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.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “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.