Sometimes I would be in a natural position, like reading a book, or lying down, or in the shower; and I would wish that I had died in my first trap. Wish that the anxiety and fear had overwhelmed me and I would have ceased breathing. Living with John was either the most stressful experience of my life, or the most satisfying.

And so, I didn't know what would be more comforting, living, or dying.

Sometimes I would wish those things and then I would look around and see the most confusing and pleasing relationships I'd ever been in. Which was strange for a person like me, one who never knew a family, never felt accepted.

I closed the heavy metal sliding door and felt all of those things and more as I hurried away towards Mark and Amanda; they led the way out of the maze of corridors. I had gained an immense respect for the both of them, having worked together with them, as well as sharing a common goal.

Amanda, silent and distrusting, made no eye contact with us and went her own way once we were out.

"Hey!" I called her as she went; she stopped wearily and turned to face me.

"Why not wait with us?" I gestured to Mark and me, "We're…cool now, right?"

"I don't make friends." She replied coldly, leaving the scene quickly, her head looking around rapidly, as if some nervous animal. I watched her make her way down the street where the bus ran. It was still early enough for her to get anywhere on this side of town safely.

I had no response for this; instead I turned my back on her and went again towards Mark.

"So, what now? Do we just wait everything out at home?" I thought aloud, apprehensively.

"Depends on where home is for you. That workshop isn't my home."

"Well, it's mine." I shrugged, staring at the van wondering if I should leave at all. If I should simply bide my time in the park, or even wander around the city. John said the game would be over by 6:00, I thought of ways to kill time.

While I looked wistfully, I could feel Mark's warm touch against the cold air, giving me goose bumps. He touched my wrist, and then my palm and then my fingers with electricity that made me quiver.

We came to the van, Mark was driving, and I sat in the passenger seat fiddling with my jacket pockets nervously. I bit my nails a little as well.

"Why is she so distant? With us I mean. She hasn't a problem getting along with John..." I inquired to Mark about Amanda.

"I seem to recall you being distant too when you were first tested. It takes a little getting used to, this new life…"

He paused. "You say 'us' as if we're an item."

I froze, trying to backtrack. "Don't. Don't get the wrong idea. All I meant was 'us' as in two people in the same perimeter. Not two people in a relationship. As far as I'm concerned, we're platonic." I began to gaze out the window.

"Well. I wouldn't say platonic. Indirect maybe, but not platonic." He almost grinned.

I pretended I didn't hear him, losing focus on the world as I looked dreamily out the window. And after a time, I could feel his eyes on me, but by then mine were already closed and halfway gone.

-

Mark's POV.

She passed out next to me, I couldn't blame her.

The hell did she mean by platonic?

That's not what I was getting from her.

She's got a pretty weird definition of the word.

I drove around for a while, stopped to grab a coffee, and bought the newspaper.

I phoned Amanda; she said she was on her way back to the game house.

I listened to the radio, read an article in the newspaper. I tried to calm myself, and kill time.

It was a little after 6:00 now, and I started driving back to the game house myself, looking over briefly and watching Rivielle's chest move up and down rhythmically. Her dark hair illuminated by the streetlights.

Once in the parking lot, I could hear the static of the walkie-talkie in my pocket. Zep was trying to reach us.

Help, they got away!

Who?!

Them! The girl and the mother!

How did you let that happen?!

I don't know, I've got this cop on my tail-

Where are you?!

I'm running; I'm on my way to the bathroom NOW-

I tried to respond, I tried to tell him to stop before the game was risked any further.

But the connection fuzzed and died.

The rules distinctly said, 'if the doctor doesn't kill Adam, then his family dies'. No exceptions and no substitutions.

The rules were broken now, and the game could go in any direction.

I had to observe, as well as stay out of the way which could be tricky.

Especially now that a detective was after Zep.

Leaving Rivielle to her slumber, I left her in the car and made my way up to the game house, meeting up with Amanda on the way.

"What's going on?" She looked drained.

"Zep broke the rules. He let the family get away; He's going to kill the doctor."

-

Rivielle POV

When I awoke, I was still sitting in the passenger seat. The car was parked in the front of the game house.

"Mark?"

Where the hell are you?

Opening the car door, I looked at my watch. 6:15.

With an astonished gasp, I dashed inside the building, a terror building within me.

I made a mad run through the maze inside, hearing voices grow louder and louder. Turning a corner in the hall, I could see Mark, peering through the darkness at me. We weren't too far from the bathroom now.

"What…Where- what happened?" I could barely finish, my breath came shallow and in huffs.

"Zep called for help, but… we lost connection." He held up a walkie-talkie.

"When was this?!"

"Maybe ten minutes ago. You were asleep…"

I could see Amanda standing near him, she looked fearful. My eyes must have reflected hers, because Mark assured me.

"John is fine, don't worry. The game is over by now; he should be coming this way shortly."

I wasn't entirely relived, but I took his word for it. Scouts honor right?

-

At precisely 6:18 pm, Mark, Amanda and I were standing in a corridor near the bathroom. We were expecting John to emerge from around the corner. And with each minute that passed we became more and more panicky.

The man who crawled from out of the darkness wasn't John. Shocked the hell out of me.

"Hellllp meeee. I need h-help…" A voice groaned. I saw a dirty, matted head of blond hair.

Amanda yelped, and instinctively, I moved in front of her; my eyes as wide as hers and my breathing becoming unsteady. Mark stood in front of both of us, his expression undeterminable in this light.

Dr. Lawrence Gordon had made it out of the bathroom. There was a scarlet trail marking his passage; there was a stump where his right foot used to be. He had created a makeshift tourniquet out of his shirt. It wasn't doing any good. His skin had a bluish tint, his bodily life force was draining quickly, and if no one assisted him, he would certainly die. He had propped himself up slightly by his elbows, crawling feebly.

I couldn't move, speak. What was there to be done?

He had seen us; he knew who did this to him.

And if we were to help him, what would happen to us?

He failed his game. Period. He has to die.

As these thoughts raced through me, the doctor slumped further down to the ground, weakening even faster than before. He laid his head down on the floor of the hall, his breathing slowed. He groaned, "I p-promised… I would s-send… help." And then, his body went limp in front of us.

I turned to look at Amanda; her tears were free-falling and silent. Mark handed her a napkin. I, still in shock wouldn't, or couldn't free my own bitter tears. It was possible that I didn't possess the option of crying anymore.

Instead I leaned against the wall and waited for John, closing my eyes and willing myself to have an out of body experience and be far away from here. I could hear Amanda trying to stifle her sobs as someone came walking down the hall.

Shortly after hearing the door slam in the distance and the screaming that ensued, John shuffled slightly down the hall as the effects of the drug wore off. As he got closer, he briefly noticed the cold, blue, corpse laying face down. John was covered in the fake blood, but this did not stop me from embracing him exuberantly once he came close enough.

"And the other one?" Mark asked. I couldn't see how I had forgotten about Adam; those were clearly his pleading bellows a moment ago.

I let go of John, not concerned with, and barely noticing, the blood that splotchy and morbidly decorated the front of my sweater.

"He failed." John told us, dispassionately. "Adam did not utilize the advantages in front of him, and he failed to escape."

Amanda hiccupped. "He's…is he still alive?"

"It doesn't matter." I told her sourly. "He's already dead on the inside."

-

I assessed the game in my head, although I wasn't present until the climax.

As we drove away, this was all I knew for sure:

Everyone had failed.

I wished I hadn't fallen asleep.

But the game was over now, and although I was new to this, I deemed it unsuccessful. No one had learned anything, and the ones who could possibly have learned something were dead. No reason to worry about it now. Except there was one who did.

I watched Amanda sit very still and fix her sad, faraway eyes numbly out the window. This whole thing was really getting to her. One day, I hoped, she would be tough enough to handle it…to endure.

Why do the birds go on singing? Why do the stars glow above? Don't they know it's the end of the world…

I liked that song, in my past life. And as I looked at Amanda; rather, through her, I was reminded of it. 'Life does go on' I felt like telling her.