Authors Note: Hello fellow persons. I kind of spilled out all my ideas, and this is my first fanfic, so please leave a review with suggestions on how I can improve, what you'd like to happen, and if you want me to continue with the story! XOXXXXXO, Silver

I woke to the sound of the rebel alarm.

My maids were shooing me to the escape door as I quickly took hold of my robe on the hanger beside my bed, groggily tugging it on.

Again? This didn't seem real anymore. No, this was basically my morning routine.

And as my maids close the door behind me, I think, North or South?. How many more lives must the rebels take, before we give up? Before we fade into nothing? The terrorizing, the threats, the hundreds of bodies laying still, lifeless, on the palace grounds. They were getting stronger, more powerful, but what do they want?

I made my way to the bottom of the stairwell, where Maxon stood with a painfully worried look on his face. I notice Aspen with a copy of Maxon's worry standing in the corner. Everyone else was here in the safe room-I must have took a little to much time waking myself up to reality as I came.

Two more steps, I'll be in his arms. One more ste-

A burst of rebels flooded through one of the entryways. They found us.

But how?

Everything seems to go into slow motion. I find myself trapped in the arms of Maxon, dragging me towards the corner of the room where Kriss, Celeste, and the royals stood embodied by the protecting outer layer of guards that surround. I only have time to let out the slightest of scream as a rebel sends a bullet through Maxon's already blood stained shirt, into his shoulder.

South.

Maxon falls and I leap out of his arms in terror. I try to help him up, but a pair of strong arms does the work for me. Aspen.

"I'll take him, America. Go with the others!" I realize that the crowd of rebels is minimizing, and the royals, along with the other elite, are heading towards a door. It's alright. Aspen will find a way to get him to the hospital wing. He's alright. I'm alright. I need some toast.

Yes. Think of the toast America. I find my way to the others, slightly increasing my speed as I don't want to be left behind. Guards guide us into a hallway, and I try my very hardest to ignore the fact that Maxon's hurt. The fact that there are rebels still in the castle. The knowing of needing to take our steps carefully, for we may easily step on one of the still, lifeless bodies that lay on the floor, covered in blood.

And, as I expected, the phrase "We're coming" is plastered onto every wall, but this time, some sentences are written in blue, while others in red.

Our group finds one of the staff escape rooms, just like the one Maxon and I were in the other day. It's small, but we manage to fit, as most of the guards stand outside the door, prepared for what ever comes at them.

Hopefully.

I turn to find Maxon still in the arms of Aspen. He's too limp to walk.

They're following far behind. Why?

I start to say something, but a guard shoves me into the small room, saying, "Both. And more than you can ever imagine."

My mind races, unsure of what he meant, but I remember the question that always burned through me. North or South? My eyes flood in realization as I take one last glance behind me before I'm forced in.

Maxon tugs his ear as I finally notice him being dragged away with a knife at his throat. A rebel has him. Where's Aspen? Why isn't he protecting Maxon?

I look at the rebel's face, but its him. Aspen is there, and he's holding the knife.

Before I can scream, the door closes with a thud and I'm left in the painful darkness with the others.

DUN DUN DUN! Lots o love, and I'm sorry about Maxon.