The heavy pounding of the girl's body landing on Felix as he collapses beneath her shakes the floor of the ballroom. The chandelier above their heads jingles, its jewels and lights swaying. A few shouts erupt, but the initiates have seen their share of violence. A collapse doesn't even phase them.

Evelyn breaks away from Kai, darting up to Felix. She gets to the front of the crowd just as the other ballet dancers approach him. They lift the girl off of him, tending to them both.

Felix is still unconscious. His body is limp, pale, and Evelyn gets a flash of Poppy, convulsing on the floor.

She's made a grave error.

Realizing there is some commotion above, the orchestra is cut off by the director. There are whispers amongst the pit, that eventually travel back to Jetta.

One of the dancers has fallen.

Felix is in and out of consciousness when the ambulance arrives. Called from a landline, it takes ten minutes to travel at top speed from the hospital to the ballroom of campus. In that time, the staff members filter out the guests of the masquerade, including the dancers, leaving only the Emergency Medical Response Club on campus in the room with Felix, as well as his ballet master.

The others don't reconvene. They have no reason to do so. Instead, they begin to fret. Over Felix's health, over its sudden decline. Is it related to Poppy? Will they be discovered?

Ez tries to analyze the situation using the terminology one would look at in a novel. Every point leading up to now has felt like rising action, until the point at which they killed Poppy. Yet, this does not feel like a denouement. The conclusion is nowhere in sight. How can so much be far behind them, yet they are not even done the first semester of the first year?

In their bedrooms, they sleep, but it is restless.

~~~

Evelyn makes the trek out to the hospital. Something calls her there. She has never set foot in a hospital before, she has never had an emergency in her life. Each step leads her down a path that she doesn't know. Eventually, after some convincing at the front desk, she finds her way into Felix's room.

He lies in the bed, an IV in his arm and food on a tray placed over his hospital bed. He's been picking at it, claiming his stomach feels uncomfortable. He's sure the doctors know what has happened. They saw how low his blood sugar was when he came in. They didn't seem to buy his act. His parents have not been contacted, thankfully. He is quite too old for that.

When he sees Evelyn enter, he sits up. She notices that his skin looks more flush, with blush across his cheeks and nose. It's only been a day and he looks quite remarkably better.

"You came," he notices her, again. He cannot help but notice every part of her. She compliments him so perfectly. She is so perfect, and Felix craves perfection unlike anyone he's ever known.

"I did," Evelyn says. She had invited Kai but he was too busy with practice. There is a big game coming up. Vieira said no as well, presumably because she was busy with the approaching art gallery. The world didn't stop turning for Felix.

"You know, you looked lovely last night," he points out.

She blushes, "you noticed?"

"How anyone couldn't notice is beyond me," Felix leans in closer to her.

Evelyn takes a step towards him as well, until she is practically on the edge of the bed. She blinks at him, feels something in her stomach that sets her on edge. This feels wrong. She shouldn't let Felix talk to her like that when Kai isn't around. Yet, she likes it.

"You look much better too," she lowers her voice. "What happened?"

"I skipped lunch," he says, omitting that he also skipped breakfast and dinner. "It's been hard, with all the stuff that has happened."

Evelyn nods her head. Everyone seems so affected. She's been fine, everything is fine and nothing is wrong and everything is going perfectly. She won over one of the finest men at Hawkwood, her dresses are so phenomenal that they are going to let her display one of her works as a promising first year in the art gallery, and she was the best looking girl at the masquerade.

Something is missing though.

~~~

Kai rarely smokes cigars. They are bad for your lungs, but he finds himself a chimney with how much he smokes in the designated smoking area on campus.

Jetta makes her way over to the area. It is overcast, spitting but not raining. It is the perfect day for an uninterrupted cigarette. Of course, until she sees Kai standing there.

It would be rude to avoid him, so she joins him. He's already three-quarters of a cigar deep, and his lungs are huffing and puffing. She lights a cigarette and takes a deep breath of it.

"You're going to kill yourself before your next game," she tells him, knowing that she is going to get herself killed one day as well. She shoves a fingerless glove in the pocket of her raincoat. It is too wet for a leather jacket today. She is starting to look like she belongs. She hates it.

"I hope so," he mutters, not to her but to himself. He doesn't mean it, he really doesn't. Kai is too good to die. He has too much to accomplish. "God, this is so fucked up."

"The part where you organized the murder of Poppy, or the part where you have been leading Evelyn on?" Jetta says. She noticed at the masquerade the way Evelyn was looking at ai and the way he did not return the glance. He's disinterested; he's Kai.

Kai looks over at Jetta, and anger sizzles in his throat. He swallows it down, worries about getting heartburn, but he's already burned so many hearts that he knows it would only be his comeuppance. The smell of Jetta's cheap cigarette reaches his nose and sours his stomach. Every part of his body is decaying.

Like Poppy's. Unlike Poppy's. He thinks back to Ez's suggestion. Maybe she is more alive than he is nowadays.

"Both," Kai admits. He stares at Jetta, and feels a tear leaking out of his eye. Everyone else seems to be doing fine, worried but fine. Kai is anything but fine. He keeps getting plowed down at rugby, he's missing the ball in polo, his storyboards are illegible. He hasn't heard from his parents in months. It's freedom, but at what cost?

Jetta, caught off-guard seeing him cry, sees him bend over and curl into a ball on the ground. She bends over next to him and puts her hand on her back. She pats him, half-heartedly. Her eyes look around, hoping no one is looking at them. She's not worried about The Divide or strangers, she's worried about the others.

"You need to pull it together," she whispers through gritted teeth. "You're the one who started this. Everyone is relying on you."

He knows he's more figurehead than man. He's captain of two sports teams. Whether he wanted to be or not, he is now. All because he couldn't stand that Poppy got the better of him. He's foolish, he's idiotic, but it doesn't matter because he's stuck.

Kai knows that at half-time, you can still turn the game around. It isn't looking pretty, but there is still a chance for him.

"Never tell the others you saw this," he wipes his face, looking up at her.

She crosses her fingers behind her back, "your secret's safe with me."

~~~

Vieira and Luis are in the studio, painting and painting. They draw and sculpt, and wash their hands until the skin begins to peel off. They each get to display three pieces in the ballroom for the art show. It is coming up rapidly. The two of them are the most dedicated to their craft in their year, which explains why they were selected for The Divide.

Vieira tries to paint as long as Luis. He is slow and then quick, changing pace so rapidly she cannot keep up. He's not trying to throw her off, he doesn't move steadily like a metronome. He pushes and pulls at the music of creating, dragging out some steps and hurrying through others. She doesn't like the way he works. She takes her time.

Eventually, they are the only two left in the room. Luis can hear students chatting in the hallway, so he gets up and closes the door.

Vieira nearly jumps. She can feel her heart racing. Is he locking her in? Do they know of her doubts? Is it her turn to die?

Luis turns back to painting, but he hears her breath growing ragged. He tries not to pay attention; he avoids looking anywhere but the painting in front of him. It is his last piece. Shadows in a forest. The trees are tall and thin and mushrooms are growing along the forest floor. Mushrooms like to grow over what has since passed on.

Eventually, the breathing is too much.

"Ellie is worried about you," Luis points out, remembering a conversation from last night. "She knows about the panic attacks. I think we all do."

Vieira hiccups. She raises her hands to her mouth, unable to speak. Unable to look at him. She sees horror in his eyes, reflected from hers. It kills her.

"She thinks you might have developed PTSD or C-PTSD," Luis says. He doesn't really understand the difference between the two, but Ellie does. Ellie seems to understand everyone else better than he does. "You're avoiding Tom. You two used to be best friends."

More than best friends, Vieira thinks. A little bit more, too much. It's sickening. There is a window in the classroom and they are on the second floor. She can imagine hurtling herself out through the glass. Would she live? Is surviving even worth it at this point?

"I mean, you've always been quiet, but now you're silent," Luis says.

Does he want her to be loud? She can be loud. She can rage and roar. Her art doesn't need to speak for itself anymore, she can. "Can you please just fuck off and pretend I don't exist?"

"Woah," Luis exhales. He wants to laugh again. All of this is crazy. Inappropriate laughter has been taking over. He can't help but chuckle.

She chucks a paintbrush at his head and he laughs again, though he is frightened.

"What has gotten into you?" she asks. She is tired of no one taking her seriously.

"Me?" he laughs, shaking his head. "Everyone is losing it, you included. What do you expect me to do? Go crazy! I can go crazy."

He leans back, grabs his notebook, and rips out pages. He tears apart his sketches with his dirty fingers and teeth, destroying them all.

Vieria throws paintbrush after paintbrush, stomping on them and watching them break on the floor. Together, they continue to create. Though this time, they create a mess.

~~~

Ez hears his upstairs neighbour causing a ruckus. Normally, you can only hear them if they are jumping. While the walls at Hawkwood may be thin, the floors are thick. It's been half an hour of slamming drawers and banging what he can only assume are pots and pans.

Ez runs up the stairs and finds his neighbour's door. He pounds on the door. He waits in the hallway for a few seconds, until the door opens.

A yellow Tom opens the door. His bags are soo deep under his eyes that Ez wonders if he's ever slept in his entire life.

"What..." Tom stumbles over the words. "How'd you find me?"

"I live beneath you," asshole, he thinks but doesn't add. Ez muscles his way into the room and Tom is too weak to fight back.

It's a disaster. Textbooks have been thrown everywhere. Feathers from a destroyed pillow litter the floor. The mattress is no longer on the bed, but instead bent at an awkward angle on the floor.

"The fuck is going on with you?" Ez hisses.

Tom closes the door. He makes his way over to the desk and sits atop it, his legs crossed. A pen digs into his calf, having been thrown there early in his battle with himself.

"Vieira said no," Tom points out.

Ez rolls his eyes. "So you decided to destroy your own property?"

"She said I was no better than the rest of you!"

Ouch, Ez thinks. He doesn't think of himself as better than the others as a whole, though he is more thoughtful than most of them. Superiority is not going to get them anywhere. They are a unit.

"If someone finds out you did this to your room, you'll be kicked out of dorms, which essentially means you'll be expelled," Ez points out, rubbing his forehead. If Tom loses it, he will definitely go to the police.

"I need Vieira," Tom leaps off the table and grabs Ez. Tom wraps his fist tightly around Ez's woollen sweater collar. "She understands me, and she's gone. Do you know what that's like?"

Ez shakes. He puts his hands on Tom's slowly getting the guy to relax. As soon as Tom lets go, Ez swings his backhand, narrowly missing Tom's face.

"I have better aim than that," Ez points out. "Touch me again and you'll have a black eye. Get the fuck over yourself Tom, this is about more than you."

Ez leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

Tom knows it's about more than him. It's also about Vieira.

~~~

Roman searches for Ellie. It takes a while, but they manage to make their way to Ellie's dorm room. She's inside studying, not on a scheduled break. She's popping Adderall like one pops pimples. Too often for their own good.

When Roman knocks on the door, they are sure it is Ellie's room. It has her name tag on the outside, after all.

Ellie opens it and ushers Roman inside.

"I'm a bit busy," she says, but lets them take a spot on the bed. Even though the dorms at Hawkwood are big, with enough room for a lounge chair, Ellie doesn't have one. She has never expected to have guests, really. "What can I help you with?"

Roman swallows deeply. They pick at the calluses on their hands. Ellie's sheets are soft, but it feels wrong to be on her bed. It feels deeply wrong to be here at all.

"Can you take a break?" Roman asks.

She isn't sure she can afford it. Midterms are this week, and while no one else seems to care, Ellie does. Ellie craves perfection unlike anyone she's ever known. She turns to Roman, sighing. "I don't think so."

Roman gets up. They wanted Ellie's help. She seems to know everything about psychology, and while Roman knows a lot about philosophy, all the things they don't know drag them down.

"Maybe tomorrow?" Roman says, unsure if they will have the will to meet tomorrow at all.

Ellie furrows her brow, "maybe. I've got a midterm tomorrow."

Roman sighs. They've always liked Ellie. She is so beautiful. Almost perfect even. Her heart is massive, but not large enough to contain Roman. They can feel their own hands clawing at their throat, drawing blood, though it's all in their head. They've been seeing things, hearing things. They wanted to ask Ellie if it was sleep deprivation or PTSD or another beast entirely. Last night, they slept through the whole night, after a solution finally presented itself.

They just wanted to run that solution by Ellie.

Ellie sees the way their face falters. It's only the smallest of twitches. Ellie doesn't have time for everyone else's problems, but she wants to try. "I can meet with you after my midterm. It's at seven in the evening, so I will be free around 10 o'clock."

Roman doubts they will make it that long.

"Okay," Roman says.

With that, they head out the door, making sure to say goodbye.

~~~

Briar is out eating dinner with her friends when Artemis joins her. She doesn't want to be alone with him; she doesn't want to be alone with anyone, but she enjoys his company. They laugh and giggle. He talks a bit much about Marxism for a kid from such a rich background, but no one complains about it, certainly not Ellie. He isn't hard on the eyes.

He ends up walking with her and the others back to their dorm even though he doesn't live in that building.

"I like spending time with you," he tells her, since they are walking a bit behind the others. "Say, we should go to the art gallery together."

"I'd like that," she offers, smiling. She'll need to ask the others if anyone else has been tagging around. It doesn't escape her that he could be a member of The Divide, but she'd rather play it innocent than not.

"Perfect," he says. "I'd rather your friends from your dorm didn't tag along. I don't want to impose, but your friends seemed a little annoyed when I tried to discuss Engels."

Briar swallows. Alone. With a man. He's not the blonde-haired boy. He has long brown hair. He's different. She cannot be afraid of everyone forever.

"Okay," she smiles. "That can be arranged. Although, I might have my friend Ellie come with us. Is that okay?"

Artemis' smile is wide, "of course. Tell me about her."

~~~~~

I am excited! I have nothing left prepped so it might be a while before I publish the next chapter. Now, more than ever (though I sound like a broken record) I need your help! What is your character's next move? Let me know in the comments.

I hope to see you sooner than later.