My Husband Sent Me to the Deadly Game

The early autumn wind carried grit that stung my face sharply. I crouched behind a bush in the wilderness, biting into the last half of a compressed biscuit, my throat dry as if it were smoking. This was the thirtieth day since I had joined the "Extreme Wilderness Survival" contest. Before coming, my husband Henry Gordon knelt before me, his eyes red, clutching the medical record of our son, Ryan Gordon. "Jane, my company went bankrupt, and Ryan has leukemia. Only the one million prize from this contest can save him." His voice trembled: "I know it's hard for you, but we have no other choice." I saw the red veins in his eyes, and then thought of Ryan's pale little face. My heart immediately softened. Seven years married, I've gone from a career woman to a full-time housewife, long accustomed to revolving my life around him and our son. Even knowing the contest would strand me in the wilderness for sixty days, struggling with shortages of water and food, I still nodded and agreed. Over these thirty days, I've drunk muddy river water, eaten burnt bugs, and clung to tree trunks to fight off the cold at night. More than once I wanted to quit, but every time I thought about my son waiting for surgery money, I gritted my teeth and pushed on. Then yesterday, I suddenly ran a high fever, my whole body burning, and in a daze, the production team took me to a nearby town hospital. The liquid from the IV dripped steadily into my veins. I was drifting in and out of sleep when muffled voices jolted me awake. "Dad, won't Mom find out? I'm about to break under this act." It was Ryan's voice, edged with impatience. My heart tightened as I quietly cracked open one eye. Henry sat on the chair beside the hospital bed, fiddling with his phone, his tone casual: "Relax. After a month in the wild, her mind isn't clear anymore. In another thirty days, once we get the prize money, we can settle abroad with Bailey." "But what about our company and my illness..." "It was all lies to her! My company is perfectly fine, and you're healthier than anyone. If we hadn't lied, how could she have willingly gone through that torture?" Henry's words stabbed into my heart like an ice pick. I suddenly snapped my eyes open, unconsciously pulling on the IV tube; the needle slipped out of my vein, and the back of my hand swelled instantly. The father and son heard the noise and both turned to look at me. Henry's face immediately went pale with panic, and Ryan instinctively recoiled. "Jane, you're awake? Why didn't you call for me?" Henry hurriedly stood up, trying to press down on the back of my hand. I dodged his hand, my voice hoarse from fever and shock: "I'm quitting the contest. I want to quit."