close, in fact, that she can hear parts of their conversation.

“It will be like…” Rebecca hears Contestant 45 say, “…hope it goes viral.”

Contestant 14 is harder to understand. “Right, mate? Right, man?” That’s all she can make out of what he says.

He looks at Reese like he’s everything he aspires to be. It’s clear even from a distance, though, that they both know when the time comes, one of them will kill the other. Contestant 14 is vicious. Reese likes that. Makes things easier, Rebecca supposes.

She sits alone, until Vanessa takes the seat next to her. Rebecca isn’t sure she’s ready for a conversation with her, but Vanessa doesn’t give her the chance to refuse. She just speaks—and her words take Rebecca by surprise.

“I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just say it: people out there think it’s weird that you haven’t said anything about what’s happening between you and Reese. You haven’t posted about it. You haven’t responded to any comments tagging you. You haven’t even talked about it with any of us. There are bets online on whether you’re actually a person or some AI.”

Rebecca feels like someone just poured a bucket of cold water over her. She’s weird now? A robot?

“Nobody shares their personal life online.”

“Did you fall on your head this morning? What about your boyfriend?”

Rebecca gasps, just slightly.

“I’m not trying to offend you, okay? I’m teaching you how to be a human being, damn it. I’ve met people like you, but I thought they were all nerds, not dancers.”

“People like me?”

“Yes. Walking flesh-and-blood machines. In their case, math machines. In yours, a dancing machine. But that’s all you are. A machine with a single purpose. Everything else is a waste of time. Who raised you like that?”

Rebecca doesn’t know what to say. Her cheeks burn. The numbers 23 and 38 flash on the screen, but she’s too thrown off by the conversation to pay attention.

“The people watching this show don’t care about what I have to say about—”

“Come on, girl. I’m trying to be real with you.” Rebecca turns to Vanessa so quickly her neck cracks. “I thought you were real. At least Reese wouldn’t shut his mouth about how genuine and true to yourself you were.”

“When did he say that?”

“During the short period of time I hung out with him.”

The answer disappoints Rebecca. “Look where being real has got me.”

Vanessa smiles.

“There she is.” A pause. “Tell me, did you have anyone outside this place? Friends? A boyfriend?”

Rebecca doesn’t answer. That’s enough for Vanessa.

“I didn’t,” she continues. “Yes, I had friends, but at the end of the day, I was completely alone. Even when they stayed in we would just bury our noses in our phones. Some nights, we wouldn’t even share a word with each other.” Not even her eyebrow twitches as she exposes herself like that. “Did you have someone? Do you think the people watching this show have someone? None of us do. We’re all trying to connect. The only difference is, we can help them with that.”

Rebecca straightens her back.

“I don’t agree. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean I have to change or conform to make other people happy.” She swallows. “Maybe you’re right—I’m too obsessed with one goal. I liked it. And I lost it. And now I’m here. I don’t care if people understand me or not.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re desperate to be liked. That’s why you pushed so far with your dancing. When people see you on stage, they love you. Ballet is beautiful, and so are you. I’ve seen your videos—you look like a feathered angel.” She tilts her head. “But when you’re not dancing, you’re just you. And you’re so afraid that people won’t like you that you push everyone away. Even Reese.”

“I did that for a reason.”

“Don’t worry. I think you were right in doing what you did.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Everybody loves him now. He’s the poor victim, somehow. They forget he cheated on you first.”

Rebecca swallows. She hadn’t forgotten—how could she? But she preferred not to think about it.

“The thing is, I despise the guy. Now I see it so clearly. It’s better that you pulled away. Besides, his fans are like… a cult.”

Rebecca lifts her back off the chair. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. They do everything he asks. He uploads a story asking for ten new picks, and he gets twenty and a whole new guitar. Just before this, he got this huge package. Didn’t you see him? And now it’s not just outside—people here are doing the same. He’s a master manipulator.”

Rebecca can’t help but let out a small chuckle.

“‘Master manipulator’ sounds a bit much. Reese is persuasive, and he can be bossy, but he’s not a bad person. His intention never is to hurt anybody.”

“Oh no. You too? Girl, I thought you’d opened your eyes.”

“He isn’t what you think. When you really get to know him, you see that he’s hardworking and doesn’t give up. He has faith in himself, but also in others.”

“Or that’s what he made you believe.”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Then why hasn’t he forgiven you? What you did was for a good reason.”

Rebecca’s eyes widen. It’s the first time someone has understood why she did what she did. But Vanessa’s question is the same one she’s been asking herself. And yet, saying it out loud makes it real in a way she isn’t prepared for.

“I don’t know. He probably has his reasons.”

“Of course he has a reason—he wants to win. He used you to get this far, and now he doesn’t need you anymore. You gave him the perfect out.”

“That’s not it,” Rebecca says, firmly. “First of all, what do you even mean by ‘this far’? There are 29 contestants left.”

Second of all, he’s not even mad at her. He just doesn’t love her anymore. “You’re not the woman I thought you were.” She keeps that point to herself.

“You’re still in love with him.”

“So?” Rebecca holds Vanessa’s gaze with more defiance than she should.

Vanessa watches her carefully before shaking her head. “I don’t get it, that’s all. But if you’re fine with it...”

“Seriously, you don’t get it?” Rebecca asks. “I thought we were being real.”

Vanessa’s lips slide into a resigned smile. “Okay, you got me there. I saw the appeal once, but not anymore. I thought he was deeper than he is. More in tune with his feelings.”

“In tune with his feelings or not, that doesn’t change the fact that he always treated me with care and respect.” Rebecca sighs. “And you know what? I think the viewers hate it.”

Vanessa hesitates for a fraction of a second before scoffing. “Well, I hate it too,” she finally says. “You sound like a religious fanatic. Brainwashed, girl. Just like those jerks.” She gestures at Reese and the contestants around him. Contestants 14 and 45 aren’t the only ones anymore.

Reese doesn’t pay attention to any of them—or to Rebecca, for that matter. He’s too busy checking his phone, typing, scrolling, brows knitting together, foot tapping on the floor. What is he doing? Rebecca can’t stand not knowing.

“Stop looking at him! You gotta be strong.”

“I am being strong.”

“Listen to me when I tell you—you’re better off without him.”

“That’s not true.”

“Please tell me you don’t still think he has feelings for you.” She rolls her eyes. “Oh my God, you’re such a cutie pie. He doesn’t. He never did. It’s not your fault. Love isn’t real. It was invented to keep marriages going.”

“I appreciate that you want to teach me how to be a human being,” Rebecca says, tinged with sarcasm, “but I’m fine. I’m still really sad.” Just thinking about Lena makes her throat ache, so she doesn’t say her name. “But I’ve come to terms with the fact that…” She stops. Her first impulse is to say ‘I don’t want to live without ballet’, but instead she finishes the sentence with: “I have to trust.”

“Trust what?”

Rebecca studies the floor, as if searching for answers. “My instincts. My heart. That’s part of opening up too, isn’t it?”

“That’s the part that gets you hurt later. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

The steel door swings open, and Contestant 23 steps through. Rebecca never even heard a sound from the battle.

Index

What do you think of this new friendship that seems to be forming? ^^
Thank you for reading and please don't forget to share your thoughts.
<3

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Index

#Log_056 – Special Episode

Rebecca drags her feet through the hallways of the house as she carries herself around places. She misses breakfast but at lunch she doesn’t even touch her soup. The spoon is too heavy. The soup, too greasy.

She sits with her back at the other contestants, her long dark hair falling down the sides, hiding her face. When most are gone, she gets up and leaves for her room. She could’ve gone training but what’s the point? She can’t find a reason to do that, or anything.

Her power of will probably left with Lena, or died with Reese’s love.

In the evening, the thirty remaining contestants gather in the common room, but the place feels empty. Rebecca sits in the back right corner. It’s not the most comfortable chair, but at least she can rest her head against the wall.

Reese sits in the front row. Every time she’s run into him, he’s been glued to his phone, but now his full attention is on the screen. He sits between Contestant 14, who is practically sprawled across his chair, eyes turned up as if bored with the situation, and Contestant 45.

Rebecca has always known that Reese and Contestant 14 get along—at least, the last thing he told her about him was that his rap was getting better. But this is the first time she’s seen him interact with Contestant 45. And damn, she doesn’t like it.

Contestant 45’s legs are curled up on the chair. She is slightly turned toward Reese and shoots glances at him every once in a while. Reese doesn’t pay attention to either of them. He just waits for the screen to come on.

One seat behind them, Contestant 6 watches their every move—shoulders hunched, mumbling to himself, twitching as his gaze bounces from one to the other. Almost like Rebecca.

“Oh, God. No.”

She centers her focus on the screen. The image of the hosts pops up on the wall. Her stomach tightens.

The male host’s voice blasts overhead, unusually solemn. “Tonight, there will be no battle.”

A pause. Then, the female host picks up. “Instead, we honor the memory of Contestant 30—Lena, was her name.”

A video begins to play. It starts with clips of her past life. Lena at a party, laughing too loud. Lena with her family, squinting at the sun, mid-smile. Then, Live. Her best moments on the show. A clip of her rolling her eyes at something dumb the hosts said. A shot of her in the dining hall, mocking the nutrient paste with an exaggerated gag. Her most-watched post—some stupid inside joke that made the comment section explode. The hosts chuckle.

Rebecca feels sick.

This isn’t honoring anything. It’s a highlight reel. A final piece of content. Something to keep the audience entertained.

Her hands curl into fists. Lena is gone. This isn’t for her. It never intended to be.

“But hey!” the male host adds. “Why don’t we ask our contestants to share some anecdotes about Lena? Don’t you think she would’ve loved it?”

“She sure enjoyed sharing her opinions about others with us,” says the female host, with a coma-inducing sweetness in her voice.

The cameras broadcast the common room and all of them trapped inside it. That’s it. Rebecca can’t do this. She stands and walks out. Eyes on the door. Her stomach churning, her pulse hammering. She doesn’t know where she’s going, as long as it’s away.

She ends up in the training facility. She doesn’t know if she came here on instinct or just because it was the only place left. The room is quiet—so quiet she still hears the voices of the hosts at times, slipping through the doors of the common room.

“Shut up, for once in your life,” Rebecca mumbles to herself.

Immediately, she pulls out her phone, scrolls through the playlists, and presses play. The first notes of the piano tickle the back of her neck. She lifts her shoulders, lets her head fall back and closes her eyes. Her body starts moving on its own.

The training booth isn’t large, but it’s enough. Her arms slide open at her sides, her shoulders spread, and she balances on her right foot while her free leg reaches far to the side, traveling across the room in a pas de bourrée. Her half-toe balance is perfect, just like it used to be.

Her body remembers the steps, but hesitates with every one of them. There’s a fracture between mind and motion—a twitch in her leg, a twist in her stomach. But she pushes through it. She lets the ache rise into her throat and pour out in the form of tears. And then, she surrenders.

Yes, it hurts. With every petit saut, pirouette or piqué turn she takes, memories of her life outside creep back. The life she lost. The one they took from her. She still hates them, all of them. God, she would’ve loved to see them burn. She was paying anyway. Unlike Lena, who did nothing to deserve what she got.

As soon as Lena’s face flashes behind her closed eyes, the pain intensifies. She feels it in her jaws, in her scalp. She wants to rip it off.

But the music leads her into an écarté, and her body falls perfectly in place. Shoulders flat, diagonal to the body, keeping the same line as her raised leg. She smiles. It’s the movement, the technique, the coordination of her body and the rhythm of the piano that she loves so much. How could anything else matter, when she can dance?

And when she does, the world outside ceases to exist. It’s just her. The music. The pleasure. The love. And she’s got it back. She lost everything else—her life, her freedom, her only friend, a man who loved her. But she’s got dancing back, and she doesn’t even want to think about a life without it.

She dances until her muscles scream. Until she feels the tears mixing with sweat. Until her limbs are too heavy to keep going. Out of breath and with her heart hammering in the throat, she finally collapses onto the mat. The playlist keeps running. Rebecca can’t even stretch an arm to reach for her phone and turn it off. Her eyelids close on their own. She just lets exhaustion pull her under. And there, in the quiet of the training facility, she falls asleep—smiling.

Rebecca wakes up in her bed. Her head feels heavy, her limbs sluggish, like she’s been dragged out of a deep, dreamless sleep. Her fingers grip the soft, warm blanket. She blinks. She’s fully dressed, except for the shoes. But she’s under the covers. Her stomach tightens. She doesn’t remember getting here. The last thing she recalls is the training facility. Dancing until her muscles stopped responding.

She pushes herself upright. Did someone bring her here? Reese, maybe? There’s no way to know. She rubs a hand down her face, exhales, and forces herself out of bed.

The dining hall is louder than normal when she steps inside. At the center of it all is Reese. Standing at the far end, on top of a table, addressing the group.

Rebecca pauses and watches. He speaks with a smooth, confident voice and smiles like nothing happened.

“We can’t just keep doing the same dead shit. Gotta mix it up, yeah?” Some of the contestants nod, others shoot him wary glances. Reese lets the murmuring die down before continuing. “And this works for me, too, because I’ve been wanting to do it for a while now.” He makes a small pause. Just enough to build anticipation. “It’ll go great with this song I released a couple of days ago.” He scans the room, his eyes shining with pride. “I want something groundbreaking. Unique. A piece of art. And I want all of you in it.”

The reaction is instant. The contestants begin exchanging opinions and concerns, but none of them leave. They’re already sold.

“I’m not going to lie, it does sound like fun,” says Contestant 24, taking several of the contestants by surprise, including Reese. Of course, he hides it quickly.

“I know, right?” Reese says, flashing a smirk. “A lot of fun.”

“Yeah.” Contestant 24 nods. “But what do we get? I mean, I can have fun on my own terms.”

Reese chuckles. “My man, you’re absolutely free to do what you want.” His tone is light and casual. “I’m not telling you what to do, alright? I’m inviting you.”

He makes it sound like a choice. Like a privilege, even. But there’s something in the way he keeps monitoring the room that tells Rebecca this is more important to him that he wants people to know. It’s subtle, probably no one notices but her.

“When do we do it?” Contestant 38 asks. She looks excited. And her excitement is contagious.

“Patience, my friend. It’ll be one of these days,” Reese says. “I need a couple of props that some friends are sending me. One of them asked me to promote her product, so we can’t start without it. But as soon as I get them, we’ll do it.”

More questions follow, but Reese finds perfectly convincing answers for all of them. By the time he gets off the table and the crowd spreads out, the contestants are completely on board with his mysterious project. If Rebecca didn’t know him better, she’d really believe his intention is to make a video for one of his songs and do a little marketing on the side. But that can’t be it. He wouldn’t let Lena’s death slide like it’s just another casualty. He wouldn’t just wake up one day and decide he’s over Rebecca and ready to jump into his next mission.

Rebecca walks up to him. He doesn’t even notice. He’s lost in thought, smiling triumphantly. He’s got exactly what he wanted.

“Reese, did you—?”

“Not now, yeah?” he interrupts, brushing past her. He’s already several steps away when he adds, “I need to upload a video for my fans. You should have breakfast.”

The video drops later that afternoon. Just Reese, talking straight to the camera. Smiling. Like Lena’s death didn’t touch him. Like being apart from Rebecca doesn’t, either.

“Guys, I’ve got some great news,” he says, rubbing his hands in front of his face. “I decided to record a music video here on Live with the remaining contestants. I already have this concept in mind. I don’t want to spoil anything, so I won’t say much. But I’m one hundred percent sure you’re gonna love it.” He grins, but his eyes tell a different story. “Even if some of us never make it out, this will make sure we live forever. Every single one of us—a legend.”

Then, his face sombers—just slightly.

“The other thing I wanted to talk about… something you’ve been asking a lot.” Rebecca’s stomach tightens. She already knows. “It’s about Rebecca.” He exhales, shaking his head like it’s funny. “Guys, I’m fine. Water under the bridge. I thought I felt something for her, but—” A small laugh. “Now I realize it wasn’t what I thought. Maybe being trapped in here, with so few options, if you know what I mean, made me overreact a little. Made things feel bigger than they actually were.” He leans back, relaxed. “But I’m fine. She’s fine. We’re both extremely sad about Lena; she was a good kid. But other than that, we’re good.”

The video ends. Rebecca stares at the black screen, even after it’s over, even after there’s nothing left to see. Then Reese’s words come back to her—the last thing he told her right before Lena’s fight: “Just remember what I’ve been asking you all this time. What I asked you on the rooftop. You will have to do that.”

Index

I loved writing this chapter.
Rebecca seems to have reconciliated with ballet ^^
Thank you for reading and please share your thoughts.
I'd love to hear them <3

Leave a comment

Index

#Log_055 – Double Elimination

Reese doesn’t show up for breakfast the next morning and Rebecca knows why. He spent the whole night rewriting the lyrics to one of his old songs. At five in the morning, he uploaded a video. In it, Reese sits in his armchair, guitar in hand, as usual. No flashy edits. No theatrics. Just him, playing a song.

The video starts with him looking directly at the camera. “This one goes to all my friends and fans out there. You mean the world to me. Even you, you cheap bastard. This one’s especially for you.”

Rebecca listens. The lyrics don’t make sense. At first, they sound like a mess of unrelated sentences—random phrases stitched together. But then she catches it. There’s a pattern. Fragments of conversations. Little things. Probably things only one other person was meant to understand. She just hopes the tech guy gets the message.

While Rebecca slips a protein bar into her pocket for Reese, Lena sits beside her. She looks devastated.

“You didn’t come back to the common room last night,” she says.

Rebecca nods. “I didn’t. Why?”

“You missed the fight.” Lena sighs.

Rebecca’s eyes widen. “Who lost?”

“Contestant 10.” Lena leans forward and lets her head fall onto her hand. “They fought for five hours. The hosts left. Most of the audience in the arena left. The hosts ended up announcing her victory remotely. I bet they had two videos recorded—just in case.”

Five hours? Rebecca can’t even process that idea. She read online that her own fight lasted forty minutes. Four hours and twenty minutes more of that and she would’ve lost her head.

“How’s… she?” asks Rebecca. She’s never learnt Contestant 23’s name, but saying her number doesn’t seem appropriate at the time.

She and Lena claim to be close; they both share a passion for sports. Contestant 23 used to be a boxer—before she kicked her dog to heaven during a fight with her also deceased girlfriend. In jail, she learned to calm down.

“I don’t know. She hasn’t left her room.”

Before Rebecca can say anything, Lena straightens up and spits out a bunch of questions, one after the other.

“What about you? How are you doing with the fight? And Reese? Are you two back together yet?”

Rebecca inhales slowly. She doesn’t want to snap at Lena. Not again. Not after she was there for her when no one else was. She sure knows how to get under her skin, though.

“Lena, no. I really don’t want to talk about him.” She hesitates. “I mean…”

How does she explain it? That Reese barely looks at her. That he won’t let her in his bed. That the idea of him kissing her feels like a dream. That if she tries to put it into words, she might break.

She settles on, “He’s still angry, I think.” Then quickly adds, “But please don’t post this. None of it. It won’t matter, I know—they’re probably already listening—but still…” She gestures at the cameras. “Right now, I just want to disappear for a while.”

Lena places a hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about that,” she says. “I’ve decided I’m done doing what they ask. I’m putting a stop to it.”

Rebecca frowns.

Lena gives her a small, tired smile. “Maybe you were right. Maybe my chances of winning are basically nonexistent. But if I have to die, I don’t want to go out as a bitch.” Her voice softens. “I’m a good person, Rebecca. I want to stay a good person until the end.”

Rebecca looks at her. Then, she smiles too. A real smile, born of real fondness.

“And the fight?” Lena presses on. “How are you handling the fact that you killed a person?”

Rebecca scoffs. “I’d do it again, gladly.”

An awkward silence follows. Rebecca shoots a glance at Lena, expecting to find her scandalized, disgusted. But Lena looks more frightened than anything. So frightened, she tries to hide it.

“I meant, to him, Contestant 1. He wasn’t necessarily gentle with me. But I guess I’m just blaming him for my own faults.”

“No, I get it. You’ll feel better,” Lena concludes.

Reese spends the rest of his day doing anything but paying attention to her. She lets him. She gives him the space he needs to decide if he’ll forgive her. Or if he won’t. The only time he acknowledges her is during the battle. That night, Rebecca and Reese sit side by side in the common room. The noise around them fades into the background.

She leans in slightly. “Anything?”

Reese doesn’t answer right away. He just says, “Maybe.” Then he looks at her. At her nose, at her chin, her cheeks. Anything but her eyes. “Rebecca, there are certain things I don’t want to talk about.” A pause. Then, he adds, “Just remember what I’ve been asking you all this time, will ya? What I asked you that time on the rooftop. You will have to do that, yeah?”

For a second—one that might as well have been a full minute—Rebecca stares at Reese. She can only see the side of his face, because he has his eyes glued to the screen: his straight nose, his long eyelashes, the dark, deep line between his eyebrows. A desire to rest her head on his shoulder, to hide her face in the crook of his neck, grows like a physical knot in her chest. When he finally turns to her, he raises his eyebrows, demanding an answer.

Rebecca swallows and nods.

There’s a brief moment when their eyes finally meet—no, not just meet, linger—and hope warms her from the inside. Of course, it doesn’t last. Pure, cold dread replaces it when the numbers flash across the screen. One is 15.

The other, 30.

“No.” Rebecca’s fingers tighten around Reese’s sleeve.

Across the room, Lena stands. The lights from the picture of the arena tint her hair pink and red and purple. For some reason, she always sits near the front. Always so close to the big screen. Rebecca notices that for the first time. Like it matters. Like it’ll give her any advantage now.

“Reese, she can’t.”

But Lena is already moving. Already disappearing behind the steel door with Contestant 15. Rebecca stares at the screen. Any second now, Lena will appear there.

And when she does she looks terrified. A child. Rebecca’s breath catches.

“This is insane.”

Lena is already on the floating platform, being carried to her spot. “She stole a stupid trophy from some teacher’s office. Why… how could—” Her fingers clench tighter around Reese’s sleeve. “Why did they choose her?”

Reese’s voice is quiet. “What’s her ability?”

Rebecca inhales sharply and her stomach drops. She doesn’t know. She never asked.

She thinks that thought will haunt her through the entire fight. But she doesn’t get the chance. Despite her Adhesive Skin, Contestant 15 fails instantly. She lunges at Lena. The punch is weak. Slow. Lena stops it with a single hand. She grabs Contestant 15’s fist and twists it until she falls to her knees and begs her to stop. Lena doesn’t look anything like her usual self. That competitive, ruthless version of her was probably reserved for hokey. She lets go of Contestant 15’s hand and grabs her head, both sides. And with a single, effortless twist—the neck cracks.

The fight is over.

Rebecca waits for her return to the common room. So does Reese. In fact, he approaches her first.

“Well done, Lena,” he tells her, pressing a hand to her scalp and messing her hair.

Lena smiles, but her eyes are too wide and too lost for Rebecca to believe that smile is anything remotely close to real. She walks up to her.

“How are you?”

Lena lifts her head, but her eyes keep wandering. “Can you walk me to my room?”

“Sure.”

Next morning, Lena doesn’t show up for breakfast. Or lunch. Rebecca goes to see her in her room. She knocks. No answer. She opens the door. Nothing. Her stomach tightens.

She searches the common room. The training facility. The dining hall. The kitchen. Even the shared bathrooms. She’s nowhere. Rebecca returns to Lena’s room. This time, she steps inside. Her legs tremble as she moves toward the bathroom door. She doesn’t know what she expects to find. But a knot in her stomach tells her she won’t like it.

And, goddammit, she is right.

The scream rips through her before she even realizes it. It spreads through the entire house. She knows it because within seconds, the others are there. Their eyes darting from one to the other.

Rebecca falls on her knees and grabs Lena’s body, pulling her onto her lap. Lena’s arms hang stiff, blood-drenched from elbow to wrist. They fall forward, cold and slack, rigid at the elbows. Like they shouldn’t bend that way. Next to her, a piece of broken mirror reflects the bathroom light, its edge darkened with dried blood.

Rebecca’s jumpsuit also soaks through. She doesn’t cry. Not because she isn’t sad. Because she doesn’t accept this is real. She doesn’t blink, either.

When other contestants kneel beside her and take Lena’s body from her arms, Rebecca stands. She doesn’t see who they are. Their faces are blurry. Indistinct. All she knows is she has to get out of there. Her stomach twists violently. Her heart slams against her ribs. But she doesn’t stumble. She walks straight through the crowd, spine upright, chin up. Only her face gives away her inner turmoil—through the quivering at the corners of her mouth and her tear-glistening lashes.

Rebecca slams her bedroom door shut behind her. Her hands tremble, air doesn’t reach her lungs, and she can’t stop pacing along the narrowing walls. She stumbles backward onto her bed. Her breath is shallow, erratic. And she bursts.

She screams. Kicks the wall. Kicks the bed. Her fists slam into the mattress, into the pillows, into anything that won’t bruise her hands. A tantrum. A full-blown, feral tantrum.

Years had passed since she had lost control like this—back when she was a dancer. Young, obsessed, desperate for perfection. When her body refused to cooperate, when the routine fell apart, when she wasn’t good enough, she’d collapse onto the studio floor, fists pounding against it, breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts.

It didn’t happen often. But when it did, it felt unstoppable. Then, she grew up. She learned to control it. Or she thought she did. Because here she is—screaming into the void, kicking at nothing, clawing at air. And nothing changes.

Her gaze snaps to the mirror. But instead of the real one, hanging on her wall, she sees the one in Lena’s bathroom. Shattered. Broken into a thousand jagged pieces. Her breath catches and her stomach twists violently. Her eyes flick to the clock on her nightstand. She snatches it up, unplugging it with one sudden pull. Then she throws it.

The clock slams into the glass. A violent explosion of shards brings her back to reality. The minute fragments burst outward, crashing onto the floor, the bed, her skin. Rebecca stands there, panting. It doesn’t help. The mirror is gone, but the image of Lena stays with her.

And through the remaining cracks, she sees Reese. Standing in the doorway. Watching her. His face is blank. No anger, no pity, just… there. Rebecca’s breath hitches. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. She just stares back at him through the fractured glass.

Then, finally, she turns around. “Reese.”

He doesn’t let her finish. He comes closer and pulls her in, arms wrapping around her. He presses a hand gently to the back of her head; with the other, he circles her waist. Rebecca breaks. She sobs against his chest. Messy, childlike. Like her tantrum.

She cries for everything. For Lena. For her leg. For burning down her studio. For prison. For Contestant 1. For the humiliation. For betraying Reese. For the horrible certainty in her gut that only one of them will make it out alive. She can’t bear it.

“I can’t be here anymore,” she cries out, her voice muffled by his skin. “I can’t take another day. I need to get out, Reese. I need to get out now.”

“Working on it,” Reese whispers.

Rebecca lifts her head. “What?”

“You heard me.”

She stares at him, unsure whether she heard him correctly or if it was just her imagination giving her false hope.

He doesn’t give her an answer, or even a clue. He just breaks the hug and takes a step back, despite her clinging to his shirt, fingers wrapped around the fabric.

Desperate for something—anything—that might make her feel better, she leans in to kiss him.

He pulls away immediately. “Don’t.”

Rebecca recoils and places a hand on her own chest. The pain is sickening. “When are you going to forgive me?”

Reese avoids her gaze. His eyes fall on her phone instead, which lies on the floor by her nightstand. She probably dropped it when she grabbed the clock.

“I already forgave you,” he says. “It’s just that… you’re not the woman I thought you were.”

Rebecca gasps. The words annihilate her. They pulverize the already shattered pieces of her heart into ash.

She presses a hand to her stomach, like it’ll help, like it’ll hold her together. After everything, she didn’t think there was still anything left to hurt. But there it is.

She searches his face. Is he telling the truth? Or is this just part of the act? There are things they can’t talk about—not if they don’t want to get caught. But why would he lie about this? How does that fit?

Unless—It’s not a lie at all.

Rebecca steps back. A shard of glass cracks beneath her heel. “I think I want to take a nap.”

Reese nods. He says nothing. Just turns and leaves.

Index

Sad chapter u.u
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I truly appreaciate it <3

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Index

#Log_054 – Device Malfunction: Unidentified Cause

Contestants sit in the common room, some silent, rigid, others chatting in low murmurs, feigning disinterest. Rebecca forces her attention on her breathing. She knows this moment too well. The stillness before the announcement. The way the walls feel tighter, the air thinner, the sense that at any second, her number could be called.

But tonight, something else occupies her mind. Reese. He sat next to her. After a day of avoiding her, keeping his distance, saying nothing more than a few monosyllabic sentences, he sat right here. Close enough that their arms almost brush. He doesn’t look at her. Doesn’t acknowledge her. But he’s here. And somehow, that gives a different meaning to the twisting in her guts.

A sound crackles from the overhead speakers. Rebecca straightens. The room falls silent. A moment later, the smiling faces of the hosts appear on the screen, greeting both the contestants and the audience.

“The wait is over! It’s time to reveal tonight’s combatants.”

Someone clears their throat behind her. Someone else exhales, shivering. And the numbers appear. A few gasps. Someone whistles. Rebecca’s stomach finally unclenches. It’s not her. Not tonight, at least.

“Let’s receive in the arena, Contestant 10,” the female host announces. Then the male host continues. “And Contestant 23.”

A small, quiet groan comes from the other side of the room. Rebecca’s gaze snaps toward the source. Contestant 10 leans forward, elbows on his knees, fingers digging into his temples. His jaw flexes.

His ability, Enhanced Equilibrium, is not bad. Not great either. Rebecca doesn’t look away. She tries to imagine how that’s going to hold up in the arena.

Her heart slows, but the relief is bitter—because someone else has to go, and now she knows how terrifying it is. Contestant 23 rolls her shoulders back, exhaling through her nose. Reinforced Rib Cage. Rebecca can’t decide which of them has the advantage. She isn’t sure it matters. All that’s left now is to watch.

On-screen, the arena floor stretches beneath the lights, empty and waiting. Rebecca’s stomach tightens. She can’t believe she was there just last night. She fought. She survived. And now she’s sitting here, watching it like everyone else.

She inhales slowly, trying to shake off the grip of it. She sticks a hand in her pocket, and her fingers twitch against the phantom of the wooden bird, but all she finds is her own thigh. The sparrow. She should have picked it up. She should have held on.

She turns to Reese, intending to tell him. But another thought slams into her. Something more important. She swallows, then leans just slightly toward him.

“Reese. Cheers.”

She speaks in a whisper, just as Contestant 10 growls over the speaker, but Reese hears it. His brows knit together. For a second, he looks genuinely confused. Then his brow relaxes, and his eyes land on hers.

Rebecca smiles because he remembers.

She nods. Just once. He exhales through his nose, almost like a silent laugh, and shakes his head. But when she stands, heading for the kitchen, he follows.

The place is empty. Rebecca steps in first, but before either of them speaks, she points at Reese’s phone. Then, at the pressure cooker on the counter.

Reese arches a brow, but says nothing. He tosses his phone inside. Rebecca grabs the entire pot, walks across the kitchen, and shoves it into the oven—one of the older ones, tucked in the farthest corner.

Reese turns on the sink. Water rushes down the drain. He hits the exhaust fan, too. Then, he switches on two blenders, their motors roaring over the white noise of the fan.

Only then does he look at her. “This better be good, Rebecca.”

She exhales. Presses her hands against the counter, holding herself together. “I lost the bird.”

Reese stares. Just stares. Then he scoffs. “That’s it? That’s what you brought me here for?” The words hurt more than they should.

Rebecca curls her fingers against the rounded edge of the counter. With her fingernails, she carves short lines into the damp wood beneath.

Reese notices. His expression softens. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean that.” He leans forward, arms bracing against the counter. “It doesn’t matter, Rebecca. You put it to good use.”

Rebecca nods once. She looks around, if there are cameras in the kitchen, they are extremely well hidden. She takes a quick look at the oven where Reese’s phone is, and sighs. She wants to tell him. She can’t believe she forgot about it until now.

“Reese, can you wait for me here? I need to show you something.”

“How long?”

“Two seconds, I swear.”

Reese takes a deep breath before finally saying, “Okay.”

“I’ll be right back,” Rebecca says and runs to the door.

On the way to her bedroom, she realizes just how massive the dining room is, and how endlessly long the C-shaped corridor feels. She wishes she had left her clothes at Reese’s, like she did so many times before, but no. She has to sprint all the way to the forty-second dorm and back.

Her clothes—the ones she wore during the battle—are still there, lying on the floor right at the foot of the bed. She picks up both the jumpsuit and the jacket and checks the pockets. The phone is in her trousers.

Instinctively, she tries to unlock it, but it doesn’t respond. The screen stays black and broken. Either way, she takes it with her back to the kitchen, leaving her real phone right where she placed it before tonight’s battle even started: on her nightstand, by the digital clock.

The first thing she sees when she opens the kitchen door is Reese. He’s still waiting, half-sitting on the counter, enduring the ear-splitting cry of the exhaust fan and the blenders. Rebecca is out of breath, but seeing him there gives her just enough strength to smile.

She doesn’t say anything—just shows him the phone.

Reese’s eyes narrow. “Why do you have that with you?”

“This is what I wanted to show you,” she explains, “It’s not mine. And it isn’t working.”

“Where the hell did you get another phone?”

Rebecca hesitates before meeting his gaze. “Contestant 1.”

Reese crosses his arms over his chest and grinds his teeth.

“I took it after the fight,” Rebecca continues. “It was still functioning when I grabbed it. But now it won’t turn on.”

Reese’s lips part slightly. He looks from the phone, to her, then back again. Something changes in his face.

“That was very clever, Rebecca.”

Her whole face lights up. “Do you think it’s possible to get it working?” She hesitates. “Maybe your friend could.”

A second too late, Reese hides a smile behind his hand. Rebecca sees it—and with it, she deciphers the expression on his face. It’s pride. Not just approval. Pride. He’s proud of her. And for the first time since the incident with Contestant 1, hope resurges in Rebecca.

“You can’t ask directly. That’s the problem,” she adds.

“I’ll find a way. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t know why I’m asking you this,” she spits out, the words almost slipping from her mouth on their own.

Reese lifts a hand toward her face—but falters. Instead, he rubs his head and then reaches for Contestant 1’s phone. He puts it in his pocket and thanks her.

That’s the last thing he says to her before turning the devices off and heading to the old oven. He retrieves his phone from the hidden pot and starts walking away.

When he’s just steps from the exit, Rebecca calls after him.

“Reese…” Her face burns. “Can I sleep in your room tonight?”

Reese pauses to consider it. Then, he simply says, “I think better when I’m alone.”

And just like that, he leaves her.

Index

With this Log we begin Chapter 7, The Rupture.
I hop you enjoyed it <3
Thank you for reading and please leave a comment :)
They are food for my soul ^^

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Index

#Log_053 – Alliance Restructuring

The crowd erupts. A deafening wave of cheers, applause, and frenzied chanting swallows the arena, vibrating through the dirt beneath her feet. But Rebecca barely hears it. Her body feels light, distant. Like she’s standing outside herself, watching someone else bask in victory. She drops to her knees. Not from exhaustion—she can’t allow it to herself yet—but because the wooden sparrow is there, half-buried in the dirt. She reaches for it.

Then she catches a glint of light. Something near Contestant 1’s limp body. She hesitates, then shifts direction. It’s his phone. It lies just beyond his outstretched hand, the screen cracked but on, probably by accident, showing the wallpaper—Contestant 1’s wife and two children, a boy and a girl.

The clamor around her explodes all at once, right in her ear, as the hosts call her number. Their voices thunder through the amplifiers, catching the audience’s attention. No one is looking at her. They’re looking at the screens, at the spectacle. The cameras zoom in on the audience.

Rebecca snatches the phone, quick and silently, and shoves it deep into her pocket. She looks around, no one seems to have noticed it. She exhales, steadying herself, and reaches again for the bird.

Too late. The spider drones are already closing in, restraints at the ready.

“Ladies and gentlemen! What a fight!” The male host’s voice soars over the chaos, dripping with theatrical excitement.

The female host steps forward. “Contestant 42, you’ve given us a night to remember!”

The platform descends from above, sliding into place. Rebecca forces herself to stand. She steps on the platform and it rises instantly. She watches the arena shrink beneath her, the bloodstained dirt, the inert body… and the sparrow. Still lying there. Still waiting.

She peeks over the edge of the platform, pressing her weight into her heels. It’s gone. She let it go.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, concludes tonight’s unforgettable battle!”

The male host’s voice sounds louder from where she stands, still dripping with excitement.

“What a performance from Contestant 42! Let’s hope we get something even better tomorrow—same time, same place—with more Live! Until then, goodnight!”

The arena lights dim, and the broadcast cuts to black. Rebecca steps through the entrance to the common room. She barely notices the change in atmosphere before arms wrap around her. Lena. Her grip is tight and warm. Real.

“I’m so happy you won.” Her voice shakes slightly, and Rebecca feels her own body go rigid.

She’s been here before. Not physically. But watching. How many times had she seen this exact moment? A contestant stepping back inside, carrying the weight of victory while the others gather around them, cheering, embracing, congratulating. Now, somehow, she’s the one receiving the congratulations.

She won. The thought barely sinks in before another set of arms pulls her in. The shiny black curls blurring her vision let her know this time it’s Vanessa. Rebecca stiffens. Surprised. She hadn’t expected this from her. But she doesn’t pull away. She lets it happen.

At least until her stomach turns. Violently. She jerks out of Vanessa’s embrace, barely pivoting in time before her body betrays her. Her stomach heaves. She vomits. The crowd around her steps back—almost in sync. Her victory doesn’t feel like a big deal anymore. Not when she’s covered in vomit.

Rebecca coughs, gasping for breath, her body trembling from exhaustion. The room begins to empty. But Lena and Vanessa stay with her.

“Are you okay?” Lena asks.

“I’m exhausted.” Rebecca’s voice is barely there.

Her torso feels unbearably heavy. With one arm around Lena and the other draped over Vanessa’s neck, they guide her back to her room. The moment her head hits the pillow—she’s gone.

She wakes with the first rays of light. The scent of blood and dirt filters into her dreams, pulling her back to reality. It takes a few seconds to remember why she stinks. Then, it hits her. The battle. Contestant 1’s death. The sparrow. Reese.

Getting up doesn’t feel like an option, but staying in bed isn’t one either. She drags herself toward her private bathroom and steps into the shower. The water washes away the odor and the dark stains—but not the memories. Not the fear of having to live through it all over again, if they pick her.

She wraps a towel around her body and heads back to her room. The moment she steps inside, she gasps. Reese is sitting on the edge of her bed, arms resting on his knees, head down. He must have heard her, but he doesn’t look up.

Why won’t he look at her?

“Reese.” Rebecca breathes out his name.

Only then does he lift his head. Their gazes meet. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t frown. Doesn’t reveal a single thing going on inside his mind. He just looks at her.

Rebecca feels the impulse to throw herself into his arms. But she’s too scared. Scared that he’ll reject her. After everything that’s happened, she can’t handle that too. So, neither of them speak.

Then, after a few stretched seconds, Reese sighs. He stands, closes the distance, and pulls her into a hug. It’s gentle, careful. Not passionate—but relieved. Like Lena’s embrace after the fight, only more restrained.

Finally, he speaks. “You really killed it last night.”

“You watched it?” Rebecca asks.

Reese nods. “They made me.”

“So, you’re not mad at me?”

As if she had shocked him with live wires, Reese abruptly breaks the embrace. He doesn’t shove her, but he pushes her back just enough that she stumbles. His eyes harden.

“Are you kidding me?” His voice is sharp, cold. “I’m happy you’re alive, but I’m fucking pissed, Rebecca. What is this—Ruin Your Life: The Sequel?”

Rebecca gasps, her hands securing the towel around her chest. His words cut deep, like daggers straight to her heart.

He must see it on her face, because almost immediately, he softens.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” His voice drops, but the anger still simmers beneath. “I just don’t fucking understand, Rebecca. How could you do something like that?”

Rebecca’s throat tightens. She lowers her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck that!”

“But I am. I’m so sorry.”

“Give me a fucking answer, Rebecca. What the hell were you thinking?”

Her words barely make it out. “You wouldn’t listen to me, Reese. I asked you to stop fighting in my place, but instead you’ve been killing yourself, night after night.”

Reese laughs, bitterly.

“What a waste, then. I’m not killing myself, Rebecca.” His voice is controlled, but there’s something dangerous underneath. “You know I’m always healed by the time I wake up. You’ve seen it.” He steps closer. “I know I can win this. And you know it too. So, cut the crap and tell me. Why did you do it?”

Rebecca swallows hard. “You were bleeding that night, in your sleep. Do you have any idea how scared that made me?”

“Enough to run into some asshole’s bed, I suppose.”

“I asked you to stop.”

“I needed you to support me, Rebecca. Have faith in me, not make me stop.”

Rebecca freezes for a second. “I just couldn’t take it anymore, okay?”

“But I’m not killing myself.”

“I know you’re going to win, Reese. Let’s not make this more difficult than it is.”

“I don’t care about winning. You know what I want.”

“That won’t happen, Reese.”

He inhales, shakes his head, bites his lip, and flicks a glance at her phone lying at the foot of her bed.

Rebecca takes a step further and places a hand on his chest.

“See? We can’t even talk to each other.” She sighs. “We have to accept where we are and what to expect. And out of all the possibilities, I’d be happy if you won.”

Silence. A heavy, suffocating silence.

Reese grabs her by the shoulders and pushes her back, slightly. Enough for their gazes to meet.

“Are you telling me you give up?”

His eyes shine. He doesn’t blink.

Rebecca frowns. It’s not Contestant 1 or what she did that’s really bothering him. It’s something else, but she can’t tell what.

“I don’t know. But I do know you were always meant to win. It’s your victory. I would probably already be gone if it weren’t for you.”

“Bullshit. The way you fought last night, you could win this with or without me.”

“They would never let me have it.”

Reese lets go of her arms and takes a step back.

“What makes you say that?”

Rebecca sighs. She also drifts her eyes to her phone. She isn’t supposed to tell him, but she can’t hold it in anymore. And after that display in the corridor—after being humiliated in front of everyone for what she did—she is sure of one thing. The show doesn’t care whether she tells Reese the truth or not. It wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Still, she hesitates. “Do you have time? It’s kind of a long story.”

Reese doesn’t blink. “Not really. I’m hungry.”

“I’ll be brief.”

“What’s going on, Rebecca” Reese’s voice cracks. It’s almost imperceptible, but to Rebecca, it screams out loud.

“I need to sit down,” she says. The wet towel immediately leaves a stain on the cover. Her hair drips down her back.

Reese bends his knees and squats right in front of her, their faces meeting at the same level. He looks deep into her eyes—not lovingly, but to keep her from escaping this moment. To stop her from trying to evade the truth.

Rebecca swallows. “That day, in the nurse’s office, something happened. Something I didn’t tell you.”

Reese doesn’t speak. But his body goes rigid. He’s listening.

Rebecca clasps her hands together. “I turned on the computer. I used your friend’s USB drive. But all I found were graphics and numbers. I didn’t understand any of it.” She pauses to collect her thoughts. “Then I got a video call. It popped up on the screen. I only answered because I got a message from you saying that I should. I know now it wasn’t you who sent the message, but back then I really thought it was.”

Reese rubs a hand over his face. “I’m not following.”

“That day, I talked to a woman. Anya. She said she was the manager of Viewer Satisfaction, or something like that. She works for Live. And she told me everything.” Rebecca meets his gaze, with caution. “She’s the one that told me they’ve been listening to us this whole time through our phones. She told me about your contract with Drugobrand and showed me your conversation with your girlfriend.”

Reese’s expression darkens. “You are—” He stops himself. “Never mind. Go on.”

“She told me they use an advanced AI to predict everything before the season even starts. They use that information to prepare the viewers for the outcome, to make sure people are satisfied. And according to the AI, you were supposed to win this season. That’s what people and the producers want.”

Reese leans forward. “So?”

Rebecca exhales. “Well, the machine overlooked something. Then, it recalculated. And the result changed.”

“Changed how?”

She hesitates. “It predicted that we’d both make it to the finale. And then… you’d sacrifice yourself to let me win.”

Silence.

Rebecca continues. “You once told me that if we ever had to fight each other, I should go for your heart. Or your brain.”

Reese narrows his eyes, but remains reticent.

“Anya asked for my help. Well, she demanded it. She said it was important for the show’s ratings that you win. She told me I had to make you change your mind. That I needed to make you stop… caring about me.”

Anya had used the word love. But Rebecca couldn’t. It was too strong and painful.

“I don’t care about the ratings or any of that, but she was right about you sacrificing for me. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to carry the weight of your sacrifice.” She takes a deep breath. “Anya said only one person leaves this place alive, and I believe at least that part is true. I want you to win. I wouldn’t even know what to do with my life outside. They remove the fibers from the winner.”

Reese’s face pales. His eyes harden, his jaw tenses, his nostrils flare. Rebecca watches each of these shifting gestures as her heart races. There’s no trace of love or hope in Reese’s demeanor, only anger. And he still doesn’t seem willing to speak.

“Reese, what is it?”

Nothing.

“Please talk to me.”

After a few deep breaths, Reese swallows whatever emotion he’s repressing, and says:

“You sided with them.”

Rebecca didn’t expect that. “No.” She shakes her head and tries to grab his hand, but he pulls it away just in time. Nothing else comes to mind to back up her statement. Then he stands straight and turns around. By the time Rebecca realizes what’s happening, he’s already slammed the door closed and disappeared behind it.

Index

Here ends chapter six.
Get ready for chapter seven, "The Rupture."
I hope you're enjoying Live so far.
Thank you for reading!

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Index

#ExtraLog_003 - Fan Created Content

“Hello! Welcome to another episode of Liv’s Analyzing Live!

Today I want to talk about Reese, our beloved, beloved Reese. I know you’re worried about him. I know you all think he’s lost his head for that bitch, 42, and that he will let her win. I did too. I was worried too. But last night, after the episode, I checked all the previous episodes and old live streams and…

…I. Found. Something!

Guys, I didn’t sleep at all last night doing this research, and even though I’m exhausted now and I look like a zombie, it was worth it. Yes, it was worth it because what I found makes me so relieved for our boy. And now I’m going to share it with you.

But before I tell you my big revelation, guys, Drugobrand just sent me this lip balm, totally for free, as a gift, and I’m telling you, it’s amazing.

I want to start by saying that I’m not completely angry at Rebecca’s victory. I mean, she’s been a total bitch, and yeah, she’s been using our sweet Reese for her own selfish reasons, but I didn’t like the way she was chosen in the last episode. I mean, slut-shaming? Come on! This is not the twentieth century anymore. So, I’m kind of glad she won, but I hope she dies in tonight’s episode because she’s been manipulative and controlling toward Reese, and she doesn’t deserve his love.

Which brings me back to the purpose of this video and my big revelation! Guys, Reese… you have to stop worrying about him, you have to stop feeling sad for him, he is a winner, and after his music, his heart belongs to us, not that bitch.

What do I mean by this?

Guys, Reese doesn’t love Rebecca.

Now, hear me out. I know some of you will write comments saying things like: ‘How can he not love her? He is literally dying because of her.’ Yeah, yeah, yeah. But is he? What I mean is, Reese has the best ability out of all contestants, he knows he’s winning every battle. It’s not like his life is really at risk. Also, checking those old episodes, I found this. I’m not going to show you the clip here because of the copyright thing—I don’t want this video to be demonetized, of course. But I’ll leave you the link below, so you can go to minute 36 of the stream and hear it with your own ears.

As you can see, Reese is telling Rebecca he doesn’t want to win; he wants to become a legend. Guys, what bigger legend could there be than a guy who fought a thousand battles in the arena and won them all? And then, if you keep watching, you’ll hear him say that people love a villain, betrayal, and those sorts of things.

Get it now, guys?

Last but not least, if you click on this other video and go to minute 28, you’ll hear him telling Vanessa—yeah, do you remember her?—that he doesn’t need more fame or popularity. He says that after the season ends, he’ll be able to write songs that are totally different from his old ones—much better and more meaningful—and that’s exactly what he’s been looking for.

There’s a lot more that I could talk about, but these two moments are, for me, the most telling ones. And my conclusion is, everything Reese is doing, he’s not doing it for the stuck-up bitch—he’s doing it for himself. He doesn’t love her. He is not hurting right now.

He’s. Not. Going. To. Let. Her. Win.

There’s nothing to worry about. Reese is going to win this, and he won’t even remember Rebecca after the show is done. He’ll still have his music. He’ll have us. And we’ll have amazing new songs.

Well, guys, that’s all for today. I’m feeling a lot better for Reese after this. Now that we know he’s not suffering and that he’s not just a loser who lost his shit for some random skinny-ass bimbo. I hope you all have a great day or night, depending on what part of the world you’re watching this.

And Reese, stay strong!!

See you all in my next video. Bye-bye.”

Index

This chapter sure was fun to write.
I hope you enjoyed it ^^
Thank you for reading <3

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