Page 117 of The Games Gods Play
Fear Is My Friend
The terror that wants to rip my guts out through my mouth on every scream is crippling, but I manage to take a breath. And then another.
“Did you lose a flag?” Diego asks.
It takes me at least two more breaths before I can force words through a jaw so stiff I could be a corpse. “Give me…a second.”
I focus on breathing. I can see the end of the tunnel, where there is a small light. We’re almost out. And my experiences—years in a place where I was forced to manage my fear or appear like the weakling all the other thieves thought I was—kick in harder with each breath. Thank the gods. Because fear isn’t debilitating. Not when you lean into it. Not when you listen to it for what it is. It’s a warning, your body’s way of telling you to live—to fight or flee or even sometimes freeze so that you survive.
Fear is a tool.
One I’ve been learning to use my entire life.
Granted, this fear is more than I’m used to, and it’s not coming from me, so I take the extra time to breathe through it. To let the adrenaline of it fill my muscles and instead of paralyzing me, galvanize me.
“Lyra?” Diego asks.
“I’m okay. I’m going to keep moving.”
“Okay.”
I position my body so that I can surge to my hands and knees and move fast. And when I do, that adrenaline is there, pumping through my veins, driving my muscles, and dulling the pain from all my bumps, bruises, and electric burns.
I keep crawling, and I don’t stop until I burst into the light. I still don’t stop, giving Diego enough room to get all the way out before I collapse to the ground, shuddering. I can see him as he drops next to me—he must have removed his ring.
The fear hasn’t stopped, even now that we’re safely out of the cave, resting in a small clearing. But I can contain it. I still have control. Sort of. I mean, my hands are in fists and my chest feels like there’s a boulder on it, but I’m not screaming or in a fetal position, so I consider that a win.
I guess if I had to lose a flag, that was the best one for me.
I roll my head in his direction. “You okay? Lose any flags?”
Diego shakes his head, then breaks out in a huge grin. “That’s two!” He holds up two fingers.
I laugh and groan at the same time, then roll to high-five him, only to grunt when he smacks one of my scorch marks.
He frowns. “I’m sorry.”
Come to think of it, every time that tunnel lit up, it was because I got zapped. “Did you get shocked at all?”
He gives a sheepish shake of his head.
We push to our feet and take one look at the next obstacle, and I have to pitch forward, hands on my knees, to contain the unnatural fear all over again.
The next obstacle appears to be a giant scrapyard with an obvious path right down the middle. Piles and piles of junk of all kinds. Metal scraps, crushed cars, tires. Mountains of them. There is a rusted metal arch indicating the entrance to this part of the challenge.
Something bad is going to happen the second we step inside. I just know it.
Honestly, if death wasn’t the result of not finishing this Labor, I’d cop a squat right here and wait until it’s all over. Tempting. Really tempting. But not today.
“Let’s keep going,” I say.
Diego nods.
I take a deep breath, readying for whatever horror is going to jump out at me from the billion hiding places in the junk mountain, and a swath of deep purple catches my eye from behind a rusted-out truck hull. Careful not to enter, I walk to the left leg of the arch to get a better view of Amir crouching behind the truck as he stuffs something in his mouth. Something white. He’s rocking as if he’s in horrible pain.
But before I can call to him, he jumps to his feet and sprints down the path. I guess I was wrong about the pain. He’s moving just fine, even with his boot on.
“Let’s go.” Diego tugs on me, and we enter the obstacle together.
