Avery Ross

The Game

Sweat beads pouring down my face, the sound of my heartbeat in my ears, my sweet daughter’s warm-brown eyes pleading with me across the room; I only wanted what was best for her, none of this should ever have happened. Hands trembling, I take the scissors and the black book and run to her. A stampede of combat boots hitting the cold concrete ground -- I hear them coming. The time is now. I need to cut the wire.