Unknown: Now Alexis, that’s not how we play this game. You don’t get to accuse me of anything. Besides, you’re the one who’s guilty.
Me: The stuff I’m guilty of is mild compared to … whatever you’ve done to Blaine.
Unknown: I haven’t done anything to him yet, and I won’t as long as you play the game correctly.
Me: What damn game?
Unknown: The game where you find the guy you wish was your lover. It’s actually a pretty simple game. I give you clues, and if you solve them, you’ll find Blaine. You have a week to do it.
Me: And what if I can’t find him?
Unknown: Then everyone loses.
I grit my teeth from side to side until my jaw pops. This is such bullshit. I just need to go to the cops.
Unknown: And don’t even think of going to the police. Remember the dirt I have on you. On West. Think about what happened in the alley. How easy it was for us to get to you. How easy it is for us to watch you. We’ll know if you go to the police, and the moment you do, you’ll lose the game. And so will Blaine.
That dread I’ve felt since I saw the messages from Masie this morning spreads and nausea rises inside me. I swallow down the urge to vomit, though, and try to focus on fixing this.
Us? They’ve thrown out a hint, I think, without meaning to.
This is more than one person.
It kind of makes sense. With everything that’s happened, all the videos taken …
But, just when I think I’m getting somewhere, another video pings through.
Shaking my head in frustration, I push play.
Nothing could prepare me for what I see.
Because the video is of my parents, burying something that looks a lot like a body. They’re in the middle of the forest, it’s late, but the headlights of a vehicle shine on their faces, so I know it’s them.
My chest constricts, both panic and anger pounding through me.
Me: This video is edited.
Unknown: Think what you want. It’s not.
Me: Go to hell!
Unknown: Tsk. Tsk. That’s no way to talk to someone who has enough dirt to destroy everyone in your life. Now go to school and act like the good girl you’ve been pretending to be lately. But before you leave, look in the top nightstand of your drawer. I left your first clue there.
Vomit burns in my throat as I reach over and open the drawer. Lying inside is a photo of what looks like room located in a basement. In the middle of the room is a chair and on the chair is...
I swallow hard.
Blaine’s letterman jacket.
I flip over the photo and on the back is written: you want to find Blaine, figure out where this is.
My mind is racing a million miles a minute as I try to figure out how this photo got into the drawer. Then it dawns on me. The power briefly flickered on and off yesterday. Whenever we have power shortage, the house alarm turns off for a few seconds before switching over to the backup battery. But that barely leaves someone enough time to get into the house. Still, if they moved quickly enough, they might be able to get in. But what about getting out?
This doesn’t make any sense. Well, unless this person is either smart enough to shut down the house alarm or they know the code.
Panic rushes through me and I have to focus on breathing or else I’m going to have a panic attack.
Air in. Air out. Air in. Air out. Air in. Air out.
As my heart rate settles down, I look at the photo of my parents again.
This can’t be real. This person is lying.
My parents didn’t bury a body in the middle of the woods.
The video has to be edited.
It has to be.
Still, in the midst of my panic, I start saving the videos, knowing that this blackmailer might erase all the message. And I begin taking screenshots of the messages too. But they only give me time to save one video—the one of my parents—and only one screenshot—the one that basically said West did this to Blaine, so it’s not very useful.
From now on, I need to take screenshots as they text me. I make a mental note to do that and also find a way to make this house safer since this person seems to be able to get in and out of it. Then I set down the phone and drag my fingers through my hair.
I want to scream. I want to tell them to go to hell. I want to say I won’t play. But deep down, I know I don’t have a choice.
Needing to talk to someone, I call West. He doesn’t answer and, moments later, sends me a text.
West: Hey, something came up this morning, and I can’t make it to school. Sorry I can’t drive you, but I’ll talk to you soon, okay?
Me: What came up?
West: Just some stuff.
Wow, talk about vague. I can’t help thinking that perhaps this has to do with what I saw on the video. Not the part with Blaine, but with the drugs.
It annoys me that he won’t be straight with me, but I guess I should’ve known better. Everyone lies. Blaine, Masie, me. My parents.
I look down at my phone, at the file icon.
What did they do?
I’m not sure, but I’m going to figure it out.
And I’m going to save Blaine.
I’m going to play this game and win, no matter what it takes.