Alana opened the door to let the purple rays of morning sun. Layne didn't even react to that – he laid with his eyes open, just as he did for the whole night. No one dared to speak.

"We should go help with breakfast," whispered Malia and pushed Alana outside.

One after another, the rest of the Rejects stumbled out of the cabin, each of them giving Layne a sorry look of which he didn't care.

Only after he was completely alone, Layne took a deep breath and stepped outside. He walked aimlessly past the cabins, his head empty of any dominant thought. Only when he found Victor did he understand what was his body carrying him to.

"You haven't found him," he said.

Victor didn't have his signature smile on. "We found him."

* * *

There was no doubt it was Troy, even if Layne looked for any possible reason to deny it.

The mangled remains were barely recognisable. Yet undoubtedly familiar. The pieces of clothing scattered around, same ones Troy was wearing the last time Layne had seen him.

It was the reality, and at the same time, the nightmare. Layne's head was spinning, his vision turned blurry. He did not manage to squeeze out a single word – and neither did the few people who dared to come with him.

He did not react when Alana wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight, pressing her head against his shoulder. Her tears soaked right through his t-shirt. Iker and Zander stood further away with their heads lowered, whispering something between each other.

Layne's eyes were open but he did not see anything anymore. This time, the world was over.

"Layne, it's ready," whispered Malia.

He shook his head, awoken by the use of his name. He was in the cabin – he did not remember how he got there. As much as he was aware, seconds ago, he was still standing in the forest, hugging Alana – who was now nowhere to be seen.

"What?" His dry mouth made speaking painful.

Malia tilted her head, her eyebrows furrowed. "We're ready for the funeral."

"O-ok," he stuttered and followed her outside.

The sky was turning pink.

The sun was already setting and he had no recollection of the day that passed. He staggered behind Malia, still with no real will of his own.

"Layne, everyone knows it's hard for you," she said. "But they're going to be expecting you to say something. He was your friend, no one here knew him as you did."

He nodded, forgetting that she couldn't see him.

"Layne?" Malia turned her head at him.

"S-sure."

"I thought it was all moving a little too soon. We all could use some time to settle but Victor said we have no means to preser- you know, nevermind. I'm probably tormenting you even more."

He didn't respond.

Further away from the village, they reached a plain piece of land, surrounded by trees. Simple wooden crosses stuck out of the ground one next to each other. Some looked like they could have been standing there for decades. Others were relatively new. There were more people buried there than space allowed it. Each of them had letters carved into it, although there hasn't been enough light to read them from afar.

A small group of people gathered around a fresh grave, a pile of black dirt still standing high above the surface of the ground. No cross, no nothing. Layne bit down on his lower lip. He couldn't believe all that was already done. He wasn't even there to help – or at least, he didn't remember that.

It was only the people from their cabin there. No surprise about that, too – Troy spent most of his time either alone, with Cat or with Layne. He wondered if the other Rejects were at the very least informed of what had happened. Hell, he wasn't even sure of what happened – or was still happening – himself.

As Layne approached the grave, everyone else took a step back. He stared at the pile of dirt with nothing less than disgust. Putting everything together – the fact that what was left of Troy was now buried right there beside him, just after he's seen him alive and well the day before – it was too much.

All of a sudden, he felt like kneeling on the bloody floor in his parents' house again. With the same amount of helplessness and the same amount of weakness in his body. Except it was even worse.

Back then, so much happened all at once, there wasn't any time left to stop and fully evaluate the situation. First, he lost his job and flat, then his brother kicked him out, suddenly his parents were dead and he was in the RCI car... When he finally had the time to think about all of that properly, he was ready to lie to himself. Tell himself that he didn't care. That his parents had been just a pair of drunks who haven't done anything good in their lives. Keep repeating all that until he could go through the day believing it, even if he knew himself that it'd only make the journey of dealing with his loss longer.

This time, however, time stood still. He was standing in front of the grave of a man who became his best friend through the short time that they knew each other. Afterwards, nothing would change and he'd only have to keep going through the same mundane routine – only this time, without him.

Layne glanced over his shoulder to see everyone looking at him. That's what the Rejects had for a funeral. A few people who barely knew the diseased staring at the one they've seen hanging out with them. Waiting. Expecting something.

He took a deep breath and braced himself to amuse them.

"Troy Normand was one more innocent man rejected by the RCI just to scare other innocent people into being easy to control puppets." He didn't manage to speak fast. His throat ached and so did his chest. Still, he did not have to think of the words – nor could he control them. They came, as they always would. "He had to die so that the ones higher than us wouldn't have to fear their own people."

Everyone now looked at each other, their eyes wide and mouths open. Layne made only a little pause before he started speaking again.

"Troy refused to be a doll for someone to play with. His bravery and strength were too much for them to handle." For a minute, he stopped talking and looked up into the sky. "And that is why Troy should be applauded as a man. He didn't take shit from the morons all around him, neither here nor back home. He had a head on his shoulders and he carried it with pride."

Layne sat on his heels and brushed his fingertips against the dirt. "Maybe now, Troy can rest without all of them bothering him. Who knows, maybe now he can be reunited with his wife and their daughter."

That was the end. Saying the last sentences only make it hurt more and there was nothing else to add.

Some of them prayed. Some stood in silence. Eventually, all of them left. Except for Layne. He stayed as he was, numb, motionless.

The evening was coming to an end, still, it wasn't dark enough to rush inside. Even so, when two eyes of an animal appeared just a few meters away, Layne startled. Cat laid down next to the grave and let out a long whine. It knew. It had lost a friend as well.

The man looked at the animal with sorrow. Troy had spent a lot of his free time trying to befriend it and as soon as he reached success, he was gone. Leaving both of them. Without an explanation.

Only when it got almost too dark to see, Cat ran off. It wasn't long after when the sound of footsteps disrupted Layne's thoughts.

"Layne?" called Alana. "It's almost night-time."

He nodded. "I know."

"We should go inside."

"I know."

* * *

Layne spent half of the next day in the cabin, no will to go outside. No one questioned him, nor even spoke to him. That was for the better, anyway – he had no wish for any sort of contact.

That would have continued through the whole day if Malia wouldn't have come in.

"Hey, Layne," she said in a sweet voice, just like the one that's used when talking to a child, "Victor is gathering everyone up for something. I think it may have something to do with Troy."

Layne frowned. He contemplated telling her off and flipping over to the other side – but then he'd have to see the empty pallet on which Troy used to sleep. In the end, he got on his feet and followed the girl outside.

After all, if Victor really was going to talk about what happened to his friend, he'd have to be there to hear it.

Before there was only one occasion Layne has seen every resident of the Land meeting up in one place – that was when they were giving out packages from Eumain. Everything was different this time. There wasn't any cheerful chatter or overall joy in the air. People looked at each other confused, worried, even.

Victor took a stand on a large wooden box and looked around. Smiling. His expression alone made Layne's blood boil. He was smiling.

"I'd like some attention now, please," he announced. Everyone stopped looking for answers in each other and looked at him. "As you may or may not know, we had to bury another person yesterday."

With those words, people started whispering. Layne pushed through the crowd, closer to the makeshift 'stage', worried that he may not hear well past all that noise.

Victor waited a few minutes before he started speaking again. "Once again, a man was found in the forest, ripped apart by wild animals. I know it's not something completely new, but I'd still like to take it as an opportunity to talk about our safety."

The people wouldn't stop talking between each other. Victor looked through them, visibly displeased, before raising his hand as a plead for attention. "I know that not all of you understand the danger of those beasts but one more person dying because of his pure stupidi-"

"How bullshit is that?" Layne interrupted, stepping even closer. Now, everyone stopped talking and watched the unfolding events.

Victor raised his eyebrows and looked at him from up above – literally and figuratively. "Excuse me?"

"You're going to talk shit about him now?" He stood directly in front of the box Victor was standing on and had to tilt his head upright to look the man in the eyes. "Troy was not 'stupid' in the slightest."

"Are you finished?"

"Are you?"

"Look, you may not accept it, but only an idiot would disregard our very simple rules regarding our safety. And what does that leave us with? Barely recognisable bodies."

At that point, Layne could not hold back the rage building up inside him. He was ready to throw Victor off his podium – but Clark and another person beside him saw through his intentions. They snatched his arms before he could pursue them, leaving him helpless, again.

"What a fuck?" He squirmed. "Let go of me!"

Victor stepped down. "You're causing trouble. Again." He kept talking, but Layne didn't hear him.

Layne felt he stood too close for comfort – and his own safety. With enough luck, Layne managed to ram his elbow Clark in the chest. The man gasped for air and stood back. The stranger on the other side didn't take much to deal with.

A whole mess of emotions rolled through the crowd. In Layne's mind, they all joined into one ridiculous circus. One sack of noise and movement that was only meant to be filtered out.

Victor was his next target.

"Layne!" Alana shouted past the noise, grabbing his attention. Before he knew it, she was already standing by his side, clutching his hand. He couldn't tell whether she was judging him or genuinely concerned.

"Not right now. Not in front of everyone," she whispered.

Layne ventilated, his muscles slowly relaxed yet his eyes were still fixated onto Victor with more hate than he thought he had in him. The elder watched him, too. With a smile.

"I've explained this numerous times before," he said. "Just because in the eyes of the RCI we are criminals, it doesn't mean we're supposed to act like ones here. If you can't adjust to righteous lifestyle, maybe we don't belong in the civilized community we're trying to build."

"Victor, he just lost a friend," retorted Alana. "He's emotional. That's normal."

"If this was his first time acting up, I'd believe it."

Layne hasn't seen Alana like that before. With a firm hand, she pushed Victor further away from him and squeezed herself between the two men. Her short, chubby figure stood just as proud as the tall, athletic man's before her who always walked around as if he owned the universe – or at least the Land.

"We're not in Eumain anymore, Victor," she stated. "We can't keep scaring people into submission. And sending them off to die."

Victor narrowed his eyes, his smile disappeared. Layne thought he saw his lip twitch. He thought for a moment while the whole village watched the scene without as much as a whisper.

Before giving his answer, Victor observed the crowd. "Help him to the cabin." He then looked directly at Layne. "I expect a change of attitude, soon. A loss is always painful but our peace and survival matter more than emotions."