Deviant

Chapter 9

Rowen

Ever since my recent talks with Joe and unsuccessful encounter with Father O’Sullivan, I’ve become obsessed with the games. So much so that after my shift at Rosie’s, I’ve spent most of my afternoons here at the town library inside city hall just trying to dig up any information about the Harvest Dozen and The Scourge.

Usually, when someone wants to learn more about a given topic, they’d search online for it. But when it comes to our small town’s macabre tradition, the internet is completely bare of such intel.

It kind of makes you wonder just how powerful the people behind the games truly are.

The only conclusion I can make is they must be very powerful.

And rich.

Rich enough to not lose sleep over funding the whole town.

They must also be tied to some kind of criminal organization.

Even with all the limited funds and means in the world, you would still need to be well-connected to be able to contract killers to deal with deserters and whistleblowers.

Of course, all of this is just a mere speculation. I don’t have any tangible proof to back up my theories. Aside from a few ledgers and journals stored in the library, there really isn’t much to go by on the subject, much less prove anything.

Not that this town is eager to get to the bottom of things.

Even the few books I’ve found were all carefully hidden away in the urban myths section of the library.

I’m not sure why a cloak-and-dagger routine is necessary to hide such a stain in Blackwater Falls’ history. It’s not like it’s a secret what happens here every harvest season. I’d expect such deceptive actions if our town received tourists or out-of-town visitors, but we don’t.

In fact, if anyone searched for Blackwater Falls on a map, they wouldn’t find us.

It’s like we don’t even exist.

No one knows we’re here.

And that’s probably how the organizers of the games prefer it to stay.

“Do you need anything else?” Ms. Stevens, the librarian, asks, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose so she can take a peek at the scribbles I’ve made on my notebook.

“No, I think I have all I need.” I smile at her while covering my notes with my arm.

It’s the fourth time today that she’s come over to my table just to check on me.

“That’s a lot of heavy reading for one so young,” she adds with a frown.

“I think I can handle it.” My fake smile broadens.

“I don’t mean to pry, Rowen. It’s just that you’ve been coming here every day for the past week, and well, it’s normal for a person to be curious. Are you worried that your name might get called? Is that why you want to brush up on the Harvest Dozen lore?”

Not worried.

Anticipating it.

“It couldn’t hurt to read more about the subject.”

“I guess not.” She smiles meekly. “I must admit, when I was your age, I spent plenty of time in this very library reading about the subject, too. Though, there was a year where I wasn’t the only one.”

“Oh?”

“I probably shouldn’t say anything since your father doesn’t like people talking about her, but your mom used to come here a lot before… well… you know.”

Before she was selected.

“She did?” I ask in astonishment since this is the first time I’m hearing of it. “I didn’t know that.”

Why didn’t my father ever tell me?

“It’s true,” Ms. Stevens nods. “At first, I thought nothing of it. Since your mom was a schoolteacher, I just assumed she spent her free time at the library checking out books for her class. But then, one day, while searching for the ledger you’re currently reading, I noticed that your mom had checked it out before I had the chance to do so. At the time, it didn’t register to me why she would want to read such a thing, but then the Harvest Festival came along… and well… it’s almost as if she had a premonition of being chosen that year.”

I swallow dryly, a cold chill running down my spine as I stare at the book in front of me.

“I… I don’t remember much about that time,” I reply, feeling a bit shaken up by the fact that my mother also read this book.

“Of course you don’t. You were just a toddler back then. But look at you now. I’m sure wherever she is, your mother must be so proud of you.” Ms. Stevens smiles warmly at me.

I doubt it.

If my father isn’t, then she definitely wouldn’t be either.

I don’t remember much of my mother. Aside from a few photographs my father kept around the house, my memories of her feel like foggy dreams. But every once in a while, someone brings her name up and tells me stories of what an amazing woman she was—funny, adventurous, and an amazing teacher who loved her students. But most of all, that she was a loving wife and a devoted mother, and that the day I was born was the happiest she had ever been.

Sometimes, I think the reason I don’t remember her is to shield myself from the pain of not having grown up with her in my life.

One thing I do know, though.

The reason behind her absence traumatized me in such a way that I became this fearful pathetic thing. And because of it, I made the gravest mistake of all. One that if she were alive, she’d never forgive.

Sensing that Ms. Stevens is still staring at me, I offer her another fabricated smile and thank her for her help.

“Well, if you need me, you know where I’ll be.” She grins, pointing to the reception desk.

“Thank you,” I repeat, waiting for her to return to her post before I crack the book open.

But now that my mind is muddled with thoughts about my mother, I can’t focus on any of it.

Not that it really matters.

This ledger only contains the names of people who were selected, paired with their date of birth and gender. There’s not much useful information to derive from it.

I keep flipping page after page in frustration while thinking my best shot of getting some actual answers would be talking to Father O’Sullivan again.

Maybe if I try enough times, I’ll eventually get him on a good day and get him to talk to me.

I have to try.

As I’m about to give up on my reading, something grabs my attention—a little handwritten note on the margin of the ledger.

This doesn’t track.

Double-check.

It’s not the wording that grabs my attention but the handwriting itself.

I would know it anywhere.

It’s Nora’s.

She read this same ledger.

I quickly go to the name she’s pointed out to check for further information.

Year: 2004

Name: Patrick O’Sullivan

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: December 5th 1973.

I immediately connect the dots—the entry that Nora highlighted is about Father O’Sullivan. But most importantly, she was quick to notice that he had already aged out by the time he was selected for the games.

Father O’Sullivan was thirty years old when he got chosen.

This means the rumors about him finding a way to be selected are true.

He’s the key.

It’s like Nora is leading me to the path I must take to achieve my goal. All I have to do is follow her breadcrumbs.

I shake my head, angry at myself for not having thought about this sooner.

Before I sought to be selected, there was someone else who was just as gung-ho about being chosen for the Harvest Dozen—Nora.

I can still remember the exact moment she made up her mind and decided her fate. It feels like it was just yesterday. But it wasn’t. It was more than a year ago that Nora set the wheels of our future in motion.

I’m jolted from my deep sleep by the low murmurs drifting in from the living room. One moment, I’m nestled in Nora’s bed, and the next, I’m wide awake, realizing she’s no longer asleep beside me. I wait a few minutes, thinking she’s just gone to the bathroom or is getting a glass of water from the kitchen, but when she doesn’t return, and the murmurs grow more pronounced, I decide to get up and check on her.

“She’s getting worse,” I hear my best friend say, sadness and anxiety coating her every word.

“I know,” Elias’s low timber voice replies.

“She needs care, E. Optimal care that Blackwater Falls just doesn’t have.”

“Fuck, Nora, don’t you think I know that?” he grumbles in frustration.

I hear my best friend sigh as I walk further down the hall, closer to the living room.

“We have to do something. We can’t just let her wither away like this.”

“And what do you suggest we do? Put her on the back of my bike and leave town?”

“And why the hell not?” Nora says angrily. “At least it might give her a chance.”

“If I did that, you’d be out of a mom and an older brother. They’d kill us before we even made it out of the state.”

“You don’t know that,” she says sheepishly.

Even though I can’t see her, hidden away in the corridor, I know she’s chewing nervously on her bottom lip.

“We do know that. Tell me one person who has left this godforsaken place and lived to tell the tale?”

Silence befalls the room while my anxiety shoots up, knowing exactly what Nora must be thinking.

“The winner of the games gets to leave. They and their family are given permission to go and never come back.”

“Fuck. Not this again, Nora,” Elias grumbles, and I imagine him running his fingers through his disheveled jet-black hair.

“Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not, but what good will that do us, huh? Putting our faith in winning an unwinnable game? I don’t like those odds.”

“There’s always a winner,” she spews back with conviction.

“And eleven losers. Eleven dead bodies, to be more precise.”

“You always were a glass-half-empty type of guy, big brother,” she goads, trying to lighten the tense mood.

“No. What I am is a realist.”

“I prefer my way of thinking. At least it will give Mom a shot.”

“Don’t you think I want that too?” he says, sounding almost hurt. “I just don’t think being delusional helps us in any way. The Scourge is not the way we get to save our mother from dying a slow and painful death.”

“Don’t say it like that, E.” She grimaces.

“Sorry,” he replies, sounding genuinely apologetic, which is a first for Elias since he’s not known to apologize for anything.

Nora’s older brother has always been a conundrum to me. One I can’t quite figure out.

He’s neither friendly nor kind. Nothing like Nora.

He’s neither fun nor outgoing. Nothing like Aidan.

He’s a black cloud in an otherwise clear blue sky, reminding us that life is never perfect.

He’s real.

Honest.

And honesty can sometimes be ugly and cruel.

I always admired that about Elias.

Even when Nora says his brutal honesty is his worst quality, I always thought it was his best.

He’s real in a town full of fake people.

“We’ll find a way to help her, Nora. Just trust me, okay? You just need to be patient with me,” he pleads with her.

“And if you can’t?”

When he doesn’t reply, she knows his answer.

If he can’t find a way to get their mother the hospital care she needs, then their mom is as good as dead.

“You have a month, E. That’s it. If you can’t save her, I will.”

“For fuck’s sake, Nora. How the fuck do you intend to do that?”

“Easy. I’ll get chosen.”

To this, he lets out a scorn-filled cackle.

“Right. Cause that’s how it works. You just get chosen because you say so. Not only that, but you intend to win The Scourge when men bigger and stronger than you never return from it.”

“Hey, just because they’re bigger doesn’t make them smarter. I could win. No, scratch that, I will win.”

“No, you won’t!” he shouts furiously, finally losing his temper. “Just fucking forget this half-brain plan of yours and use that energy to spend quality time with Mom. That’s what she needs from us. Not idiotic ideas of getting yourself killed to save her. Or do you think she would survive you being chosen for the Harvest Dozen? Cause newsflash, baby sister, she wouldn’t. She’d die of a broken heart long before her disease could kill her.”

“She might.” Nora’s shaky voice is barely above a whisper. “Or she might fight it a little longer because I’m giving her hope.”

“Hope?” he repeats the word like a cruel joke. “Hope has no business in Blackwater Falls. You know that.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe hope is exactly what this town needs. What we need. What Mom needs.”

I hear Elias let out an exaggerated exhale, sounding tired and exhausted with this topic of conversation.

“It’s late, Nora. How about we talk about this in the morning?” Elias retorts, no longer willing to continue this discussion with his sister. “I’ll stay here with Mom for the rest of the night. I’ll wake you if she worsens.”

“Fine. Whatever,” Nora responds with a bite.

“Nora?” Elias pleads before she leaves him alone in the living room. “Just let me handle this, okay? I’ve been taking care of this family all my life. Just trust me when I say I know what I’m doing. I’ll find a way to help Mom. Just give me some time, okay?”

“Whatever you say, big brother. Just know that if you can’t step up and do what needs to be done, I will.”

With that ominous remark still hanging between them, I run back to Nora’s room, able to leave without being caught eavesdropping on such an intimate conversation. I jump into bed, my heart still racing from what I overheard, trying to make sense of all of it. A few seconds later, Nora enters the room and closes the door behind her.

“I know you’re awake, Roe,” she says, unimpressed with me trying to pull a fast one on her.

“Sorry,” I mumble and push the comforter away, lifting my knees to my chin and hugging them to my chest.

“I’m sick and tired of that word,” she spits out, sitting next to me. “That’s all I ever hear lately. Sorry that we can’t do more for your mother. Sorry that she’s dying before your very eyes. Sorry that we have few resources to help her relieve her pain. Sorry… sorry… sorry… . I’m so fucking over that word,” she all but shouts, her whole body trembling in anger.

“Hey,” I comfort her, quickly wrapping my arm around her trembling shoulders, “It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s’ not, Roe. Nothing will ever be okay if my mom dies. She’s the glue that holds this family together. Without her… I have no idea what will become of us.”

I want to remind her that she still has her dad, but we both know that having Nora’s dad or none at all is the same thing.

“Elias will never leave you,” I say assuredly because it’s true.

Elias may hate Aidan for some reason, but Nora is his whole world. Much like she is mine.

Aidan might be my boyfriend, but he doesn’t hold a candle to Nora.

I love her with all my heart. She’s the better part of me. The one that is daring and brave.

I’m a mouse. A scared little mouse. Never wanting to rock the boat for fear that it may tip over and drown me completely.

Nora… is fearless. She’s a force of nature, just like Elias. It’s awe-inspiring. And terrifying.

“I know that,” Nora says, pulling me out of my thoughts. “But I need more from him, and right now, I can’t count on E to do what needs to be done. He’s just too… “ Psychotic? Unhinged? Hot? “Set in his ways,” she finishes. “It’s not his fault. With him trying to keep a roof over our heads all year round, he’s got too much on his plate as it is. I know he’s had to grow up fast and become the responsible adult around here, but that also means he’s seeing things way too pragmatically for my liking. We should be thinking outside of the box, but I fear my big brother has become way too sensible in his old age.”

If the air in the room wasn’t so tense, I would have laughed at Nora’s suggestion of Elias being old and sensible.

Elias is only twenty-three, so hardly old. And sensible… I could think of a million other adjectives to describe him before that one popped into my head. And even then, I wouldn’t use it.

“I need a fucking miracle. And to get that, I need to do something that he won’t agree with,” Nora whispers to herself, a cold chill running down my spine at the determination I see in her clear blue eyes.

“You weren’t actually serious, were you? You’re not talking about The Scourge? Please tell me you just said that to your brother to scare him into action?”

She grows silent, making my anxiety multiply tenfold.

“No.” I shake my head. “You can’t.”

“Roe,” she supplicates, seeing the terror in my eyes. “I still have three months to bulk up a little more, but you know that I’m strong. And I’m quick, too. I’m fast and clever. And I don’t get scared easily. I’m a perfect candidate. I know I can win the games.”

“But it’s not up to you,” I reply hurriedly, not wanting her to entertain such an idea. “You can’t volunteer for The Scourge. You have to be picked. You know that.”

She goes into deep thought, her lips thinning into a fine line.

“There are always loopholes to everything in life. And if the games have one, I’ll find it.”

My God.

She’s serious.

She’s actually serious.

“You’ll die, Nora,” I let out a pathetic cry, my fear getting the best of me. “You’ll die.”

She runs the back of her hand over my cheeks, my eyes watering as she does it.

“I won’t die. But what I will do is save my mother. Not only that, after I win, we can finally leave this wretched place. Don’t you want that?”

“What you’re saying is that win or lose, I’ll lose you either way,” I continue to sob.

“No, you won’t,” Nora coos, pushing my head to lay on her shoulder. “Not if you marry Aidan after the Harvest Festival. You’ll be family. And that means you can come with us when we leave.”

“And live the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders?”

“Do you prefer to stay here? A hostage in your own hometown?”

When I don’t say anything in return, she smiles and starts brushing my hair with her fingers.

“It’s a good plan, Roe. I know you don’t see it right now, but it is. Just think, if you marry Aidan, no one will ever be able to tear us apart. Don’t you see? It’s a win-win.”

The idea of marrying Aidan doesn’t tempt me one bit, so I would hardly call it a win.

Lately, I’ve been thinking that he and I just make sense on paper, nothing else.

But losing Nora in any capacity won’t do. I’d marry Aidan in a heartbeat if that meant getting out of Blackwater Falls with her.

Hell, I’d even marry Elias if he would have me.

In fact, I’d actually prefer it.

But Nora can’t win.

Yes, she’s fast, but even I’m faster than her.

Yes, she’s strong, but compared to any red-blooded adult male, she’s just as fragile as any teenage girl.

She’s clever, to be sure, but even I see when Aidan pulls a fast one on her.

No.

She can’t win.

She won’t win.

Which means if she does find a way to be chosen, she’ll die.

And her mom would die, too.

And so would I.

Nora leans in and presses a sweet kiss on my lips, silencing all the horrors in my head.

“Sleep, sweet Roe. And dream about all the grand things we will do together once we’re free.”

But instead of dreams, all I have are nightmares.

And instead of freedom… all I see is death.