| Chapt. Five | Stricken |

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Sweat and terror penetrate soft seconds of darkness.

Hours of restful sleep all lead to one frightful awakening, a plummet into madness and hell.

My fingers instinctively claw into my surroundings, a cough masquerading for the scream that wants to tear out of my throat. The sheets swallow me, pressing in around every inch of skin and locking me into place. My soul is sucked down through the mattress, into nothing but a dark pit.

The intense pressure releases and I'm falling, hands splaying out above me in hopes of catching something.

Anything.

I feel my lungs clench up inside my chest, tears flickering out to the corner of my eyes and blurring any vision I have left.

Two breathy pants escape me before my bare back slams into the grass.

Curling into myself, shakes and shivers betray my confidence. A simple breath might push me over the edge in mere moments. The panic pushes beaded tears down my cheeks with little effort, the attack surging upwards and rattling my very being.

Dizzy, so dizzy.

"Contestants..." a familiar, smooth purr whispers in a gust of night. Death. "Your new lives await you, but first you must be prepared to handle the impossible. Only you know what that is."

I shut my eyes and scrub them hard. Make it stop.

Dear God just make it stop.

The sounds of another impact rustles against a bush yards in the distance. A soft chuckle responds.

"Do not tempt fate, lest you wish for something worse than death itself. But should you accept, take the gear provided and make your way to the center of the maze. Your Handlers will be waiting for you."

Labored breathing turns my saliva into a molten oil, coating my throat and restraining what is left of anxious tears. Forcing myself to relax, I grip the grass and squeeze my eyes shut.

Slimy strands are alive and yet somehow plastic. Unmistakably fake. Black veins flowing from the center inward and deep into the roots below.

Reality must come from somewhere.

One blink.

Two blinks.

Demetri, the underworld, earning my life back.

Everything floods back to me in short bursts. I had been abducted into a grueling contest, somewhat against my will, to return to my life before.

Nathan's broken face makes my stomach twist and I spit up in the grass, vision shaking and blurring in and out of place.

I stand and stumble towards an awkward table, only to find a slick black bodysuit similar to what I'd seen Demetri in yesterday. Slots for weapons embroider the sides and several pockets line the hips but vanish with nothing to hold.

The fabric sticks against my thighs and underarms uncomfortably at first but eases with a few minutes of stretching. Warm and safe, I analyze my surroundings and wipe my face. There is only one path before me, but I know better than to think it's a straight shot to the center.

"I just wanted to sleep," I whisper, looking at my hands and noticing a lack of cuts and bruises.

Nothing on the table can truly be considered self-defense, but I find a sizable walking stick in one of the shrubs.

Twigs and dead leaves crack and break with footsteps lurking in the shadows, but others are very far away. Different sets, enough sound to flood the air and confuse anyone about the proper location of our destination.

I take a few hesitant steps forward before finding a slow pace to creep around the edges of walls. Two lefts and a right.

A cloud drifts over the pale moonlight and creates an endless dark. The kind miserable children's books depict to make a kid wary of any forest. The fear starts in the mind and pressure builds up like a well, bubbling over and out of the brain. The chills we get, sick ripples of water pouring down the spine.

A shriek rips through the silent shuffling.

Silence follows, everyone surely stilling.

My fingers knead into the large staff-like wood, ready to flip the edge and club an unsuspecting attacker over the head. Another scream cuts off prematurely.

With my free hand massaging my chest, I attempt to sooth the raging heart pounding inside. The beats are so random, my mind starts to reel through all the possibilities. Murder, torture, a simple jump scare.

That kind of screaming doesn't come from a small fright.

Leaves break in a steady, fast rhythm. A thudding that comes from the east and bursts through an opening to my right. Blonde hair flashes in the wind and tumbles after the thin girl, her sobs almost fueling her on.

Lacey continues scraping and clawing through the walls, blind agony written all over her flushed face.

"Lac-" I reach out to catch her.

"Get away from me!"

My hesitant hand is smacked so hard I fall to my knees.

Sweat glistens off both of us, but her hair and clothes are soaked with tears as well.

Her fingers drip with blood from digging out a large hole.

It's only a second before she shoulders her way through another wall and disappears into the night.

Lights flash, a tense shift coming over me as I look at the sky. Blankets of clouds wherever the eye can see and nothing short of black. Drops fall slow at first, more lightning breaking through the clouds. Thunder follows in suit.

My skin becomes slick with wet rain, a tinged color unrecognizable to me. Perhaps unique from the reality on earth.

Numb, I keep pushing myself further and further. A few steps and my legs give out again. Even determined, I feel my hands and knees sloshing through mud and grass with a heavy restraint.

The center could be a mile away, there was never any indication.

My brain throbs and spins, eyes closing.

They open once and find nothing but a torrential downpour and rough terrain.

Closing again, I'm shocked.

Gentle carpet brushes my dry palms and cradles my head nicely. The floor is plush enough to tell me exactly where I am.

I hear the sound of shattering glass and burst into action, shoving off the ground and barreling downstairs only to find my mother's vacant eyes staring into a pile of broken glass and lettuce. A cherry tomato rolls up to and hits my shoe.

"Carman, they've done all they can."

She shakes her head, nearly snarling at my father. "No. No. My baby girl is dead! Dead, Ronald! They haven't lifted a finger to investigate that neighbor. And all for what? A late night party? A conspiracy?"

"You think this about the Johnson Case?"

My heart seizes. I brace my hand on a wall and refrain from rushing to my mother's side. Every second the woman breathes, she denies my involvement in the Johnson case. Always protecting me, always one step ahead of the investigation.

"Do you really think the man was drunk, Ron? A relative of hers just out one night, who accidentally target's our Holiday? No. This was planned. Staged."

I never knew who ran me over...

My father, a lean man in his thirties, approaches the distraught grief boiling inside my mother. Dark frizzy curls bounce in front of her eyes and cover the skin smooth and bright like clay. His fingers trace up and down her shoulder in a delicate soothing motion.

She loses all composure in those moments, fingers wringing the hem of his work shirt while sobbing heavily into the nape of his neck.

"We can't get her back, Sweetheart, but we can do everything in our power to make sure he pays."

His level headed demeanor suffers momentarily, a few soft tears wetting his cheeks. My dad strokes her back for several minutes before the loving couple fully embrace and lean into one another.

I don't feel the empty tears falling freely down each cheek or the surging pain in my heart until my knees go weak again and I'm sliding down the wall. My hands cover me, trying to shove all the emotion away but nothing can make this better.

"I hope Nathan's doing alright..." I hear her murmur.

A sharp pain replaces the dull ache and I look around. Most things are still the same, there are no boxes or missing photographs.

But there is no Nathan cleaning up beside them, helping as he always did.

I look at my rather transparent form, flexing slightly to check for capabilities, and inch up to my parents. Their fingers link together on the tabletop and I gingerly rest a hand on top.

They just graze right though.

"I'll win," I say, a strange assurance filling my voice. "I promise I'll win and come back to you."

With that in mind, I turn and run for the door. Run for his apartment.

A blur of cars and streets rush past me, adrenaline pooling up and energizing my every move. A few blocks and I trip into the neighbor's mailbox, sailing through it and onto the cement below.

My mind is in a hurry, moving faster than this body.

But the car isn't in the driveway and no one is making any noise from inside. It only leaves one other option.

My own apartment.

This trip takes time. What feels like half an hour to reach the small community building and another ten to wander inside.

I pass through the front door as if I am a ghost. All that is left of me is soul and heartbreak, eating me away by the hour that in his likely attempt to hunt me down, Nathan had to see me die instead.

I creep through the old kitchen, noticing a bunch of packed dishes and scrapped leftovers in the trash bag. A fork is left on the floor for some unclear reason, tiny scuffs marking near the prongs.

A bunch of newspaper clippings are still strewn about the dining room table, an unfinished job search all but pointless now.

Dim light filters in from each and every window, but with the setting sun, it barely illuminates anything. My heart begins resting, hands dragging over the counters and clothes, the furniture I miss plunking into every night before bed.

I feel alone.

Until I hear something quiet. A whisper or sniffle, something barely audible and yet so out of place.

Heading into the bedroom, my eyes fixate on Nathan's crying form in Winter Braxton's fragile little arms. My almost anorexic best friend smoothing down his dark locks in a calming manner. The scene is endearing.

Nearly perfect towards what I would want.

Until his thumb slips into her waistband and Nathan pulls away to look at her. Just seconds away from him closing in on her lips I screw my eyes shut, swallowing the bile and rage in one quick movement.

"Na-" Winter tries. "-athan, this is..."

He doesn't listen, pushing against her small words of protest and waiting until she finally caves.

"This isn't how people mourn, Nate..."

A low moan escapes him, nearly strangling at the end. An empty sob. As if pleading for her to just shut up and let him pretend it was me.

A sick, twisted thought.

I throw up a little in my mouth, turning away from the entire scene when he begins to undress her. The mattress shifts and I can tell what they are doing. I know the way my box spring groans with extra weight.

But all I can think about are the disgusting, weird sobs Nathan cries while screwing my best friend.

The two people I loved most in the whole world.

Perhaps a match made in hell.

I have to get out, I have to remember my purpose. Getting a good glimpse at everything is important, but the contents of my stomach are too.

Another moment and I might lose sight of any hope at all.

Walking out, I slip through the door again and continue pacing in my lawn, trying to think for a solution. The streets are oddly clean, manicured, and all around empty of life. Following the sidewalk could be an obvious path or a trap.

A few steps away and my normal clothes begin to glitch in and out of existence. I pat the fluffy coat and the belt loops of my jeans. A few fingers reach through to a slick black material.

Pick a direction...

I remember Demetri's words to me the first time he saw me.

I ignore the sweat coasting down my neck and my fingers feverishly picking off the hot extra layer by any means necessary. So hot it's almost unbearable.

Trees shift as I run, blurring into bright white light as if I were pushing full force back into the room where this all began, on the other side of that door.

Searching for a handle, glints of silver flash around in front of my eyes and create a warped illusion of past, present, and future around me. My feet slow me down, a chill wrapping around my spine.

Seven other projections are running in the quiet.

Most are unextraordinary. Seb, Noah, and Lyric have figured out that the place is an illusion. Though Noah seems worse for wear, with a face bright and hot and tears stained onto each cheek. Even his clothes look ruffled as if he'd finally snapped.

One scream calls to me though.

The blonde who'd shoved me away just before this mess.

Without a sound, the scene is just as tragic. A blood bath is in Lacey's wake. The carpets are stained, the walls smudged up with fingerprints and a last message. Two absolutely illegible words. She screams murder with a body on her lap, gunshot wounds littering her chest as if stopping were an afterthought.

The poor girl's fingers keep scraping through the dead woman, a holograph attempting to save the life of a treasured family member. She is nothing more than a dream woven into the fabric of this delusional reality.

She's sobbing. The full force of her grief running her over and bleeding her dry with each passing second.

Slowly Lacey stands, grabbing something thin and long off a nearby table and admiring its soft glint in the light.

My heart stops.

She pulls back and drives the object through her chest.

Her feed goes dead, the projection turning a bloody red before disappearing entirely.

I don't bother counting the feeds again, my entire body numb and sick. Bile rises up and subsides in an ebb and flow of terror.

My body makes it over to the door I caught from the corner of my eye, moving like a separate being inside and coming out in the center of the maze.

Once again soaking wet and covered in mud and grass, I feel the pressure of tears welling up in my eyes and spilling out over my cheeks. This isn't just a contest, this is grooming.

But for what I don't know.

Golden eyes search my own, Demetri standing only a few feet in front of me. Motionless. Waiting.

I inch forward, praying he's going to throw me a half-hearted smile and tell me everything is over. This test is done.

Instead, he wears a prominent frown, body taut with tension.

One single motion is all it takes.

The Reaper takes the Crystal I've been working so hard to protect and shoves it deep into my chest, crushing it until it snaps into a burst of smoke and light.

Total Word Count: 9,460

Hey! I know it's been a while but I hope I can make it up to you guys with this extra long chapter. I'm going through a really hard time right now, as I'm sure some of you know, but this contest and this book are both exceptionally important to me.

Thank you to each and every one of you for reading! I'll be more timely soon, I promise.

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