This is my bathroom. It’s red, opulent, and unnecessarily garish, but the tub is nice. Greek inspired, sunk into the floor with pillars. You too can bathe in the waters of Olympus and be transformed into a goddess. That kind of vibe.

[deep exhale]

Apparently, you all know how this works. We play The Cruelest Jewel. A team wins the money at the end.

Today, Harlow had to make a sacrifice. It cost her quite a bit.

I had no idea comforting people could be so stressful. She cried for an hour. A whole hour until she fell asleep and I almost had to carry her back to her room. I … [pause]

I’ve been wanting a reason to be here. It’s hard not to compare myself to the others, how invested they are. I didn’t actually think I’d get one. [laughs] There’s more to this game than what I initially thought. Winning, for me, will look very different than it will for someone like Luna. I’m quite upset that I’m being forced to feel my feelings during my inaugural wild child weekend—stop being rude. Yes, I can see your comments. This time I ask the questions. You give me answers.

Question one: How much can you see exactly?

[pauses]

Everything is an extremely troubling answer. You can see me on this livestream, but you can’t see me in the bathroom right now on the other app?

[pauses]

Okay. Good. At least she didn’t lie about that.

Oh. Now that’s interesting. Thank you, DollyVicious. Can anyone see inside Francis’s room? No? Any idea what makes Francis so special?

[looks off-screen]

[stands up and walks off-screen]

[video ends]

PART III

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

“I do have some level of self-awareness. Not much. But some.”

—JEWEL VAN HANEN

WAKING NIGHTMARES

SATURDAY, 4:37 A.M.

Nothing gentle resided in the darkness. It had been saturated by emptiness, grown thick with fear powerful enough to both stop a heart and restart it.

Nicole knew exactly where she was—standing at the bottom of an open grave, too deep and too muddy to climb out. She screamed for help, throat going raw from strain almost instantly. All she got for her efforts was dirt thrown in her face. Over and over and over and over …

Gasping for air, Nicole bolted upright in bed. Stiff, clammy hands bunched in her soaked sheets. She writhed in placed, legs twisting—confused and still trying to climb out. Her eyes burned, but she refused to blink herself back into that endless darkness. She recognized this moment punctuated by aching bones, straining muscles, and chattering teeth for what it was.

And she knew how to crawl back into herself, second by second.