The next morning Mark brought me breakfast, not surprisingly. But I ate contentedly, all the while knowing that I had screwed up in too many ways. We sat in the workshop, on opposite sides on the table trying to bear the fierce tension.

"I should have never said anything at all."

Mark looked up at me; the countenance he wore was apologetic.

"Don't beat yourself. I often feel I shouldn't have said anything to you…but I'm glad I did."

"Why's that?"

"Everybody deserves a chance; A chance to know what's going on inside the people around them. You needed to know the truth."

"Honestly, I didn't. I think I was fine before you twisted everything."

"Oh come on, we both know that if I didn't divert your attention while you were having your little fit over John, you would've wound up back in that little bathroom, slumped down against the wall, having another panic attack. Don't think I didn't know."

"If you recall, I was having that panic attack because of you."

"Amusing...I have some effect on you. So much for controlling your emotions."

I rose swiftly and walked off towards my partition, my back to him, I replied smartly:

"You couldn't affect me if you tried." Oh, it had become such a game.

Thinking back now, I guessed that his pride on that matter overwhelmed him. I should've known Mark to be someone who liked to be in control; to be able to get the best of people, John knew that too. Do I regret provoking him? Not a Mark was up, and holding me. Though he held me securely, I wasn't struggling. And just before he leaned in completely, he gave me some space to decide; unlike before when he'd forcibly kissed. He was fighting with his sense of control, and I had only seconds to decide. I understood well that ever action has its consequence. Every kiss has its after-thought. Every emotion has its smoldering embers. Nothing can burn forever, I knew.

And so, taking advantage of my flame, I closed the gap between us with a quick breath and a low moan.

He let go of my shoulder and then held my hand with his right one, lacing our fingers together; I put my free hand on the back of his neck, and we intensified. My whole body trembled as his warm breaths beguiled me. I surrendered under him, his figure pressing me against the wall. I wondered briefly and excitedly how far we could take this. And when he led me into my room, my question was answered.

"Mark." My voice came breathlessly. I turned my head off of his eager lips, "Hold on."

"Hmm?" Not much of a sound escaped from him as his kiss trailed to my neckline. I nearly forgot what I was about to say. It took all my power to pull myself out of his grip and speak.

"Do you wanna wait for a second?"

He picked his head up, "To be very honest, no." I grinned, looking away.

"I…" I hesitated, embarrassed. It was so hard to be intimate with honest feelings. It was always much easier to lay on my back, shut up and close out the world. Face to face with someone that was truly growing on me? I didn't know how to handle it. Sex without love was undoubtably easier. "I've never done this with somebody who wasn't going to pay me. I'm having some trouble...letting go."

He considered, "I'm sorry?"

"Don't tell me you forgot…" I pulled away completely, the blood rose in my cheeks hotly.

"I didn't, I just… didn't see you as that person anymore. The old you."

I did't know exactly how to thank him for what he had just said, but was the first time I had really felt renewed and relieved of my past.

-

When John returned, he was with Amanda. Calling me aside, he asked if I would accompany him in preparing a game. With no wavering, I accepted. Grinning broadly as I followed John, I looked back to see Mark and Amanda coming with us outside. We all climbed into a van that was parked in back, this I could tell, was also a rental. In the back were supplies unknown to me, but John had said they were crucial to the game. Mark drove while John, who was in the passenger's seat, instructed Amanda and I on our jobs. So far, Amanda was to be dropped off at someone called Adam's apartment, Mark was supposed to be left at a different location and to get another person for John's game. Much to my elation, John and I would stay together.

We dropped off Mark first, at a parking lot. He was to kidnap the doctor and then drive his car to John and mine's destination. I got out of my backseat next to Amanda, so that I could drive. Mark and I exchanged glances as we passed; his fingers grazed mine subtly and quickly as we passed, brushing against one another. Glancing back momentarily, I hopped into the front seat, driving Amanda to her stop. John gave her instructions once more and then she was gone, hurrying into the apartment complex. I briefly mused over the look she gave John. Her brown, insipid eyes, lingered on his. Her stare sometimes spoke such volumes. I envied the way she could tell John so much without saying anything at all. Then my foot was on the gas and we were smoothly on our way to the game location. A sense of pride and usefulness stirred my restless being. It soothed my feelings of worthlessness.

I drove off, listening intently to John tell me about a man named Zep Hindle.

-

By the time John and I arrived, I was filled in on everything John, Amanda, and Mark had been planning. We were near what looked like a factory of sorts, you couldn't actually call it a house; it was an industrial kind of residence, where I knew nobody could possibly live. Steel and bricks lined the outside as a barrier; it looked more like a prison.

We were traveling through the corridors, deeper and deeper down. It was such a labyrinth; it reminded me of the warehouse that I called home. Finally we came to a huge metal sliding door, and John introduced the room to me.

"This is where we play our game." He began to slide the door, it slammed open. It was a wide space, much larger than where I played my own.

He flicked on the light; it was an intense white light that forced my retinas to adjust painfully. What I was looking into was what seemed to be bathroom in serious need of remodeling.

"Describe what you see to me in one word." John and I walked into the bathroom.

I thought momentarily, not wanting my answer to be depthless. Despite seeing the two chains on the pipes that were obviously meant for someone to be locked up with, I said:

"Liberation."

"Why do you say so?"

"Because, if one of them wins this game, they'll be set free from the ties that bind. The irony is that, in order to let loose their chains they'll have to hurt themselves. Instead of pleasing themselves in order to be bound to their ways."

For the first time in what seemed like forever and ever, John startled me by smiling warmly. I exhaled happily.

-

After some painting with glow-in the dark paint, I prepared the box for the doctor. After placing the card and the two cigarettes inside, as well as the cell phone that only received calls; I placed the box inside the wall and sealed it up. Just as I finished doing so, the sliding door slammed open and Amanda struggled in, dragging the unconscious body of Adam, one of our test subjects. The voyeur. He was boyishly handsome, moreover…sweet-faced. His dark hair swept a little across his forehead. I looked down at his unnaturally posed body, pitifully. I could see the same look in Amanda's eyes.

I helped her bring him over to his chain and she locked him into place. He did not stir.

She told John how she had to look for Adam's car keys after he was knocked out, and was afraid she'd left any fingerprints. John seemed indifferent. Shortly thereafter, Mark arrived with the doctor. The adulterer. Mark had little trouble dragging him in, and so I didn't help. Instead, I moved out of the way, closer to John, who was finishing up his fake blood and wound makeup. Honestly, I had to hand it to him; this game was far more complex than any I had known from him.

And I was worried it wouldn't play out the way we intended.

Taking a look at the doctor that Mark was fettering, with sudden disbelief, I realized I knew the man. His pallid skin and blond hair that lay flat on his head. Not being able to take my eyes off him, I decided to myself, that I wouldn't let on that I did. It's not as if the outcome of the game affected me personally. Besides, as with every subject, John taught over and over again that we must be emotionless. Emotions distract one from what must be done, and tells them they should do what they feel.

And when I snapped out of my thoughts, Mark was beside me, trying to figure out what I was seeing as I stared down at Dr. Gordon's limp body.

"He prescribed me sleeping pills once." I whispered to Mark. Looking behind my shoulder a little to see Amanda emptying Adam's pockets of anything that would jeopardize the rules.

He looked at me, "Really?"

I nodded. "Just after John spoke with me. I had a hard time sleeping for a while…"

Mark patted my back and then went to empty the doctor's pockets as well.

I kneeled next to him and watched. Mark took out a little box of tick-tacks and the doctor's cell phone. He reached into the other pocket and pulled out a small black wallet, opening it. Mark said John intended to leave that, as well as a photo of Gordon's wife and child; bound and gagged, with the word 'Regards' written in unsophisticated black marker. Mark showed the photo to me. I frowned, shaking my head disapprovingly, the little girl had to be no older than 7.

"What good does that do?" I couldn't help thinking of the doctor's reaction once he saw the photo.

"If John wants this guy to play well, he'd better be angry and frightened enough to do so. This will help." Mark placed it in back of another picture of the doctor's little girl. I wondered if she was alright, if she would be alright. Little girls need their dads, take it from me.

Then, once Mark and Amanda had discarded the materials they took from the players pockets, John was ready. I couldn't control my fast-paced heartbeats as John began to inject his arm with the chemical that would slow his heart, giving the impression that he was dead. The tapes and recorders were in place, the bullet in Gordon's pocket, and the saws inside the toilet lid. The players were in position, Adam's key in the filled bathtub where he sat. I had leaned him at an angle so that he would soon slide into the water, waking him up. John was lying in the fake pool of poisoned blood, holding the gun and the tape recorder. I was the last one to leave, wishing John luck and waving goodbye as I turned off the light and shut the door.