Dwight was always a bit of a pushover. His whole life he was the one hanging back, never putting himself out there because whenever he tried it was met with backhanded compliments and snide remarks. Everyone in his life begged him to grow a pair yet they mercilessly devoured Dwight's confidence thinking it would result in a backbone forming within him... but all he was left with were countless insecurities and a lack of motivation to be better for anyone, including himself.

Why did everyone care so much about how he managed his life? He couldn't imagine telling someone straight to their face that he thought it was stupid that they didn't behave like other people and therefore they were weird or mentally ill. Dwight had anxiety- so what?

Every day of his life was spent trying to tackle it, resulting in this endless inner battle he was constantly plagued with. His dad used to sit Dwight down at the dinner table every Friday after he turned eighteen and launch a barrage of attacks at him, making him squirm uncomfortably in his seat.

"You haven't been looking hard enough for a job." He would always start with. Then:

"You don't have a girlfriend. In fact, you don't have any friends at all. What do you do all day in your room? You cannot be lazy and sit around doing absolutely nothing Dwight- you have got to work!"

To some degree, Dwight understood his dad. He did need a job and he wasn't expecting his parents to support him the rest of his life. So he went out and landed a position as a delivery driver at PizzaWhat. When he got to twenty-one years old he was promoted to manager- something Dwight was immensely proud of. His folks... not so much.

"C'mon Dwight, you're just gonna be the manager of a pizza parlor your whole life? That's just as bad as being a McDonald's manager, bud." His dad chastised him while they shared their first beer together. His mother, while quietly washing dishes in the kitchen, nodded along with each word her husband spoke. No milestone could ever be enjoyed, it seemed, as Dwight wordlessly downed the last sip of his drink before trudging up the steps without bidding either of them a goodnight.

Those nights seemed so far from him now, the overwhelming heat of the campfire beside him melting away the solemn scene that often took over his memories.

Beside Dwight was Meg, who was all crumpled down in front of the fire. Her hands smothered the tears that escaped her swollen eyes, nose stuffy and throat full of mucus. Her two braided pigtails were falling out, leaves and dirt strewn through the red tangles. He did a once over of her body, really taking in the sight of the blood that coated her petite frame from head to toe. His gut churned.

"Are you okay?" He asked her quietly. It was the dumbest thing he'd ever said to someone before- because of course she wasn't okay. But Dwight wasn't equipped with the right thing to say. He never was.

Thankfully Meg didn't berate him like most people normally did. She just lifted her head up, turning slowly to meet his gaze.

"No." The girl whispered, mouth and eyes all watery with an irreversible sadness. The expression on her face made his heart strings pull down so deep they may have been in the pits of Hell. She looked defeated and scared with every piece of carnage on her skin being illuminated by the devilish looking flames, which poured little dots of light into her eyes that unfortunately captured Dwight's attention. He could see the trauma settling into her right in front of him, just based on the terror swirling within those blue orbs of hers.

His gaze flicked to the other two, Claudette and Jake both sharing the same hollow look. They all were damned. There was no coming back from this even if they escaped to the real world once again. The nightmares, the PTSD, the skewed outlook on life and the things they had experienced here would forever capitalize on their happiness. But this was all hypothetical. He didn't even know if they'd be able to step foot in their world ever again.

The thought terrified Dwight.

"I think the gash on my side is gone..." Jake announced randomly, peeling back his green jacket to examine beneath the layers of clothing. He reached down and pulled up the thermal long sleeve underneath, discovering that indeed the chunk of flesh that used to be split savagely apart was now gone, leaving unscarred skin behind.

"Mine too," Claudette added as she undressed the bandaging she'd done on her shin after Dwight had saved her from the hook. As the bloodied gauze unraveled, it revealed dirty but completely untouched skin beneath. Both of their shoulders were also free of the holes that the hooks had previously punctured.

Extending a hand behind his back, Dwight realized the slice he'd earned heading out the exit gate was also completely nonexistent- as well as the bear trap wound that used to be on his leg.

"Yeah," Meg huffed out. "You should have seen what Dwight did after he got me off the hook..."

Dwight sat up straight, looking to the others around the fire as he suddenly recalled the crazy incident. "There was this syringe in the med-kit... remember Claudette?"

"Yes I do, it was an Anti-Hemorrhagic." She confirmed, while absently touching the places she'd been previously wounded, still not grasping how they were just gone now.

"Right, so I injected it into Meg because she was in..." He stuttered, flashes of flesh and blood overriding his thoughts. "I- In bad shape. And it completely healed her. Like... completely."

"It's toying with us." Jake theorized suddenly, barely giving the revelation a moment to sink in.

"What do you mean?" Dwight asked him.

Jake leaned forward, peering down at his hands nervously. "It... it wants us to suffer but just enough so that we can keep suffering without dying."

No one said anything, yet they all collectively came to the sick conclusion that Jake was probably onto something. Realistically, they all should have been dead. The wounds they sustained were immensely gruesome and may have been survivable in the outside world but still- in most cases they were not going to be. The fact that they all were able to pull through with injuries of that capacity said something in itself. This whole thing... it was built to be efficient in inflicting pain and suffering. It gave them the perfect tools to keep going, like the syringe, yet matched it with horrific agony that felt as bad as it looked but didn't risk your life quite like normal reality would dictate.

What kind of fucked up shit was this?

Later on, Claudette stood and crunched across the leaves to take a seat beside Meg. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of purple fabric, handing it off to the other girl. Dwight absently wondered where she had gotten it.

"Use this to clean yourself up a little." Claudette told her with half of a smile. Meg gleamed a faltering yet thankful expression back at her, taking the feeble rag. She scraped it up and down her arm, dragging across the now dried blood that was plastered against every crevice of her body.

Dwight watched as Meg struggled to clean herself off, soon losing any will to keep trying and eventually tossed the cloth into the fire with an exasperated sigh. The blood was too caked on to easily come off- it would take a year and a half to get one square inch spotless and it would only be because she'd taken her skin clean off from rubbing so hard.

"Thanks for trying..." She muttered to Claudette, who seemed sorry the cloth didn't help more before looking off at the surrounding forest.

"Jake... do you think you could come with me to look for some plants?" Claudette asked, looking at him with hopeful eyes. He seemed slightly apprehensive- for a good reason but decided to indulge after a moment of consideration.

"We aren't going far..." He advised, standing up and stretching. "What do you plan to do with plants?"

"I'm a botanist- I'll make use of them one way or another." She muttered.

Just like that, two of them had disappeared off into the darkness, leaving Meg and Dwight alone together by the fire.

This time he wanted to think of something a little more clever to say to the girl, digging through his options idly beside the fire. Crack a joke? Probably not gonna have a good outcome since they just escaped a nearly agonizing slaughter at the hands of some crazed monster. Ask about her life? She most likely wanted to forget it existed because there's a chance they won't ever make it back there. Maybe something more simple...?

"So..." He hummed sheepishly. "What's your favorite color?" Awe Jesus... he cringed internally as soon as the words flopped out of his mouth. That was so weird and awkward, silence probably being so much better than that. Dwight wanted to slap himself right then and there for asking an even more stupid question than before.

Meg stared down at the blood stained on her fingertips. "It used to be red," She sniffled. Dwight remained quiet, realizing conversing with other humans was just not his forte, especially not initiating conversations at that. Now wasn't the time for the people around him to deal with his uncharismatic tendencies.

The fire crackled, filling the silence between them for a short time.

"Dwight?" Meg said softly, voice cracking the slightest bit. He turned, finding the girl staring at him.

"Yeah?"

She shrugged, thinking about what she wanted to say for a second. "How... how are you so calm right now?"

He chuckled, finding the question legitimately amusing. "You think I'm calm right now?" His incredulous reaction made Meg reaffirm herself with a nod.

It caused him to think about it for a moment. He supposed living twenty-four years with heavy anxiety day in and day out somewhat exposed him to what it's like to be in a constant state of fight or flight. While it was nowhere near similar to what they were experiencing now, it still served as a way to harden him against the severe conditions. That was his only real explanation but maybe it was something else entirely. It was only his own self reflection, not necessarily a stone cold fact about his psyche.

Weirdly enough, being in this situation had him in his element. He was guiding everyone with the generators, directing people where to go and shoveling out other orders to keep them all alive. Something about it just clicked in his head. He wished it didn't have to be like this in order for Dwight to finally feel like he had a purpose, yet there he was being as unlucky as always. He only hoped he could do some good while they were stuck there, possibly redeeming himself after spending years disappointing everyone he'd ever known.

If he was gonna die he may as well make up for being a dead beat loser by keeping the team together for a short while.

"I guess after I got over the initial shock... Well, I just accepted it and tried to fix the situation." He shrugged. Meg looked as if she was mulling over his words, staring off into the fire. They shared another few moments of silence.

"Y'know, you're a good leader, Dwight." She commented after a while. Again, he met her gaze and found that this time her lips were curled upward, just a little even though tears continued to brim her eyes in total contrast of the gesture. There was something so sweet and genuine about her words that the tiniest burst of warmth entered his belly. No one had ever been so kind to him before for no reason other than to let him know he was doing good. He appreciated it with his whole heart, despite the high chances of said heart getting graphically impaled within the next hour. That gruesome thought aside, her well intentioned compliment left an impact on him- being something he'd remember for a long time, if not forever.

The ghost of a smile graced over his mouth. "Thanks, Meg."

Some crunching footsteps could be heard from the distance, soon Claudette and Jake emerging from the darkened forest- the botanist cradling a ton of different plants against her bosom. Jake reached into his jacket and pulled out a petite pouch from one of his pockets, tossing it off to the girl. She gratefully accepted it, beginning to root through the different leaves and stems and whatever else, carefully stuffing the pieces she salvaged into the pouch.

After she was done, Claudette fetched the med-kit that they managed to bring back to the campfire from the trial, shoving her now full pouch within it. As soon as she clasped the thing shut, the fog began to roll in around them.

"Already?" Meg said despairingly. They all stood, wondering the same thing as her.

Dwight clenched his fists together, watching as the fog crept up to them, higher and higher until his vision was completely obscured by a thick, gray wall that was so dense you couldn't see through it.

For a single moment Meg's words echoed in his head, making him feel the slightest bit prepared to do what he had to in order to protect them all.

Then just like that, the fog began to fade away...