((Skipping to avoid inactivity))
“Wait.” Aidan almost called out to stop Gene. Sending Gene off without the food wasn’t much better mercy that Gene had tried to give Aidan and Laura. Aidan could read the hurt, the confusion, the fear, all of the stinging emotions strewn across Gene’s face. Gene was never that
good of an actor. Or maybe he was. Maybe Aidan was just able to hone in on it because they felt the exact same way.
“Was that. . .” Aidan’s mouth mimed a barely audible whisper of doubt. Was that right?
By taking Gene’s food and supplies, they’d left him with little to survive on. They might be here for days, depending on how quick the ‘contestants’ were willing to put on a show. The poor guy would be hungry, scared, alone, and an easy target. How was Aidan any better.
“Come on, gurl. Let’s strut on out of here.” Strut was confident. Strut was bravery. Strut was walking the runway in the fugliest gown the designer could make, yet rocking it as if it were virgin art, displayed to the adoring public. Aidan couldn’t just walk out of here, scared, nervous and shaking like a leaf. Aidan needed to strut.
The bag was slung over his shoulder, slightly weightier from before. Aidan might not have had a weapon, or a strategy outside of finding Will, Jaxon, Lucy and Taylor, but that was all okay. He had drive. He wasn’t going to die here.
Maybe the more Aidan fed himself that line, the sooner he’d believe it. After all, he was the greatest thespian at Davison. If he couldn’t give the best performance, who could?