Page 92 of I Will Break You

I understand that you haven’t polished your second manuscript, but I’m aching to know what happens next. If it’s not too much of an imposition, I would be delighted to read it.

They say that authors put a little piece of their soul into their work, which makes it all the more precious. I’m not just enthralled by your story, I’m eager for another glimpse into your spirit. There’s no pressure. If the answer is no, I will reread book one of Rapunzelita and savor your graceful penmanship.

The graduation run is an exam that mixes elements of an obstacle course with the Running of the Bulls. Academy students must navigate booby traps and fight each other for the chance to leave the academy and become paid assassins. Imagine any popular dystopian movie where teenagers murder each other for survival.

On the morning of the exam, we piled into armored vehicles and were driven to an industrial complex. Our instructions were to form groups of three, search for hidden purses containing tokens within the labyrinth, and find our way across town to a specific location.

The game seemed simple until we realized there were only enough purses for three-quarters of the groups, which pitted us against each other.

While we came unarmed, there were plenty of weapons littered about the arena. It soon dawned on us that our instructors wanted us to fight.

I’d already joined forces with two other boys I’d known from the previous facility, and we managed to reach a purse without hurting any other groups. However, when we checked its contents, it only contained two tokens.

That’s when we realized our instructors wanted us to turn against each other. Boys I had known since I was ten. It was impossible. Instead, we decided to find another purse and donate the extra token to the other trio of boys from our facility.

It was late, and a few successful pairs had already departed, leaving behind dead teammates or survivors who had joined together to find purses.

What started as a fun exercise became a bloodbath. Returning to the academy wasn’t an option. Our instructors made it clear that those who tried to leave would face deadly consequences.

In the end, the boys we wanted to save had cornered a trio of girls. They’d already killed one of them to obtain their purse, but they’d chosen to stay to have ‘fun’ with the others.

All the rage that had been simmering in my heart returned. I remembered the Lolita assassins whom I’d dismissed as weaklings, as well as the reports my sister made of being molested by my youngest brother. I charged in and delivered much quicker deaths than they deserved.

There were now four tokens and five students, but I was no longer in the mood for killing fellow pawns. I handed the girls the tokens they found and told them I would find my own way.

Fan questions:

Since being incarcerated, I’ve had more time for old hobbies and new. For example, I’ve always enjoyed reading, and the prison library contains a wide variety of classics. I’ve recently taken up photography and particularly enjoy self-portraits. I get akick out of knowing the pictures I take will be used as greenscreen backgrounds for the fan club.

Yes, I’m aware of the small community that lives in the Paris catacombs and was once nearly robbed by a man who claimed to be its leader. I believe his assertions were fraudulent. When I disarmed him, he cried for mercy like a fool.

Love,

Xero

FORTY-EIGHT

AMETHYST

I spend the entire night laid out on the wooden floor, freaked out by Xero’s punishment and my reaction to BJ’s brutal murder. He made me climax to what was effectively a snuff movie. I rode that dildo like it was the last dick on earth, a part of me reveling in my humiliation.

Xero isn’t just haunting my life, he’s eroding my morality. He’s turning me from someone who only kills in self-defense to someone who gets off on watching death.

I don’t.

In fact, I’m so disgusted with myself that I want to sink into the floorboards and spend the rest of my life in the crawlspace. The only thing stopping me from disappearing forever is the thought of Myra falling to a similar fate as those men.

I need to get up, dust myself off, and to make sure Xero holds up his end of our bargain.

Sunlight streams in through the crack in the door by the time I muster up the courage to move from my spot and try the front door. Finding it unlocked, I collapse against it, my knees buckling with relief.

When I rush upstairs to check under my pillow, there’s no souvenir. Maybe Xero thinks he’s terrorized me enough?

I take a shower, get dressed, and grab my car keys. There’senough gas in the tank for a return trip across town. I don’t need to ration my fuel, because I get my allowance at the end of the month, which is in just over a week.

Myra lives in a downtown apartment building with a concierge. I’m not a fan of her roommates, as they give me the creeps, and I’m sure she only tolerates their bullshit because they allow her to live rent free.

I try her door, but a tall man in a suit answers, saying she’s gone to work. My heart skips a beat. That has to be a good sign, right? Not wanting to run out of gas for the return trip home, I walk several blocks down to Wonderland, where I find her vacuuming the window display.