At approximately six-thirty, Eric Matthews' game was nearing its end and Amanda, who had her role to play as well, was paged near that same time by Mark Hoffman. She was lying idly on the bed next to mine, hair in unruly tufts. We waited in the motel where we were hiding out for the duration of the game. Prior to the paging, it had been dead silent in the room, except for the occasional cough or sniffle (Thanks to it being the middle of December) and we both jumped up awkwardly when we heard the series of little beeps.

"Is it?-" I sat up immediately, hoping she would let me see, or at least fill me in properly.

"Shh…" She held a finger to her lips without looking at me; she stared down at the little screen of the pager, carefully reading the instructions.

I waited patiently.

"Well?" I asked.

Without a word, she leaped from the bed, swiftly grabbing her jacket and running for the door. I was like lightning after her. We left so quickly, we didn't even turn off the light or lock the door. I nearly fell down the front stairs chasing her.

"Amanda! You're gonna kill me!"

She sped up. "Better you than John!" She called back.

I almost stopped in my tracks. Not wanting to process what that might have meant, I gained speed, running blindly after her down the empty urban streets.

-

We had run all the way back to the parking lot and driven the van to our first location, where the bathroom was hidden. Somehow, this place tied into the new game, I had guessed. Amanda was proficient, producing a key from her jacket that didn't know she had, and let us into the warehouse.

We weaved into the labyrinth of corridors and eventually found ourselves at the sliding metal doors that served as the entrance into our very first bloodbath. Not exactly thrilled to see what had become of the place in our time away, I moved out of the way so Amanda could do the honors. She heaved them open, turning on the light. The smell was mind numbingly rancid, I meant to cover my nose but wasn't thinking, and so the stench hit me like a semi. That, combined with the sight I unwittingly took in when Amanda turned on the light was enough to kill a fly. I turned, and started violently dry-heaving, putting more strain on my already tormented tummy.

I looked up through watery eyes at Amanda, who was rolling hers, her hand over her nose.

"Lucky for you, you don't have to wait in here." She said with faux sweetness.

"What? Then where do you expect I go?" I was confused yet again.

"Upstairs. Into the house." She said it in the way a person speaks when they expect you to have already known what they have just informed you of. It was just short of belittlement.

"The…where?" Lost was I.

"The. House. You know, the hellhole I just escaped from?" She strolled into the bathroom, with the least bit of cautiousness and began looking around for something.

I stayed where I was. "So you mean…this is where the house was?"

"Obviously. You better hurry and get out of the way; we wouldn't want Eric to suspect that his son isn't actually here…" She spotted what she was looking for and walked towards it, stepping unfazed over a corpse that I assumed was Zep Hindle.

I hesitated, looking behind me. "Right…" I paused, feeling watched. "So you're going to be here?"

"Yep." What she found was a black plastic bag. She opened it, extracting the pig mask and syringes filled with whatever she would need for Eric. From the color I deduced it was John's abduction drug of choice. I wasn't sure then, why would need Eric alive, no matter what the outcome of this game was.

"You sure you don't want me to wait there too? You'd rather be alone?" Not that I actually wanted to accompany her, I was merely asking myself if I were in her position, would I rather be in a room with decaying death alone or with another person?

"Yeah." She paused, contemplating. "This will be like his…redemption. Mine too. Matthews has had this coming to him for a very long time. I think I'd rather try this solo. You don't know how long I've waited for this." She smirked, placing the pig mask over her head.

So, I left Amanda there, closing the door as she hid in the bathroom and waited.

-

I was wishing for a flashlight as I walked down the dark corridors and made my way up the stairs into the house, using the trap door. It was closed when I found it, so I reached up, pushing with both hands until I saw light. Then I poked my head up.

There were two bodies in this room.

I knew the Black male to be Jonas, but there was a sheet covering the other one. Almost thankful to be an unhealthy one hundred and five pounds at my age, I was able to pull myself up into the room with no trouble. Once getting my footing, I closed the secret door carefully, and walked briskly across the floor towards the door which was wide open. As I left, I examined the gun that was rigged into the door. I was intrigued by the first trap already, and was eager to see the rest.

As I came into the hall, the fading waves of the substance irritated the inside of my nose. It was faint though, meaning it was no longer being pumped into the house. There was also a sick kind of aroma that hung in the air, like Death's pheromones. My throat grew dry as I moved further down the long stretch. I stopped in the foyer, observed, and carried on. I tried the staircase, walking up cautiously, watching for any thin wires that may have been drawn out before my legs.

I motivated myself to the top. I had a strong idea of what to expect, keeping in mind that my strong ideas are juxtaposed with a weak soul.

There was a short hall before me, a small number of options to consider. Three doors. As soon as I stepped towards the first one, I heard someone's approach. I ignored it in pursuit of closure. I sped up, trying the first door, it didn't budge. Panicky now, I hurried towards the next. It opened but only slightly and I was able to peek inside and see a large mechanism with clamps for one's hands. I turned away from that door, having only one option left.

As I faced the door, I barely thought before I placed my hand on its knob. I could hear a close set of footsteps now. I turned my head from the door; hand still firm on the handle. Mark's voice called me before I could enter. I was not surprised that he came here after me.

"Don't-" I heard him say urgently.

I looked at him, pensively for a moment, furrowing my brows. "Is she-" I wanted to see for myself. I opened the door too quick, before I could brace myself. My eyes were low, I slowly raised them.

There was a small puddle of blood at her feet. She was limp like an old rag doll, just like I had seen before on the screen.

Nothing compares to the real thing however. It was like I had begun to close up my old wound and then someone ripped me a fresh one with sheer force and anger.

-

"Ellie?" She looks beautiful; she teases her hair that I have just straightened at home. She uses a car window as her mirror.

"Yep. Still here." I assure her. Grinning as I wait for her. I don't try to rush her. It is evening. We are on our way to Addison's new night job; a diner called Roxxane's which stays open twenty-four-seven. She has dolled up for her first day. Actually, it's not as if she doesn't always look amazing. I plan to work 135th until she gets off, and then we plan to walk back to my place for celebratory food and drinks. I hope she will have a superb first day and then she will never look back to her old ways. Ways that I have been trying to shake off, but find daily that I don't have strength. I realize that she is more ambitious and wiser than me, so I pray silently that everything goes smoothly for her. Inward I realize that if Addison can't, no one can.

"Do you think I'm a good dancer? I mean would you pay money to watch me dance?" Addison takes her attention away from her reflection and looks at me directly. This is very important to her and I grasp that. I want my answer to please her, but I want to be honest as well. That seems too hard to do, so I try to make a lighthearted joke instead.

"Depends." I say. She fixes her hair until she deems it sufficient and then she walks away with me.

"On what?" She's taken aback.

"On allota shit." I laugh. "Are you break dancing or lap dancing?" I burst into fits.

She shoves me playfully with a mock angry face. "Neither stupid, like ballet…dancing."

I think about this. I try to imagine Addison in a pink frilly leotard dancing as the Sugar Plum Fairy in The Nutcracker. It seems comical at first, but then I remember how graceful she can be when she's in a good mood and it doesn't strike me as impossible for her to achieve this goal. I imagine myself watching Addison dance as I sit in the largest audience ever before her, and it's not filled with rowdy men, instead filled with gentlemen and ladies with fine taste and cash to burn. I visualize being in my seat that I have legitimately paid two hundred dollars for, and I picture my eyes welling up with tears as she performs. I am the happiest I have been in a long time, because she is my best friend. I recall her dedication and strength of will, and then for the first time, I believe in her dream as much as she does. I smile at her, full of sincerity.

"You? A Ballerina? That's hilarious." Another voice speaks from behind us before I can answer her seriously. The voice's owner has been eavesdropping. It is a male's voice.

"Shut the fuck up David." I say, watching Addison's face fall. "How would you know what she dances like?"

He looks amused, like I just walked right into some joke he planned.

"Oh trust me…" He gives me the once over with his dissecting eyes."…slut. I've seen her dance." He grins a sickeningly satisfied grin.

I roll my eyes, Addison shoves him. "Get the hell outta here you jerk!" We begin to walk faster.

He keeps up with us. He isn't willing to go so easily. "Alright, alright, I'll leave. But first you gotta do something for me. There's something in it for you." He dives into his Armani pants pocket and fishes out a one-hundred dollar bill. He then grabs Addison's wrist, she has stopped and waited for his offer. He tucks it into Addison's hand. He winks deviously. He leans into Addison's ear and murmurs "There's more where that came from..."

"Why can't you just go see one of those prep school blondes of yours?" I step in between them. "Trust fund too small? Among other things…"

"Why can't you get a real job?" He sneers back at me. "Too ignorant to fill out a resume?"

I don't catch his eye; I look to Addison, wondering if she will soon back me up. She is staring down at her fist which holds the money. I worry.

Addison has never turned down David. David has never backed down from his pursuits. Thanks to a false sense of entitlement and too much green. David was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and King Midas for a daddy. His parents were disgustingly rich, unhappily married and willing to leave him everything after they died. Complete with estate and six month old French Poodle, Blondie. David has apparently never worked a day in his glittering life and drives his father's Mercedes everywhere. Especially to this street on irregular Sunday evenings, where he always finds exactly who he's looking for. Exactly who she is, he doesn't care. Exactly what she's willing to do for him, well, that's highly imperative.

I shake my head at Addie. "Don't." I whisper, staring her down.

"Mind your business bitch." David glares at me, I don't see his face. I see a snarling, hungry hyena. I give Addison another look, she doesn't look back. I take a step, trying to get her to follow suit. She stands, looking at me and then looking at David. She makes her decision. She takes my hand, pulling me closer and she speaks into my ear.

"I gotta pay off my mom's bills…" She says desperately. "Then I promise I'm done." I look at her sternly.

"I'm not judging you. I can't." I bite my lip. "I just think…" I sigh. "Forget it."

"Yes, he's obviously a sleaze ball. Which one of these guys out here isn't?" She replies.

I nod regretfully.

"I'll catch you later. I'll probably be at Brenda's." I tell her. She nods and promises to meet me there. She let's go of my hand to take David's. He smirks at me because he knows he has won this battle. I give him the finger. Addison doesn't notice, she is fixing her hair in the car window again.

I watch her go, she blows me a kiss, and I pretend to catch it. But I know it's been picked up by a breeze, falling and drifting away as it dissipates.

-

"Help me get her out of there." I didn't wait for his agreement; I eased inside and then hovered near her for a moment, tip toeing around the blood.

I stared at a piece of abstract art, her red arms painted sharply, her legs dangling side by side. Her soft expression, eyes closed peacefully. She may very well have been sleeping.

I felt arms around me, holding fast and effectively leading me away. I'm sure words were spoken, but I didn't hear. Once I was back in the hall, it was almost as if a trance had been lifted and I was able to focus again. Mark's expression was grim, I noticed because for once I could read him.

"We have to go. I don't know why Amanda sent you here." He gestured to myself and then to our surroundings.

"What?" My voice was at a level tone. It didn't reflect my inner mind.

"John's hurt…" He paused momentarily. The way someone does when they have a lot of bad news, and they want to give it to you one excruciating piece at a time, so as not to overwhelm you. "Bad." He took a grip on my forearms before I could act in response. I had to wait, and take it in.

I broke away from him, stumbling sideways a little. I was having muscle spasms in my leg, and difficulty breathing.

I shook my head. "No." My words said I didn't believe Mark, but my actions showed that I was utterly terrified. He began to lead me away as the blank stare on my face transformed into a pained expression. He started slow for me, but I then broke into a run.

He started after me; we were soon at the same pace. All I could see and hear in my mind's eye was-

"Well, hypothetically of course...and for your sake, let's say something were to happen to John..."

I tried to process the words. "What?" I became angry.

"What if he was seriously hurt, or...Rivielle, what if he died? What would you do then?"

"Nothing." I considered. "I would do nothing. Life would have much less meaning."

I then ran much faster than Mark. Bounding, no, flying down the stairs and eventually, back down the trap door.

-