Conspiracy Game Read Online Free PDF Page A

didn’t like close physical contact. They were so hurt by her behavior. Shattered. She still woke up with her mother’s sobs ringing in her ears, and her voice asking why didn’t Briony love them? Briony adored them; she just couldn’t get too close without terrible repercussions, and there was no way to make them understand that the pain was real, not psychological.
    She knew exactly how this scenario would play out. She’d gone through it a million times. “This is Africa, Jeb,” she reminded him, “a country rampant with suffering. There’s AIDS and death and rape and loss and it’s swamping me.”
    His mouth tightened. He didn’t like her to bring up anything even hinting of psychic overload. He didn’t believe in it and, like her parents, thought it was a form of autism. He wanted her to fight through it and succeed in being “normal.” “Can you stop the nosebleed?” He glanced at his watch. “I need you to be able to perform, Briony.”
    She wanted to throw something at him. “You say that before every performance and I always manage to make it. Go away, Jebediah. I need to be alone.”
    Her other brothers pressed closer. Tyrel, as always, looked sympathetic, Seth angry, and Ruben disgusted. Ruben always chose to bully her, thinking that would somehow make her shape up. Seth yelled at her, and Tyrel eventually would get annoyed with both of them and run them off. The ritual had been going on as long as she could remember, and not once had any of them understood that she couldn’t help what was happening to her and that their presence, with their intense emotions, only made it worse.
    “There’s a rumor going around that the rebel leader’s troops have been pouring into the city looking for someone,” Tyrel said. “That’s not a good sign, Jeb. You know they’re going to look at all foreigners.”
    Jebediah swore. “If the rebel troops are coming into the city, the soldiers are going to be very nervous and trigger-happy. Why would they come into the city armed and ready for trouble?”
    “Hell, I don’t understand any of the politics here,” Seth replied. “Everyone hates everyone and they want everyone else dead.”
    No one had to tell that to Briony. The heightened tension in the streets increased her inability to function. There was poverty and sickness and so many tragedies she wanted to crawl into a hole and muffle out all emotion, sound, and thought.
    “Your skin is changing color again, Briony,” Ruben said impatiently. “I told you to watch that around people.”
    “We aren’t people; we’re her family,” Tyrel pointed out. “Leave her alone.”
    Ruben persisted. “Well, how can she do that? Like some lizard or something.”
    Briony sighed, pushing her pounding head into her hand. It felt like someone was hammering nails into her skull, but there was no pointing that out to anyone. The show had to go on—and Briony always, always , came through. It was a matter of pride with her. She was a Jenkins and whatever they did, she could do—and would do.
    “Anyone could walk in here,” Ruben defended.
    “I locked the door,” Seth said. “Snap out of it, Bri. I’m not kidding around with you. You’re too old for panic attacks.”
    Briony had had enough. They had ten minutes until they were on, and if her brothers didn’t leave, she wouldn’t be able to pull herself together. “Get out.” She bit the words out between her teeth, glaring at them.
    Her four brothers looked startled. It was the first time she had ever interrupted the ritual. They were big men, muscular and well built with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She had wheat and platinum hair, dark, chocolate brown eyes, and was about five foot two. She looked nothing like them, and certainly didn’t have their adventurous personalities—although she wished she did. She never really sassed them, although she considered herself pushed around a bit by them. At once all their faces dropped.
    Ruben crouched down