All Chapters of MISTRESS OF THE GAME: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

MARIEThe SurpriseI cursed myself for not accepting the fact that my life had taken a turn for the better. At least, that was what people kept saying. “You are lucky, now you get to live a normal life, I wish I was in your shoes.” Everyone, and everything indicated better. But I didn’t trust “better.” Better had tricks hidden in its pockets. Better had sharp teeth behind its smile.I stood at the entrance of the house, frozen, afraid that even stepping further inside would expose me as someone who didn’t belong. My thoughts were everywhere like birds startled out of a tree, wings flapping wildly in every direction. I couldn’t catch one long enough to steady myself.The woman, the one who had brought me here was moving around, doing little things I didn’t even register at first. She slipped her shoes off neatly and placed them by the door on a mat so clean it looked like it had never been stepped on. She adjusted the vase of flowers sitting on a console table, tucking one stem back in

MARIE:ASHES OF A DREAM When I think back to those days with the Tates, it almost feels like another life. Like a dream I held in my hands for a while before it slipped through my fingers and shattered on the floor. For a time, everything was perfect. Too perfect.After that meal, after the laughter that left my cheeks aching from smiling too much, life truly felt like it had turned a corner. Crumbs was no longer a torn and dirty bear. Mrs. Tate had patched him, filled him, and cleaned him so thoroughly that when she handed him back, he looked almost new. I hugged him so tight that I thought the stitches would tear again. He smelled faintly of lavender soap."You see," Mrs. Tate had said with a smile, "sometimes all it takes is a little thread and patience."Sheila giggled. "He looks like a brand-new teddy."I pressed Crumbs to my chest and whispered, "He is brand new." But deep down I knew he carried my old scars too, just hidden under neat stitches.The days that followed w

The Last Girl LeftThe day Sheila left, the hallway felt wider. Emptier. Quieter in a way that wasn’t peaceful. Like the walls were waiting for someone to speak, but no one had anything left to say.I stood by the window of our dorm, staring down at the car that drove her away. It was one of the few times I’d ever seen her cry. She pressed her fingers to the glass, mouthing something I couldn’t hear. I didn’t wave back. I wanted to, but my arms wouldn’t move.That night, her bed stayed untouched. They didn’t strip the sheets or fold the blanket. It just sat there, still messy from the morning, like the room didn’t want to forget her either.I lay in my bed hugging my knees. Not Crumbs, it had lost its magic effect it had on me I didn’t need him anymore. Or maybe I just didn’t want him.“Marie,” a small voice whispered from across the room.It was Lila, a new girl who’d arrived three weeks ago. She was seven. Scared of the dark. Always tugging at my sleeve.“She’s not coming back, is s

No More TimeThe night before I left Lockwood, the rain wouldn’t stop. It tapped on the windows like it was trying to get in, whispering secrets to anyone who would listen. But nobody did. The halls were quiet, and even the younger girls stayed in their beds instead of sneaking around. Maybe they could feel it too, that something was ending.I folded my clothes carefully. Not because I cared much about the creases, but because it gave me something to do with my hands. There wasn’t much to pack. Just a few shirts, one worn-out pair of jeans, socks that didn’t match, a tiny tin of hair grease, and a notebook with most of the pages torn out. Sheila had given it to me years ago, back when we still believed in plans. Back when we still believed in forever.I opened it and flipped to one of the last pages. My handwriting looked like someone else’s now. A child’s hand. I traced a drawing I had made of us, me and Sheila, sitting on rooftops, stars above our heads. In the picture, we were smil

The Last Girl LeftThe day Sheila left, the hallway felt wider. Emptier. Quieter in a way that wasn’t peaceful. Like the walls were waiting for someone to speak, but no one had anything left to say.I stood by the window of our dorm, staring down at the car that drove her away. It was one of the few times I’d ever seen her cry. She pressed her fingers to the glass, mouthing something I couldn’t hear. I didn’t wave back. I wanted to, but my arms wouldn’t move.That night, her bed stayed untouched. They didn’t strip the sheets or fold the blanket. It just sat there, still messy from the morning, like the room didn’t want to forget her either.I lay in my bed hugging my knees. Not Crumbs, it had lost its magic effect it had on me I didn’t need him anymore. Or maybe I just didn’t want him.“Marie,” a small voice whispered from across the room.It was Lila, a new girl who’d arrived three weeks ago. She was seven. Scared of the dark. Always tugging at my sleeve.“She’s not coming back, is s