Rebecca jolts awake to a sudden, violent shudder. The deep, rhythmic thumping drowns out every other sound in the Live compound—slow at first, then faster, harder. The whump-whump-whump of something massive, like blades carving through the sky, rattles the windows in Reese’s room.

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t know.” Reese’s gaze shifts to the ceiling, one arm still draped around Rebecca’s neck.

  “Did you…?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Do you think it’s just a coincidence?”

  Reese doesn’t answer right away. His frown deepens as he keeps staring upward. “Yeah, I figure.” But he doesn’t sound convinced.

  They throw on whatever they find—Reese in a clean pair of boxers, Rebecca in Reese’s pajama top—and step onto the balcony. Above them, two massive helicopters, each stamped with the word "Live," circle the perimeter. Then, just as abruptly as they arrived, they vanish.

  Reese and Rebecca stay on the balcony a moment longer, watching the empty sky. Something about it feels wrong.

  Neither of them says anything.

  They go back inside, Rebecca pulls on her own clothes and heads to her room for a quick shower. Reese tells her they’ll meet later. They part with a kiss, both still struggling to shake off the shock.

  Rounding a corner, she almost collides with Lena. Her face lights up when she looks up and sees Rebecca. She’s smiling, but her eyes aren’t. Her normally pink cheeks have taken on a greenish pallor. Dark circles ring her eyes, and it doesn’t look like she washed off her mascara last night. She looks utterly exhausted, her movements jerky and nervous.

  “I finally found you,” Lena says, her fingers twisting a stray lock of her blonde hair.

  “Did you see the helicopters?”

  “Yeah,” Lena replies, though she’s not nearly as impressed as Rebecca. Then she adds, “Rebecca—” a moment of hesitation. “I… I need to talk to you.”

  Rebecca frowns, worried, and gestures for Lena to continue. The helicopters leave her mind completely.

  Lena spills out her confession in a voice that rises to a higher pitch than usual, her hands trembling. "Maybe you already know this, but I've been uploading content non-stop," she begins, running a hand over her forehead. "Trying to get fans, to get upvotes."

  Rebecca blinks a couple of times. She’s starting to understand where Lena’s desperate state comes from. She’s getting obsessed with becoming popular, and how could she not? Unlike Rebecca, it's her only lifeline to avoid the arena.

  “The thing is, I… I saw Reese and Contestant 22 talking in the training room yesterday,” Lena blurts out, her voice cracking. “I… I want to tell my followers.”

  Rebecca’s blood turns to ice. Her request screams danger; throwing fuel onto the already volatile flames of Reese’s fans could easily escalate their situation into chaos.

  “Lena, don’t,” Rebecca urges, stepping forward, fighting the impulse to grab Lena by the arms and shake that insane idea out of her. “It’s… it’s a bad plan. It could get all of us in trouble.”

  Lena shakes her head, eyes wide with a desperate plea, the corners welling with tears. "I need this, Rebecca," she whispers, her hands clasped tightly together in a gesture of supplication, as if she were praying for salvation. "Nobody's going to fight for me. I need the popularity... I really, really don't want to fight." Her gaze drifts to the floor, unable to meet Rebecca's eyes any longer.

  "It’s either that or—” her cheeks turn bright red “—other things that I just can’t…” She stops there, but Rebecca gets the message, and it sickens her.

  She gasps for air. The ventilation system rumbles above her head, but the corridor feels suffocating. The lights, white and fluorescent, burn her scalp. They’re too bright. Too exposing. They mark every line in Lena’s young face.

  Rebecca doesn’t know what to say. Lena’s request sounds like someone is going to get hurt—either Rebecca or herself.

  "It's not gossip, Rebecca," Lena insists, finally looking up. "It's... the only strategy I can think of. People want to know. They're obsessed with Reese and you... they live through Reese and you. They say they’re watching out for you through me. They know we’re close. Don't you see how brilliant this is? I'm sure this is what will keep me alive." As she speaks, her hands gesture wildly, her phone clutched in one of them.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Rebecca sighs. She rubs her face, then runs her hands through her hair. In her opinion, this doesn’t sound like the strategic maneuvering of a cunning opponent. It sounds like the desperate grasp of a drowning woman clinging to a flimsy raft. The game is having its typical effect on her, warping her personality and draining her spirit. The competitive drive that once fueled her now seems to be tearing her apart from within.

  “Tell me what you heard,” Rebecca says softly, her tone shifting to match Lena’s fragile state. She needs to at least understand the specifics before offering any meaningful advice.

  Lena takes a deep breath, her chest heaving slightly.

  "Contestant 22... she told Reese a bunch of stuff," she begins, her tone taking on a more relaxed edge. "That he was a jerk, selfish and cruel..." She pauses, guilt showing in her eyes as she looks away from Rebecca’s. "And that she didn't believe he was in love with you."

  Once again, her gaze drops to the floor, and her voice falls to a cracking whisper. "She said no one falls in love that fast, that love isn’t even real. Said it was all... a show."

  A painful silence falls, accompanied, as always, by the nausea-inducing theme song of the show.

  Rebecca feels a knot tighten in her stomach as she realizes Vanessa followed her advice after all. More than ever, leaving this house—where all eyes seem to be focused on her—feels like the only thing she desires in the world.

  Lena continues, still unable to lift her eyes from her feet. "Reese... he didn’t argue. He didn’t try to convince her. He just... asked her to leave him alone. Said he needed to keep training."

  She pauses, her gaze drifting off, probably expecting Rebecca to lash out or react in some way.

  Rebecca offers Lena a small, sad smile.

  "Do what you think is best, Lena," she says, her voice gentle but firm. There’s no easy answer, after all. No right choice. Nothing is right in this twisted game.

  With quiet resolve, she turns and walks away. It’s already getting late for breakfast, and her stomach growls just then.

  When she reaches the dining hall, the place is practically empty. Reese isn’t there either.

  She sits alone and eats as much as she can, trying not to think too much about Lena’s decision. She’ll probably end up doing whatever she wants, no matter what Rebecca tells her.

  After breakfast, Rebecca heads to the training room but stays only a moment. She never even starts her session. Instead, she finds refuge in a secluded corner of the locker room. The pungent smell of sweat and humidity catches in her throat, but it doesn’t divert her focus

  For hours, she reviews archived footage of past Live seasons—this time, specifically season seven. Fans agree it was a season to remember. There were fewer battles and plenty of off-camera deaths. A lot of contestants got sick, too. Coincidentally, every single contestant that year was hated by the viewers. The show did a great job framing them as monsters, and the audience was more than happy to throw hate at them.

  Though she uncovers almost nothing new today—just the same conspiracy theories and fan speculations—she finds purpose in the act of searching itself. The process of analyzing and cross-referencing data imposes order on an otherwise chaotic situation

  There’s one little detail, though, that not only supports her theory, it takes it even further. Every season of the show, no matter what happens or how odd the circumstances are, has always lasted two months.

  A ping from her phone cuts off the thought. A new notification. Lena just uploaded a video.

  It starts with a close-up of her face. The harsh lighting of the Live compound casts shadows that accentuate the exhaustion in her features. She’s redone her mascara, and her hair now looks straight and shiny, but neither hides her unease. The vulnerability in her eyes cuts deeper than the illusion of her long, curled eyelashes.

  “Hey, guys…” she says, her unnaturally high-pitched voice still cracking. She’s forcing a smile again, but the wrinkle between her eyebrows—etched from too much frowning—won’t fade. “I… I need to tell you something. Something really important that I’m sure you’re dying to hear. You won’t believe what I found out about Reese and Rebecca.”

  She pauses, her gaze drifting to the side as if reading from a set of cue cards. A single tear traces a path down her cheek, leaving a glistening trail on her skin. She dabs at it with a trembling hand. Rebecca feels the urge to go find her and hug her… if only she weren’t talking about her.

  “It’s something I heard… something about Reese’s feelings for Rebecca. I’m sure that’s the question we all have, isn’t it? Whether he really feels what he says he feels or not.” She swallows hard. “To me, he’s a complete mystery. Unlike Rebecca—you can totally tell she’s a smitten kitten. Anyway, I’m not sure if what I’m about to say is true, but here’s what I heard… and you guys, you decide…”

  She leans closer to the camera, dropping her voice to a whisper. The shaky footage reveals a faint glint in her eye—a hint of steel, or perhaps just the reflection of the unforgiving fluorescent light.

  “Yesterday, Reese was confronted by Contestant 22,” she says. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall her name; I never really talk to her, but feel free to remind me in the comments. The thing is, she accused him of faking his feelings for Rebecca, of putting on a show just to entertain you all. And he…” Lena pauses, taking a deep breath. “He didn’t deny it.”

  She shrugs and shakes her head, faking concern. Unless that’s how she really feels.

  “Poor Becca. From where I was standing, it seemed like the only thing Reese cares about…” She moves the phone closer again, the camera zooming in on her lips, “is winning as many battles as possible.”

  Rebecca shivers despite the warmth of the locker room.

  Lena bids farewell to her followers with a warm, yet impossibly fake, smile. She thanks them for watching her video and tells them to stay tuned for more breathtaking news.

  Rebecca feels it in her bones—this will ignite a firestorm on social media.

  She swallows her tears, ready to hurl her phone at the nearest wall but stops herself at the last second. Instead, she resumes her search as a distraction. She scans the words on the screen, but she’s unable to grasp their meaning. Her thoughts are miles away.