“You know I don’t fuck around with that satanic shit,” Eddie says, sitting up through a cloud of cigarette smoke. He grimaces and clutches broken ribs through the brown flannel shirt I’ve lent him. His bandages bulge underneath.
I am homesick, reader- ready to return to my old life on the Wayside. There are dangers there, of course, but there is also space to run from them. Given a room to live in I have begun to claw at the walls like a cornered animal. Given friends I have begun to tear them apart. Sometimes I dream about Veronica and her red door. I dream that I am trapped inside the freezer like so much meat.
I relax my fingers when I feel my nails digging into my palms.
I regard Eddie through the smoke.
“Suit yourself,” I tell him, “But I saw it clear as day- Sebastian pushed the shelf over.”
The cheese itches under my shirt where the top peels away and tugs on the hairs of my chest. I smell it, faintly, in the air that pushes out from my collar. It is rotting.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says, “Sebastian wrote the game.”
There is a moment’s silence between us before he leans forward and reaches for me. I stop him, afraid of revealing Brendan’s talisman.
“I got the letter today,” I tell him, “Seasonal work has ended.”
“Shit,” he says.
“If Sebastian wants me out…”
“You don’t need to stock shelves to play the game.”
“Won’t be able to afford it for long,” I remind him, “You’ve seen how I play. So I’m thinking, if Sebastian already wants me out…”
“Fuck that.”
“If Sebastian wants me out, if he thinks I’m screwing with the game, why not just admit it and head off?”
“It’s not fucking fair,” he says, “That’s why. It’s a slight to your fucking honor, dude.”
“I don’t care what they think,” I lie, “And you’ll know why I’m leaving. Let me do this for you, man. As a friend.”
Eddie huffs and picks and his nailbeds but I know he misses the game.
“Get the guys together this Friday,” I tell him, “I’ll ‘come clean’ and bow out, no problem.”
He is quiet for a long time and when he finally does speak he points to one of the discarded Traitors on the table and shakes his head and smiles.
“Fucking Sebastian,” he laughs, “That thing doesn’t look anything like you.”
-traveler
