"Drake, I'm scared."

    A timid voice, shaking and unable to stay calm, spoke out against the silence that thickened the arena. Gravy, hot and thick, swamped down on them in the form of moisture and the forest was thick with multitudes of trees that threatened to steal Arabella away and take her into the night. The night, where her dreams ran rapid and her fears did worse. The night, where the murderers that everyone had become would go to sleep or stay awake, waiting for the next kill. For the cannons to sound.

    "Why?" A laugh. Drake's deep voice, just perfect enough for her to want to bury her head into his chest and hide until the nightmares were gone. He had a deeper voice than Daddy, though none too kind. "Is it because you're a useless fighter and nineteen other people want to kill you, because you're alone with me and this dip-shit, or because you know it's a miracle that you've made it this far?" Drake turned from where he'd been walking ahead of her to look back, a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his eye as he added, "Or is it because you killed Mommy?"

    Arabella shook her head and bit her lip, a habit she was too fond of doing. {Mommy is gone.} There wasn't a response her mind could supply for her—nothing, not even in the second layer of her thought castle, where the majority of those thoughts lay hidden. Tears swelled up but she fought them the best she could, taking steps forward over the brush and pushing through the burning pain in her legs and weakness that was slowly overtaking her. One thought pushed through everything in a wake that left her core shaken and her mind screaming out for relief.

    I killed someone.

    One thought, solemn, held with reverence above all rest, was allowed.

    I killed someone.

    It wasn't a complex thought. It wasn't an easy thought. No, Arabella merely thought with nothing else attached to it besides an emotion that she couldn't name. Enough to drive her crazy, the thought grew in loudness until she was certain even Iago, who hung about fifteen feet behind them at all times, could hear it bursting from the confines of her mind.

    Arabella shoved past Drake, who had stopped to breathe next to a shorter tree, and snapped at him, "No, it's because I have to pee and there's no place to go alone."

    Laughter once more filled the air—not joyous but darkened and filled with the burning desire to take down cities and leave them burnt. Screams of pure agony were held inside it. Lost people, lost voices, and it was only a laugh from a scared, sarcastic boy just trying to survive. "Okay, half-pint, need to go that badly? I'll wait here with Iago and you can turn around and pee on that tree over there. When you're done, we'll get going," he said. Drake gave her a little smile at that, almost something like what he gave her at night when they'd stay up telling stories. It's still Drakie.

    With a huff, Arabella turned from him and gave Iago a shy wave before running off through the trees. She made certain to go further than what Drake had said just to spite him. I'm tired. He can wait a few minutes for me to go pee. Behind, she could hear Drake shouting something to her.

    "If it takes longer than five minutes I'm so gonna call Mommy and have her bring you back, eh?" Mommy is gone! Gone!

    I'm gonna scream! Nothing was worse than crying. Nothing. The tears, hot, heavy, and the way they puffed out her face were worthless. Slumping against a tree, Arabella hastily removed her pants and squatted, hating that she had to pee in the woods but hating the idea of wetting herself even worse. I killed someone. After a terrifying thirty three seconds of it, she wiped with a bunch of moss and pulled them back up. Everyone can see me right now. The tears were only worse and her sleeve bore the root of the sobbing, snot and tears mixed together to create a pitiful girl who was little more than a delayed bloodbath tribute.

    Loudness spread through the arena at once, as though everything would never be silent again. Life had a funny way of doing things like that. For Arabella, everything was an extreme. If it was silent, it had always been silent. If it was loud, it had always been loud. If she was scared, she had always been scared. Right then, Arabella was scared. She couldn't hear Drake, or Iago, or anyone else she knew. Not even the pixie Vita was there. Instead, there was rustling bushes, strange shouting, and a cannon that threatened to be his death. Where's Drake? Where's Drake? Oh god, where is he?

    "Andrew!" she shouted, not caring if anyone heard her. It wouldn't matter anyways. The second he came back to her he would protect her, just as he always had. Arabella wouldn't be alone. She wouldn't be scared. It would only be calm, peaceful, and happy. They would get out and go home. "Andrew!"

    Birds.

    Shouting.

    Rustles.

    No Drake.

    "Andrew?" Quivers of regret and pain shook her, all fringed with the lies she told herself. Arabella backed up against the tree as the rustles grew nearer. A voice accompanied it, almost light but filled to the brim with a crazied sense of injustice. The man sounded mad. "Cam, Cam! I'm going! I'll find someone! Give me time—give me—I just—Dammit, Cam! I just need more time," he was saying. It was someone she had heard before, someone from the training room. That boy from four, she recalled with a startle, the cute muscled boy who had been good with knives.

    Behind the scared lay a noise unlike all the others. It was a strict, angry sound. "Arabella Blackspool!" The sound of the dead come to life once more. "You're still alive?"

    Mommy? Fuck, he did it. He called Mommy. Drake called Mommy. She's back. She's back.

    Tensed up against the tree, Arabella held her breath as the trees seemed to part to reveal him. Blond hair that fell in short, messy waves framed an oval face with a defined jaw and a well carved nose. He was tall, much too tall for the scared fourteen year old's liking, and he held a large knife in his hands. Already, his clothes held a fresh coating of blood and the knife had been used, for the light didn't glint off it but rather it stuck to it, as if sucking away all that was pretty from the already broken arena.

    "God, I thought you'd be dead by now. Must be a miracle you made it this far," Mommy's voice said, "considering how you're absolutely useless. What a weak, pathetic little girl. And to think I raised you!" Mommy laughed. Arabella couldn't see her. The voice—it was everywhere. It blocked out everything and left her scarcely able to breathe. A weak, pathetic girl.

    For a moment he didn't see her. Kalyd moved forward, talking to someone she couldn't see yet, and his voice only grew in desperation. A look of anguish was caught over his face and if she hadn't just gone her pants would've been soaked. Don't look, don't look--(He was so kind, so caring. {Mommy was kind too.} Are we all just killers?)--don't look, don't look-

    He looked.

    Sky met with sky as their eyes caught in a terrible web woven by the deadliest spider Arabella had ever encountered. The games, an arachnid far worse than the ones that frequented her nightmares, crept up from behind to tap her only the shoulder. Only to, when she turned to check, bite her and suck every ounce of spirit from inside and leave behind a hollow shell of what could've been a person. Like her mother, it trapped Arabella, hunting her down like the prey she was. As she froze, unable to either fight or take flight, Arabella heard the ever-so-distant sharp ringing of a falling object. A token, a trick, whatever it was it was falling and coming her way.

    A parachute of either joy or defeat broke their stare and both ran for it at once.

    Kayld reached it first and he held the knife towards her as he picked it up, movements sharp and rigid. "Don't move!" he barked, his voice nothing of the kindness it had once been. Hell had wrecked them all and there was no escape for anyone. "Don't. Move."

"Just let him kill you! I don't want you anymore," Mommy said. Breath hot against the back of Arabella's neck, Mommy didn't stop talking. "I don't want you. I never wanted you."

    Arabella stood her ground, hands caught by her side and back stuck in a forward position. Mentally there was nothing save for dread. Physically, there was a collection of dust that rose and she sneezed loudly, unable to help herself. The look he gave her at that—eyes darkened, eyebrows lowered, and the tighter grip on the blade—had her holding her breath. DrakeDrakeDrakeDrake. Ignore Mommy. She's not here.

    "I said—dammit! I fucking told you not to move!" he opened up the package, frowning more at the contents inside. Yellowed pages marred an ancient looking book with torn pages and coffee stains bruising the sides. Kayld's mouth suddenly perked up when he flipped it open, as though the devil himself had just given him the best offer he'd heard all day. Evil, pure evil, that was all Arabella could see. Maybe it was just her imagination, the one that made shadows into pursuers and words into floods, but it was as though something flipped inside the boy. Good? What is good? He had never been good and she knew it. No. Kayld had reached his breaking point. He's evil. He's pure, unfiltered evil.

    "Andrew!"

    One last, final call, and the second it left her lips the knife plunged into her face. Shouting far louder, Arabella cursed and screamed as the blood poured out and pain coursed throughout her skull. I'm dying. Darkness spread over her vision, enveloped in the crimson and pain that throbbed and left her throat raw with no sound left to come from it. If before the thoughts were empty then they were completely absent—nothing but the emotion was there, leaving her curled onto the ground and shaking as her fingers tried to stop the bleeding. Just what Mommy wants.

    Kayld slammed the book shut and threw it down. It hit the ground with a thump. Another thump came, then another, as he descended down on where she lay. Evil had nothing on him. Terror filled her as he picked up the knife from where it'd hit the ground after stabbing into her eye. She could hardly see as he wiped it off onto her shirt and crouched down beside her, strangely calm yet erratic at the same time.

    He whispered, "You better shut up now. I have to do this. You have to die. Don't make this hard on me. Don't make it hard. We all make choices. We all make choices. I have to, don't you see? I fucking have to."

    "Please," she whispered, "please don't."

    "I'm so sorry."

    Cold metal touched the blood-stained flesh of her neck. Arabella's heartbeat was faster than any birds, beating as though she were running a marathon and not laying on the ground. Her fingers throbbed and everything ached, the eye a distant pain that she couldn't comprehend. Heat, ice, it all fused together before her as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheeks and making her gag. God. DrakeDrakeDrakeDrake please, I need you. Her breath came in short, shuddering gasps and she waited for him to do it. Blood falling through her fingers, pain flowing almost as smoothly, Arabella stared at him with her left eye and waited.

    The end was near.

    It ate away at her body and in one second she let go of it all and closed off herself, waiting for the end to come. {I'm only a girl,

Waiting for the end,

To draw near as it does,

and devour me in sin.

I'm only a girl,

Waiting for my brother,

To come and save me,

but it's only Mother.}

    Mommy seemed to like that. "Good," she said, "Good. God, am I fucking glad you're gonna die. And to think I was worried you might live. Now, I just hope both my worthless children die so I don't have to deal with you anymore. I've never seen a girl so damn useless as you. You left me to die, and for what? This hell? No, no, just let him kill you." No...No, Mommy, stop! Stop it, Mommy! This isn't you! This can't be you!

    Kayld was hovering there, the pain in his eyes evident.

    "Please," Arabella pleaded, "please don't do this. I won't hurt you. Leave me alone and I'll die anyways."

    "Yes," that persistent voice of Mommy said, "you will. Of course..." There was a pause, one left on a musing note that threatened to be the doom of all. "Of course, if you kill him and paint his blood on you I might consider letting you live, sweetie." Mommy...

    He didn't want to kill her. I don't want to kill him. He wasn't a killer. I'm not a killer. They were all only children playing pretend, acting as though death didn't faze them but secretly terrified and uncertain of everything. The tears spilled from his cheeks as he muttered, "For you, Cam."

    In one second, she had let go. In another, she grabbed hold, reaching down and snapping his wrist with every ounce of weight she held. As he gasped in pain, Arabella took hold of the knife and jabbed it into his neck. The blood squirted out in gushing waves as she jerked it back out, coating her body. With trembling hands she took the blood and drew circles on her arms in it. Thick, nearly black in places, the clumps somehow morphed into her throat and she choked, feeling it inside her. His body. His life.

    Gone.

    Just as she would soon be.

    Tears, again, fell to the ground. Dirt became mud, the only reality that came from her sorrow. As she lay there, terrified and trembling, feet came running up and voices fought for her attention. A sweet, caring voice that was Iago. The scared and angry voice of Drake. Both boys grabbing her shoulders and shaking her, asking her questions she couldn't hear. Something wet touched the wound that was her eye and pressure revived the pain that had become dormant in her shock. Arabella could only say, could only think, one thing.

"I'm scared, Drake."