روايات وقصص ضمن You Were Always A Losing Game

A man on the verge of being cast out like trash. I slammed the empty glass down on the desk, the sharp crack echoing through the room. My breathing was erratic. For the first time since I began my games, I felt the sting of real, unrelenting loss. But I couldn't give up. Hell, I would never give up.

"Then why do I keep losing? I really want to win and get appreciated by my father." He was quiet for a moment, resetting the pieces on the board with the ease of someone who had done it many times and would do it many more. "Because you play like you're trying not to lose," he said. "Instead of playing like you're trying to win. They look the same, but they're not." I had stared at him. "Set them up again," I said. "I want to win you at least this time." The second game went the way the first had gone, and the third the way the second had.

Even when the game seems already lost. Especially then.

I could tell he was struggling desperately not to lose control. Since childhood, we had always competed against each other. And every single time, I had beaten him at his own game. That single word— Loser. It had struck directly at one of his deepest insecurities. Frankly, I was surprised he had not already lunged across the arena to attack me.

"I really will work hard and make more money. Are you divorcing me over money?" With every word, he twisted the blame until I sounded like the cruel one. My throat tightened so badly it hurt. I fought back the tears before I finally forced the words out, "Your little game of pretending to be poor should be over by now, Mr. Blackwood." I lifted my eyes and looked straight at him. "Unfortunately, I don't want to keep playing along." My voice was raw as I added, "People like us can't afford the kinds of games you play."

I'll have to beat him at his own game first. I shouldn't have fallen for his charms, but this man won't stop surprising me. He's like a fucking onion, and the more I peel the more layers I see. And damn it, if each layer doesn't have its own secret. Whatever game this is, whatever filthy game we're playing, a part of me tells me the more I play, the more I'm likely to lose. But as Monique says, sometimes even losing can be pleasurable. But what about winning?

‘Game ends at ‘4 - 3’ “ …We lost…

Because losing? Not an option.

All the boys in the room chanted it in unison. "Exactly!" I replied. “Of course, we haven’t forgotten that, boss.” Allen conceded. “But let me remind you about one thing. Our team just lost a member. Meaning, we are incomplete now. And we are running out of time for our next tournament. Unless we concede, which I believe you won't agree with me.” Conceding or losing is not listed in my vocabulary. I was born to be perfect. A winner in any kind of competition. Ball games? Wealth competition? Handsome competition?

My heart jumped when his steel-grey eyes looked directly at me. "So..." He pulled out his bag of gaming paraphernalia. I was always amused at how interestingly he'd play with me."Alright, so today we have cards." "Arielle." he tsked." You have already lost the game." "Oh, we'll see.", I gave him a challenging look. Thirty-five minutes and losing four games in a row later. "Bloody hell! How are you wining every dang time?"I literally was going mad with anger. Every time I lose a game, he'd say: "Ouch, amore! Try again.", making me angrier than last time.