The Haunted


"Drowning"


~Oh oh oh, Ah ah ah

Please God tell me we're dreaming

Oh oh oh, Ah ah ah

Please God tell me we're dreaming~


May Redding

I'm sick and tired of this place. I hate Ariya for acting crazy (crazier than usual, at least) and not wanting to leave this place and acting like an asshole. I hate Arno and Ainsley for falling apart and leaving everything up to the rest of us to get us out of here. I hate Everly for voting for us to stay even though she's sane enough to now how stupid of an idea that is. I hate Pierre for losing his last shred of sanity and storming off on his own. And most of all I hate myself for not just saying fuck all of these people and walking out the door even if it's by myself.

Everything's been so fucked that I'm almost numb to all of it. The dusty old walls, the creaky floorboards, the bedsheets that transform the hallways into a maze. Even the smatterings of blood on the walls are barely worth more than a passing glance.

I'm just too tired. I can see everyone around me slipping away, and I can feel the same thing happening to me too. I'm trying to hold on but it's getting so hard. A part of me wonders if I shouldn't just give in, let somebody else figure this out and just sleepwalk through the rest of this nightmare like Ainsley and Arno.

It's tempting. But I'm not sure if there's anybody that I can trust to do it. The list of sane members in our alliance was small enough before we got into this place, I don't even want to think about what it's looking like now. Not that I can judge. It's more than just a lack of sleep that's putting me on edge.

The television from last night is still eating away at me. I should just be pushing it aside. It's just Gamemaker shit, nothing out of the ordinary. They don't do it often, but it isn't totally unheard of them for them to bring shit from your life into the arena. They just used their ridiculous technology to make it look like Dad killed that girl. I would've known about it. I've seen his games too many times for there to be anything in there that's secret.

But if they were going to go through all of that effort to fake it, why something so minor? It doesn't make him look like a monster. It just makes him look like most victors do. Not many victors get the luxury of only killing monsters. So maybe it is true. Which would mean he's been hiding that from me. Or maybe it's fake and they're trying to just throw me off my game. Or maybe it doesn't matter either way because it's doing its job regardless.

Because either way the subtext is there. It's a taunt. Arno may have lied to the others for some reason, but he couldn't lie to the cameras. Everybody out there knows what a fake I am. They saw me freeze, know that I couldn't do the one thing Careers are supposed to do.

A familiar hallway opens up in front of me and I head in to investigate. Anything to shove away this stupid internal monologue that's leaving me one step away from joining Ainsley and Arno in the living room smashing my fist against my head.

It doesn't take long for me to stumble upon a familiar-looking room. The hole in the wall is still there, unmistakably the same one that Ariya and I stumbled into the first day here. The message on the wall is still there too, KEEP OUT written in dried blood all over the entrance. But just below the dark red message is a fresher one, the bright red ink still trickling down the wall.

YOU SHOULD HAVE LISTENED

"I fucking hate this place," I whisper to myself. I feel myself teetering in place, drawn between turning and getting as far away as possible and doing the incredibly stupid and diving into the hole in the wall Ariya style. It strikes me for a moment that Ariya never did explain what she found in there.

A chill runs through my spine at that thought. If my mind weren't running at one thought a minute the gears in my head might be able to turn enough to figure out what it is that's eating away at me, but instead, I'm just left with the sinking feeling that something is wrong.

Something drips onto my head. I bring a hand up expecting to find water, but my hand meets something warmer. I look up and watch as a drop of blood falls through the cracks of the ceiling and lands on my cheek. It intensifies, a lone drip turning into a steady trickle. I back away and watch as it falls onto the floor.

I'm ready to shout out, to run upstairs to see what's going on up there, when something catches my gaze in the corner of my eye. I stand perfectly still, stretching my eyeballs as far as they can shift into the periphery.

A figure stands in the corner of the room.

My hand goes slowly to my belt. The blood stream quickens, transforming into the sound of falling rain as it spreads outward, blood trickling from every inch of the ceiling and splashing onto the floor with tiny little thuds. The figure stands completely still.

My hand wraps around the familiar handle of my dagger. My feet shift for positioning on the slick wooden floorboards. I hold my breath.

A floorboard creaks.

I spin around, dagger extended as I slash out wildly, silver steel cutting through air and red raindrops. And slicing against flesh. The girl's throat spills open, her body still where she stands. The dagger falls from my hands, clattering against the floor as I stagger back.

"I– I didn't mean to. You– you were further back. I thought–" the words fumble from my mouth, but she doesn't react. She stays eerily still, blood trickling from the cut on her throat as hollow eyes pierce through me. I notice for the first time the girl isn't any of the outliers. She looks like a stranger, almost, but there's something familiar about her, the gears in my mind spinning to make that connection.

I take a step toward her, tilting my head as I look at her face, trying to remember. It's right there, just barely out of reach. Then, I blink, and she's gone. I rub my eyes, but that does nothing to change it. No girl, no cut throat. I look for my dagger and spot it on the ground. Blood covers the blade, but I can't tell if it's from the girl or the increasingly steady rainfall of blood coming from the ceiling.

I scoff, taking a half-step backward. "I'm seeing things. I'm going crazy."

I back into something. A familiar voice whispers into my ear. "That's nothing new though, is it?"

I'm pushed forward and I struggle to keep my footing, slipping against the slick wood floor as I shift for balance. My head is on a swivel, twisting around in an instant. The sight freezes me in place, locking my limbs in place.

A mirror image of myself stands in front of me, a dark smile on her face and a dagger in her grasp that she flips casually from hand to hand. Everything else about her is like I'm looking into my reflection. Hair, clothes, face, everything.

I shake my head and laugh. "So this is it, huh? That's all you have? Just gonna keep on making me see things? I'm not gonna be scared of my imagination."

Her smile brightens, a more cheerful and lighthearted one as she lets out a high-pitched laugh that makes my ears ring. She flourishes the dagger in her hand, twirling it around her fingers as she takes a few measured steps toward me. I don't back away though. I'm done letting the Gamemakers fuck with my head. I'm not playing their games.

She giggles. "We're so cute when we try to be brave."

"I swear if I have to hear one more person call me cute–" I cut myself off as she lashes out at me suddenly, her dagger swinging at me in a wild yet familiar way, slicing its way toward my throat.

Instinct takes hold and I swerve backward, the blade missing my throat but slicing against my chest, tearing through my shirt and making a thin laceration. I look down at my chest and move my hand toward it, my hand shaking as it comes back covered in much more real blood. My eyes shoot up to the mirror of me and she flashes a smile and a curtsy.

I lurch for the dagger on the ground. She's a step ahead of me. Her boot connects with my jaw, the kick sending me sprawling backward and onto the floor. I crawl up to my knees but she's already there before I can get my hands up, a kick connecting with my chest this time as I bend backward.

I break into a roll and pop up to my feet, instantly throwing up my fists as I take a few hesitant steps away from her. She isn't chasing though, taking her time to saunter over to the dagger on the floor and kick it away before shifting her attention back to me.

Frustration takes hold of me and I charge at her, lowering my shoulder and feinting a tackle before skidding to a halt. She's not tricked for a second. I bring up my fist but her dagger is there before I can even begin to strike, the blade sinking into my shoulder as I scream out in pain.

I stagger back a step but she doesn't let up. She swings at me with a wide arc and I bring up my forearm to block her blow by meeting her wrist. It works to stop her swing, but again she isn't hazed for even a moment, the dagger flicking from hand to hand as she sinks the blade into my stomach.

It takes all my will to not pull away, but I force myself to stay put, my fist connecting with her nose with all the force I have. The hit sends shockwaves through my knuckles and up through my arm all the way up to my shoulder. I scream out, the pain nearly distracting me from the shooting pain in my stomach as she pulls the blade out and backs away, screaming herself as she brings a hand up to her nose.

My breath is ragged, my whole body tipsy as I struggle to stay standing. Everything is screaming out at me, my stomach, my shoulder, my fist, my legs. I can barely breathe, each gasp of air sending needles of pain through my ribs.

She laughs, wiping away a streak of blood from her nose as she circles me, forcing me to struggle to keep parallel with her, my feet shifting against the slick wood floor. "So weak. So scared. Always so busy trying to pretend to be somebody else that we never look at ourself long enough to know how fragile we are."

"Stop. Saying. We," I pant out.

She smiles in an eerily cheery way. "Don't worry," she lilts. "Soon, when I'm slitting all your friends' throats, I'll just be saying me."

She starts moving toward me and I start to back away, but I quickly bump into the wall. Nowhere left to go. Nowhere to run. For a brief, terror-filled moment, fear takes hold. I push it away. I suck in a deep breath, and I close my eyes.

Pain is most of what I can feel. But there's more. My shoes, slick on the wet wooden floor. Drops of blood, falling from the ceiling and hitting my skin. Taste, smell, that's all the same, that overwhelming sense of blood flooding my senses. But I push past it, on what else is there. I can hear raindrops, but beyond that is footsteps, splashing and sliding along the floor, closer and closer.

I open my eyes. She's just in front of me, dagger swinging out in that same wild, familiar arc toward my throat. I bring up my forearm to block and things play in repeat, the blade stopping just short of me as my arm blocks her wrist. She flicks the blade out of her blocked hand and toward her free one. But I don't give her the chance. I spin into her and elbow her in the nose, a fresh crunching noise erupting as she staggers back and hollers out in pain, hands shooting up to her face.

The dagger clatters to the floor. I'm there to swoop it up in an instant, my momentum carrying me into her as I slash out wildly. She brings up an arm to block but I pull back, feinting as she throws herself off balance. Her shoes skid against the wet floor and she slips, barely catching herself from planting facefirst into the ground. She looks up just in time to see the dagger cut across her throat.

Her hands go up to her throat, her knees sliding against the floor as she struggles to stay upright. Her eyes widen in shock, red splinters running across the whites in her eyes as they shake in her socket, looking up at me with something almost like anger, but sadder. She opens her mouth and tries to say something, but nothing comes out but the last bits of expelled air from her throat. Water begins to form in her eyes, and I can't stand to look anymore. I take a step toward her and push her back, wincing as she lands on the floor with a thud. She shakes and writhes on the floor for a minute longer before her body slows and eventually stills.

The falling blood slows to a trickle and then stops, the sound of my ragged breathing suddenly so loud. I drop to my knees, wincing as my entire body screams out in sudden pain. My eyelids feel heavy and I can feel my eyes starting to fall shut, my body swaying.

A muffled scream echoes out from the hole in the wall, and I crawl back to my feet.

Ariya Arden

I'm ninety-nine percent sure this book really isn't English. I've tried reading a few of the sentences in them out loud, and it just absolutely is not something that I've ever heard another human being say, no matter how obnoxiously posh their vocabulary.

But hopefully, that won't matter. May left what must have been a half-hour ago now and there hasn't been any cannon yet, so that means she's probably not dead in a pool of her own blood yet. Which means she can go and get the rest of the pack, who are also all hopefully still not dead yet.

It shouldn't be long now. Just a little bit longer and I'll be out of this dusty basement and outside, basking in the sunlight and working on a fresh new tan. No endless hours stuck with nothing but May and my thoughts and an unreadable handful of books.

"You only had to hold on for a little longer."

My head snaps around. But there's nobody behind me. I stand up and circle around the room, floor to ceiling, but there's nothing. I shake my head and hit myself in the head. Too much time stuck doing nothing in this tiny little room reading books. It's like the academy all over again, driving me insane. Making me hear things. I can't shake away the voice that was behind the words though.

"Why'd you let go?"

I spin around on a heel, knife suddenly in my hand as I step toward the sound of the voice, nothing but empty, musky air around me. My fists tighten, blood vessels popping as my knuckles go white, the rubber handle digging into my skin.

"Let go of what?" I ask through gritted teeth. Nothing responds and I almost laugh. I'm talking to the voices in my head. I'm going crazy. Actual. Real. Crazy.

"You had everything you wanted." I spin around and the voice cuts out, then picks up from the other side of the room. "It was in your hands." I turn and the voice hops elsewhere again. "You tried for so long to hold onto everything. Why let go when it was finally all wrapped around your fingers?"

"Whatever you're trying here," I call out loudly to the ceiling. "It isn't going to work if I don't even know what you're talking about."

"I know that you'll lie to yourself, but I didn't think that you'd lie to me."

I scoff. "Yeah, sorry voice in my head for lying to you." I turn back to the desk, ready to bury my head into the wood and ignore all of this. I make it half a step before I freeze in place, the muscles in my body stiff, the blood running through my body going ice cold.

Nefeli is sitting in front of me, her legs dangling off the desk as she looks at me with that familiar, cheeky smile that was so worn-in it might as well have been carved into her lips. "It hasn't been long enough for you to forget my voice, has it?"

It's silent for a long, long moment. She doesn't say anything else, waiting for me to respond, sitting there patient and passive and so, so real, like I could take a few steps forward and she'd really be there.

I laugh. It doesn't sound very convincing. "Good job," I call out. "You really did your research, huh? Really dug around my history. What do you expect now, to spill my guts out and say how sorry I am for everything that happened? Like it's all my fault?"

"No, I don't expect that," she says. "You never said sorry to the real me, why would you apologize to a ghost?"

"Apologize?" I cough out a breathless laugh. "What would I apologize for? I– I didn't do anything wrong. I wasn't the one who disappeared, who– who just vanished off the face of the earth like I didn't already just have everything ripped away from me because I was just trying to protect you."

"Ripped away," she says quietly. She smiles and shakes her head, like I'm a toddler who just said something amusing, something silly and adorable.

"Ripped away," I say again, more forcefully. The words spill out of me, slinging out like bullets. "My family, not that I had one to begin with. Like I wasn't the Arden who always didn't belong. My chance to volunteer, my spot at the academy, the only thing that gave me any sort of purpose or life or anything. My life, my home, my family, my future, and I didn't even care that I lost all of that, that it was all taken away like it never even belonged to me, because none of that mattered. Because I thought I still at least had you. And then, yeah, I guess you– you weren't ripped away. You pulled yourself away from me." My voice goes quiet, the onslaught of words rushing from my mouth slowing to a stop. "Just like Ashuah. Just like everybody."

Her smile turns to a pout as she wipes a fake tear from her eye. "Poor Ariya, always the victim, always the tragedy. Always having everything ripped away." She hops off the desk and takes a long step toward me. "Is that what happened with Vasili Vourdes?"

I shake my head, taking a half step backward. "What?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

"When you were holding him underwater. Was he ripped away from you?"

"He– he slipped," I stumble over my words, holding up a hand as she takes another long, slow, measured step toward me. I take a step back and I hear the sound of splashing water. I look down to see water at my feet, filling up the room to my knees.

"He slipped," she says slowly, mockingly.

"It was an accident, a mistake, I–"

She laughs. "An accident. Just like the bucket that accidentally fell on Koronai's head, right?"

I shake my head. "It's not like that. It's nothing like that. Why would– why would I let Vasili Vourdes go? If I could go back and do it again, I would–"

"You would do the same thing you always do." She takes another step toward me and now there's nowhere else to go back. She takes hold of my wrists and the knives drop from my hands. The feeling of her skin on mine feels familiar, real. I look up at her and she smiles sadly, her hand coming up and brushing a strand of hair from my eye. "You would let go."

She pushes me, and I'm falling.

My eyes close as I wait to hit the hard floor, but never do. A splash fills my ears before the world is dropped into a haze. Water surrounds me. My eyes open wide. And water surrounds me.

I try to push up, but her hands push down on my chest, clamping me to the floor, pushing me under. She's just a blur through the water, but I can see her above me, see the features in her face. I can see that same sad smile on her lips. See them opening to say something that's lost through the muffled sound of rippling waves as I struggle to reach for air.

My mouth opens wide and I scream, a muffled sound that pushes quietly through the water. I can feel my head going light, my lungs screaming for air that refuses to come. I thrash out at Nefeli, kicking and punching but nothing makes her move. She just keeps holding on. Keeps holding me under.

My eyes drift shut.

"Ariya?"

THUD, the sound of someone dropping onto the floor. I open my eyes, and there's no Nefeli. No water. I gasp for air and it's suddenly there, my lungs filling as I shoot up, greedily gasping for air as my hands shoot to my throat. My eyes shoot around the room, but there's nothing to see. No Nefeli, no water, not even a trace. Not even a ghost.

May stands at the other side of the room, leaning over, a hand on her gut, a weary look on her face. Blood covers her head to toe, staining her hair and face and clothes and even her teeth when she opens her mouth up to let in a ragged breath. Fresh blood is trickling out of a few open wounds on her stomach and shoulder and chest and knuckles.

My voice comes out shaky and hollow, a quiet breathless whisper that barely reaches her. "What the hell happened to you?"

She swallows a lump in her throat and takes a staggered step toward me. She offers me a hand and I take it, trying not to pull her to the floor with me as I climb to my feet. Her voice comes out barely any louder than my own. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Yeah," I say, my voice slowly regaining itself but still shaking with every sound it chokes out. "Fine by me."

She looks at me wearily, then shakes her head. "Come on, let's get out of here."

I let out a breathless laugh at that that quickly turns into a deathly coughing fit. "Did you find something to get us out?"

She looks at me oddly. "What?"

"We need to- to get a rope or something. To-" I nod my head toward the hole in the wall that she just came back from

"Why?"

I almost laugh again, but stop myself before I pull a hamstring. "To get back up. To get out."

She stares at me for a moment, her eyes seeming to consider something as she looks me up and down. Finally, she just motions with her head behind me. I follow her gaze, and I'm not sure whether I want to laugh or cry but I know it has to be one or the other.

Right in the middle of the wall, a large wooden door stands, dusted and rotten, a shiny brass doorknob suddenly seeming like the brightest thing in the dim, candlelight room.

Ethan Faber

It's been two days now. Forty-eight hours, give or take a few, since all six of my so-called allies headed off into the forest in pairs to go hunt. And not a single one has returned. Two canons have gone off, the first one belonging to one of the boys from Eleven and the other going off just a few hours after last night's anthem and yet to be revealed.

Two days. Three pairs. Two kills. None of it makes any sense. It's infuriating and annoying and stressful and terrifying and a million other emotions I can't name. The first night I didn't sleep one lick, my eyes cracked open the whole night as I watched from the top of the Cornucopia's metal hull and waited for somebody to return.

Last night I didn't have that same luxury. I fought it over for about a half-hour after the anthem, weighing the options in my head, before biology decided that argument for me and sent me tumbling into a deep sleep that I was in desperate need of.

I'm thinking more clearly now and can appreciate that rest, but it doesn't erase my confusion or dim my fears. If somebody had decided to attack the Cornucopia last night I would've never woken up. My throat would've been slit and that would've been it for me. All because my shitty allies decided to go on an extended vacation. Or something.

I know that logically speaking the reason that they've been missing is because they're in trouble. Either stuck in a battle with some outliers, or more likely caught up in some Gamemaker trap battling whatever mutts they threw into this arena. It's a chilling thought and I'm stuck halfway between hoping they just forget about me and I get to avoid whatever the Gamemakers are throwing at them, with my other half knowing I should go out there and try to help.

There are reasons that I can come up with to stay here. The easiest one is that it's my job. I stay here until they return and guard the base. None of them have died yet (probably) and so there's no reason for me to go anywhere. And if I do leave, what if they come back a few moments later and are suddenly left wondering where I am? And then where am I stuck? It's not like it would be easy to find them out there in the woods, if that's even where they still are. Considering they were in pairs, they might not even all be in the same place.

No, staying put is the right move. I just have to hope that they come back soon before I have to go to sleep again without anyone keeping watch. A quiet, dark part of my mind whispers and hopefully with a few fewer members of the alliance. I shush that dark inner thought, no matter how enticing it is. Even if I don't like all of them, they're my allies, and that has to mean something.

I sigh tiredly, giving my sword another lazy swing through the air before tossing it to the ground. The boredom might be the worst part of this. I look out at the lake down the hill for a long moment, taking in the scenic view.

"Stop sightseeing," I murmur to myself. "Need to keep guard."

That reminder is an unarguable one, but my perch atop the metal hull isn't exactly a fun way to spend my time, so I drag my feet as I shuffle over towards it. A bow and a sword are both up there already so there's no need to take any of the weapons that I've scattered across the floor up there. I've toyed with the idea of organizing things while I wait, but the thought of dragging every crate of food, supplies, and weapons to the center metal hull all by myself sounds even more hellish than my silent perch. It can wait for when everybody else is back, we can call it a teambuilding exercise or something.

Footsteps.

I spin around. One of the small outlier girls is charging headlong at me from the treeline, her feet loudly stomping against the ground with an almost exaggerated effort. When she sees that I see her she lets out a scream, raising her sling in the air and placing a stone in it.

Confusion almost freezes me in place, but training kicks in and I scamper over to the sword I just threw to the floor, picking it up and bracing myself as she continues to charge my way. I meet her eyes. And notice that she isn't staring at me.

I turn around just in time to parry the spear thrust that the boy from Six sends my way. He seems taken aback, unready or unsure of what to do, and that moment of hesitation is enough. I lift my sword up and am ready to deliver the blow, but a rock pelts me in the back of the head and sends me stumbling to the side, pain searing across my skull.

"Fuck!" I mutter. I spin around and wildly slash out with my sword in a long arc. The outlier girl isn't anywhere near me though, keeping her distance as she loads another stone into her sling. I take a threatening step toward her and she drops the stone, scampering backward.

I hear footsteps from behind me and I spin around just in time to meet Azai's spear again. This time I flick the spear away as I parry. He doesn't seem to know how to react, and the spear sails out of his hands, landing harmlessly on the ground. I raise my sword again, but again I'm interrupted, this time by the sound of more pounding footsteps as the boy from Five charges at me.

I'm not able to get my sword up in time and he charges into me. It's all I can do to stay on my feet and keep hold of my sword. He punches me hard in the cheek but I don't allow myself a response. I shove him off of me and swing out, the sword cutting his shirt as he dances away, just out of reach of the blade.

I cuss in frustration as another rock pelts me in the back of the head as my situation sinks in. Three outliers taking me on. Each of them going one at a time, circling me and egging me on but not long or hard enough that there's any chance they get killed. They're circling me, trying to tire me out. Probably waiting for a fourth ally to close in and totally box me in. Which leaves two options. Run, or cut my way out.

The boy goes to pick up his spear and I make a split decision. I push aside restraint and carefulness and charge headlong at him, sword raised above my head. To his credit, he doesn't balk or freeze. He reaches for his spear and jabs out. An inch to the side and it would have speared straight through my heart and killed me in an instant. But I dodge just enough out of the way, and he has no room to dodge away when my sword cuts through the flesh of his neck and knocks his head off his shoulder in one clean swoop.

BOOM!

"Azai!" A high-pitched voice screams from behind me.

Someone small leaps onto my back and I quickly elbow them off and onto the ground. The boy from Five charges at me but I get my sword up and lash out at his chest. This time the blade connects with more than just cloth. My blade digs through his chest and across his arm and he leaps back, shouting out in pain as he stumbles away from me. I look over to the girl with the sling and she's frozen in place, a rock squeezed tightly in her hand as she stares at me with fire burning in her eyes.

And then she turns and runs. The boy seems more hesitant but staggers after her slowly. Too slowly. I make to follow, but pause as I nearly trip over the girl on the ground that leapt onto my back. The girl from Twelve grips tightly onto my leg, refusing to let go even as I try to shake her aside. I bring up my sword but pause before bringing it down on her.

She looks up at me, thin arms wrapped around my leg as her eyes stare up defiantly but shake with fear. It's the same look as the girl from Eight. I imagine my sword digging through her stomach in that same way, that quiet gasp escaping as her body goes still, her eyes lifelessly flickering off.

And I freeze.

It's only a moment, a few seconds, but it's enough. She pushes me weakly and makes to run away but instantly trips and falls down to the floor. I step over her, my hands shaking as I push the blade up to her chest. All I have to do is push down. Just get it over with.

Her whole body is shaking, and her voice too as she squeaks out, "Go ahead, do it. Just like you did to Alyssane."

I swallow a lump in my throat. "Tell me what that was," I say in a hoarse voice, my eyes shooting up to ensure the two others are still running away before going back to her.

"I'm not telling you anything," she says, her voice fighting to sound brave.

I hold the sword above her and I can feel the weight of the blade in my hands, suddenly feeling so much heavier than it ever has before. And I can't bring myself to let it fall.

"Fuck," I mutter breathlessly. I motion with the blade for her to get up. "Come on," I say, repeating the motion as she stares at me blankly.

"Come on, what?"

"Get up," I say, unsure myself what my plan is. "We're going back to the center before your allies come back for another sneak attack."

"And then what?" She asks.

I don't respond to that, just repeating the motion again and waiting until she hesitantly crawls to her feet, my sword still placed against her back as I motion for her to start moving. But the question repeats in my head, and no answer calls back in response.

And then what?


A/N: Day Four, part two of four. Originally was 4 or 5 povs but I cut it down for length/pacing/tone reasons, which might mean day four will be five parts now? We'll see.