THE GAME

THE GAME - Summer Haque (Fairmont Schools, Eighth Grade)

Ezra clutched his phone tightly in his hands, his fingers tapping along the steering wheel

of his car. He nodded as the gruff voice on the other end of the line repeated instructions he had

heard many times before. His eyes trailed down to the reddened skin beneath the clear liquid

bandage smeared across his inner wrist. He smiled, recollecting the needle inking his skin,

marking it permanently, just like they had wanted.

“Yes, I know. I was supposed to have her yesterday.”

Ezra pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing under his breath.

“Trust me, it’ll be perfect.” He smirked, as his eyes trailed over to Mila. “She won’t know

what's coming.”

* * *

Mila pushed through the double doors and exited the nearly empty school parking lot.

Pulling her hoodie tighter around her body, she crossed the street to begin the long walk home.

Goosebumps rose on the back of her neck with each step. She quickened her stride as she saw a

sleek, matte black sports car slowly approaching her.

“Hey, do you need a ride?” a boy, about Mila’s age called out through the window of his

car, flashing a grin.

Mila averted her eyes and tried to subtly move further from the car.

She heard the door click open and her thoughts raced. Should she run back toward school

or try to make it home? She froze when she heard him step out of the car and call out to her

again.

“Mila, right?”

Mila paused and turned to look him in the eye, trying to get a hold of her racing heart.

Her eyes trailed over his features. She felt her shoulders relaxing as she watched this stranger

lean casually against the driver side door, placing an arm on the roof. He didn’t look threatening.

In fact, he looked vaguely familiar.

Mila’s breath caught in her throat, “Ezra? I haven’t seen you since you moved. I almost

didn’t recognize you! I guess we’ve all changed since middle school.”

They stood there with the heavy wind blowing, the only sound keeping them from

complete silence.

“Well, what are you doing back?” Mila spoke just above a whisper.

Ezra cleared his throat,“Oh, I’m visiting my uncle. He lives here.”

She nodded through the awkward stilted conversation. Clearing her throat, she motioned

toward the road in front of her. “Great seeing you! I should get home before dark.”

“I can give you a ride. You still live in the same house?” Ezra asked.

She paused for a moment, weighing her options. Ezra had always been an outsider, a little

strange even. But she had grown up with the guy. Despite the chill that ran down her spine when

she looked in his flat, dark eyes, she figured she’d be safer in his car than walking along the

deserted road.

Mila stepped toward his car, “That’d be great.”

Ezra opened the passenger door and she climbed in.

As she settled into the seat, she took in the customized interior. Her fingers ran over the

checkerboard pattern of the fabric, noting the blood red stitching.

The rev of the powerful engine flipped her attention back to Ezra. He settled his left wrist

on the steering wheel and pulled out onto the street.

“You a chess player?” Mila smiled, pointing to the queen tattooed on his wrist, visible

beneath the transparent bandage.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He was caught off-guard and swallowed sharply.

“Why the queen?”

“Well, the queen can move much more freely than the king. It’s supposed to symbolize

power and flexibility.”

“Power. Cool. I like it.” She grinned, but her smile dropped as his face settled into sharp

lines, almost as if a switch had flipped. Perhaps his tattoo was too personal and he didn’t want to

talk about it? Either way, she started to feel uneasy as the car continued forward.

The deafening silence was broken when she heard the click of the lock engaging.

Without warning Ezra made a sharp turn, jerking her body against the seat belt. Small

waves of panic stirred in her belly.

“Uh, you were supposed to take a left, not a right.”

Ezra pushed the gas pedal down further.

The engine roared as he began driving faster towards the woods.

Mila’s sweaty palms grabbed at her seat belt and door handle, desperately trying to find a

way out of the car. It was pointless. She was trapped.

Ezra clenched his jaw tightly, saying nothing. Tears streamed down Mila’s face.

She could barely make out the narrow road that they drove on. As they continued to

drive, it started to get darker and darker as the thick trees swallowed up the moonlight. Her eyes

darted around trying to find anything visible other than trees. She turned toward the window; the

headlights projected shadows all around her. The branches looked like claws reaching out and

moving as they drove by.

Ezra suddenly slammed on the brakes, forcing her attention back to the windshield. Her

eyebrows creased in confusion as she made out a decrepit and abandoned-looking cabin through

the harsh beam of the headlights. The freshly added planks of wood covering the windows were

in stark contrast to the rotting termite-infested exterior. It looked as if a gust of wind would cause

it to collapse.

Ezra opened his door and walked in front of the car, crossing over to her. Mila scrambled

to the driver’s side, frantically trying to disengage the locks. She screamed as she felt large, cold

fingers squeeze her ankles and tug. Her sweaty palms tried to grasp anything to keep him from

removing her from the car.

“Quiet,” Ezra finally spoke and she felt plastic tightening around her ankles, locking

them together. Mila felt her body drag across the center console and fall onto the muddy forest

floor.

Keeping his back to her he leaned into the glove compartment. Mila helplessly tugged at

the zip ties. Ezra yanked her right wrist toward him, twisting her arm so that her palm was facing

up.

Her eyes widened in terror as she saw him brandish a hot iron stamp.“No! No! Please,

Ezra. I'm your friend” Mila sobbed, “Please.”

“This would all be much easier if you were quiet,” he snapped as he pressed the

scorching metal onto her wrist. She wanted to gag as the smell of her burning flesh filled the air.

She could feel blood trickling down her forearm.

Mila shrieked in pain, her body spasming as tears flowed off her face and onto her

sweatshirt, “Why?!”

Ezra tossed the tool back into the glove compartment and kept his large hand gripping

Mila’s wrist, “Please, please let me go! I-I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Without warning, he hauled her body so she flopped over his forearm as he stood. His

elbow dug into her side as he began dragging her like a limp ragdoll. As Ezra pushed the front

door open with his shoulder, the wood creaked beneath their weight. The smell of mold and must

was so strong she felt like she could taste it.

Mila’s eyes were drawn to her throbbing, branded wrist. Smeared blood surrounded her

puckered red skin.

“A pawn?” She looked at Ezra’s face, “And you're... the queen. You don’t play chess, do

you...”

Taking advantage of Mila’s distracted gaze, Ezra quickly pulled an interior door open and

shoved her inside, causing her to fall to her knees. She banged her uninjured hand against the

door that refused to budge.

“Ezra! EZRA! What the heck! This isn’t funny, let me out!”

Minutes had gone by with no response from Ezra and she finally turned around to face

the room. Four other teens faced her, with pawns branded onto their wrists.

Mila’s eyes widened as the color fled her face, “What the-”

A familiar voice crackled through a speaker on the ceiling, “Welcome to the game,” there

was a sickening pause, “Mila.”