The sparks had been set. Though the Canadian app, Frameus deleted any posts asking for killing to be banned in Relar, its American counterpart Instagram was aflame with protests. While Adonis' spamming had helped the movement grow, famous celebrities were doing the heavy lifting. They told their fans to fight for life, not death.
Gregory sat on his bed, watching a girl talk about a boy who had participated in Relar and killed over thirty people, painting the roads red with blood. He walked out of the competition like a champion and, twenty years later, took over from his uncle as president of Canada. Gregory felt a sense of accomplishment within, but it wasn't enough.
He still wanted to put a bullet through Fidel's brain. Yes, Gregory knew he was being irrational, and yes, he had tried to talk himself out of it, but he couldn't. He wanted blood. He wanted his brothers' killer to feel pain.
And proof or no proof, the Relar people had something to do with it.
The worst thing was that his thirst for revenge had ruined his friendship. He had scared the hell out of Adonis a few days before. He had seen the fear in Adonis' eyes. Fear directed at him. He hadn't just scared Adonis, he had scared himself. He had almost punched the boy when the guy was doing nothing more than protecting him.
Gregory felt frustration flood his veins. He dropped his phone, left his bed, and banged his forehead against the wall. He slammed his head into the wall again and again until it felt bruised and throbbed painfully. Although it hurt, he didn't stop then but kept going as if he wanted to split his head open. He wanted to scream but didn't want to alert anyone, so he kept it in.
Since his brother had died, he had tried to prevent his pain from surfacing, and now it wanted to explode. Added to that, he had fucked things up with Adonis. The guy wouldn't reply to his text; his apologies went unread. He breathed heavily and continued to knock his head into wall. Warm blood trickled down his forehead as his skin tore. The door opened without him noticing. A heavy force knocked him to the ground. It held him there, wrapping its arms around his chest and holding him tight. Gregory struggled against the person, twisting and writhing.
"What the fuck, man?" Jonas asked. "Adonis told me to check on you. What the hell are you trying to do? If you are trying to kill yourself then knocking your head into the wall is a very inefficient way to do it."
Gregory struggled, panting like a dog before stopping. When Jonas felt his muscles relax, he let him go. The two of them sat on the floor in silence, staring at the red wallpaper with its slanted black lines. Jonas said, "Your head is bleeding."
Gregory pressed his finger to his forehead and pulled it back to find it bloody. It was a shallow cut and had already begun to heal. A slim trail of blood ran down the bridge of his nose and started to dry. He said, "So it is." He wiped his finger on his pants.
Jonas stared at him, mouth agape. "What's going on with you, man?"
Gregory smiled. He found humour in how pathetic he was. He said, "You ever got an irrational urge to kill someone? You know nothing good will happen, but you still want to do it?"
"I told you not to see Adonis again. And if you try to kill him, I will fuck you up. That guy was my friend before he was yours; I'm loyal to him first, and you, second."
"No, this isn't about, Adonis. I would never do anything to hurt Adonis, I swear. I'm probably in love with the guy, but now that I know that I love him, he has decided that he doesn't want to be gay anymore." After admitting that, Gregory, stared at the back of his hand; they were strange things—hands. Why did humans have them? Whose idea was it to give them separate digits and nails? Who gave Gregory hands? Hands he had used to grab Adonis and shove him against the tree. It wasn't a playful shove; it was a hard jolt. It had hurt Adonis. Gregory hadn't meant to do that. Something was wrong with his body—it was like he had no control over it.
If his hands wanted to caress Adonis, they went ahead and did so. If they wanted to shove Adonis, they did that as well.
"You're not gay. Adonis just confuses people. It will pass if you're patient, but if you touch him again, I'll kill you, simple as that." Jonas said, "And you know, Adonis is having a hard time as well. It's not just you; everyone has shit that they're fighting through. There's no need for you to be doing any of this."
"I know that and I didn't mean to hurt him or anyone else." Gregory pinched the bridge of his nose to alleviate the pressure building in his head. "I feel like my brother was murdered. I want revenge, and I don't want anyone to get in my way of doing that. Adonis, I love the guy, but he got in my way yesterday. I was close to figuring out what really happened—he could have given me the info that I needed, but he chose to protect me instead. I shouldn't hate him for that but I...."
"You want revenge?" Jonas said, "You do realize that you sound like a madman, don't you? Your brother died in a tsunami. No one person killed him. If you're going to attack Fidel; you might as well attack everyone who works for him as well. I liked your brother, okay? He was nice, cheerful, talented, and a lot of people loved him. You loved him, but what you're doing to yourself is no good. You can't keep torturing yourself like this. You can't take your anger out on your friends either, or you will force us to abandon you. I don't want to do that, but if I feel threatened by you, I'll go, and I'll tell Adonis not to see you anymore."
Gregory felt irritated. As Jonas and Adonis had been friends longer than Adonis had been friends with Gregory, Adonis tended to do whatever Jonas told him. While Gregory didn't want to push them away, he needed to avenge his brother. His heart told him he should. He told Jonas, "Then what the fuck am I supposed to do? Sit here and do nothing? Let Relar get away with this shit? No. Chris has always had my back. He needed me, and I wasn't there for him—the only thing I can do now is get revenge on his behalf."
Jonas argued, "Your brother risked his life to ban killing in the games. Hell, he died because he wanted to protect others. You really think he wants you to go out there and kill someone? You think he wants you to your ass thrown in jail because you are too stupid to think?" Jonas tapped two fingers against the side of his head. A vein pulsing in his forehead showed how angry he was. "You can go out there and kill someone, but the only people you are hurting are us—the friends that love you. The friends that are still alive and care for you. The friends that would move heaven and earth for you." Jonas paused to lick his lips. "You need to pull yourself together. This is why Adonis is avoiding you; it's not because he hates you, he just can't handle you when you are this intense. I love you, okay, you are like a brother to me, but you are not thinking properly, and the people around you are going to get hurt as a result. Get your shit together." He left Gregory's room, leaving the boy with his thoughts.
Gregory looked at the white ceiling and asked Chris, "What do you want from me? I'm trying to make you happy; I know you are dead, but you might be watching us, and you might be expecting me to do something for you. What is it?" His voice was desperate, pleading, but only silence answered him.
***
At night, soldiers walked into Gregory's room. He had been asleep when he felt a rough hand on his shoulder, he shrugged it off. It returned, and the lights flashed on. He blinked under the harsh glare and was about to shout at the butler when he saw that it wasn't the old man who always waited on him, but two young soldiers in camouflage uniforms. He swatted their hands off him and jackknifed to his feet. He stood on the bed, fists raised to fight.
The soldiers watched him wearily before one of them slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled what looked like a blue toy gun. He squeezed the trigger. Probes attached to a plastic cord flew out of blast doors. The probes' needles bore into Gregory's clothes and dug into his skin. Electric current raced through his entire body, jolting him. His body spasmed. He fell to the bed, screaming loudly, his body twitched, but he was too stunned to attack. A soldier took advantage of his weakness to fit cuffs on his wrist. They pressed his head against the sheet.
He saw his mother standing in the doorway, a hand covering her mouth as she wept. His father held her. Gregory wanted to scream at them to do something and help him. He hadn't done anything to deserve this. One of the soldiers talked into their comms unit, a coiled wire trailed from their ear and tucked into the collar of their shirt. He couldn't make out what they were saying. His thoughts jumbled. He found it hard to focus on anything with clarity.
Gregory's breathing was raspy, and he drooled as he waited to regain the function of his limbs. His parents moved to the side, making way for the soldiers as one carried him by his arms, and the other held his legs as they yanked him from his own room. His parents made no move to help him. He wondered what he had done to get the soldiers' attention. Did Jonas rat him out? There was no way. He didn't believe that his friend would betray him like that. Jonas had been angry, but that was because he was worried about Adonis and frustrated by Gregory's meltdown. Jonas was overburdened by the responsibility of protecting the two of them, but that didn't mean that Jonas would turn him in, did it?
Gregory was taken outside and was shoved into the back seat of a black sedan, a metal gate separated him from the front seats.
He rocked as the car levitated and pulled away from the curb abruptly. He slammed his head into metal and slipped into the dip between the seats. His hands pressed uncomfortably beneath his side as he landed awkwardly on them. He groaned in pain, but the men didn't stop and kept driving. He had regained control of his limbs. Every turn sent a part of his body slamming into either the metal gate, the seats, the doors, or multiple things in quick succession. He had lost track of the turns they had taken and how long they had driven. He was faintly aware of streetlamps passing as sometimes the lamps lit up the inside of the car; other times, he was in the dark.
The soldiers murmured, discussing something a comedian was saying on the radio. The inside of the car was cold, and they hadn't given Gregory a chance to get dressed, so he wore a longsleeved shirt and boxers. No socks or shoes. The car slowed. Though Gregory couldn't see anything but bright spotlights, the car had approached the barbed wire fence of a military base. The two soldiers showed their I.D to the gate's guards and were let through. Inside the compound, there was a collection of short, dark grey buildings surrounded by tall pine trees. Stars twinkled in the night sky. A few, dark clouds streaked its expanse.