After the display Evelyn saw most recently, she isn't sure why she agrees to go with Felix into town to have a romantic candlelit dinner. They dress nicely, as they have a plethora of nice clothes between the two of them. She wears something she would have worn quite some time ago. Once again, she feels smaller than before. She knows Felix would never hurt her because he has protected her at every corner.

Felix notices her discomfort. Evelyn has never been a particularly good actor. Her bleeding heart flushes her cheeks.

"Are you afraid of me?" Felix asks, bringing the red wine glass to his lips. He ate today; he didn't want to get drunk too quickly.

She blinks, "why, how could I ever be afraid of you?"

He leans in close. He has heard whispers from the others that Evelyn is slipping, but so is he. She doesn't seem to remember their deed, "I've killed someone, Evelyn."

"You hunted a beast," she corrects. Her glass is filled with wine as well, but she doesn't drink from it. Not only will it stain her lipstick, but it will soak into her mind. "Hunting is necessary. Killing the bear saves thousands of little animals."

Felix presses on, "murder-"

"Hunting," she corrects again.

"Hunting," he lets her lead the conversation, "a bear, can prove to take a toll on one's soul. After all, most adult bears have a family. Other bears will notice it's gone. Then, you have to carry its pelt with you, for God knows how many kilometres. It never ends."

Evelyn presses her lips together. She would quite like to make some clothes out of a bear's fur. Perhaps that shall be her next fashion project. Hunting had always made her queasy before. She had never understood killing. It is not killing if it is to protect. They engaged in proactive self-defence.

"What do you think the others are up to tonight?" she asks. "I do hope Briar is spending time with that Artemis fellow. He is rather kind."

"He's definitely in The Divide," Felix shakes his head. That's what Ez told him, and Ez has not steered him wrong yet.

Evelyn shrugs, "so are we. What danger is The Divide to us now?"

Felix reaches across the table and takes her hand. He rubs his thumb across the back of her hand. Feeling how bony all her knuckles are. She's thin. Maybe one day, they will look like they belong together.

"None, so long as I'm beside you," Felix says, smiling.

~~~

Ez has taken it upon himself to talk to Luis. Someone needs to knock some sense into the artist, and no one else seems up for the task. He knows they are all busy tonight. Since the pub on campus is closed due to a fire that attacked the building, Luis and Ez agree to meet in one in the nearest town. The price of cabs is meaningless to them; most monetary concerns are meaningless.

Ez realizes he's never fretted in his life as he does now.

Luis is already at the pub, sitting in a booth. Ez gets a drink from the bar and sits down across from him. Luis has a bloody mary in front of him. He's trying to acquire the taste, though it isn't working well. Blood is not something to which one easily becomes accustomed.

Ez pounds back the glass of whiskey, knowing one is supposed to sip it rather than slamming it into the rear of their throat. He hasn't had a drop of alcohol since the night of Poppy's death, and it invigorates him.

"You need to stop so casually mentioning the murder," Ez says.

Luis leans back and laughs, "hello to you too."

"I'm serious," Ez says. "People aren't going to like you talking. You don't want a target on your back like Tom already has."

Luis rolls his eyes. "Everybody has a target. I may be talking brazenly about Poppy, but Vieira fucking painted her corpse and put Poppy on display for everyone to see. Tom is absolutely losing it, Briar is trying to screw some guy who no one knows anything about, and Felix choked Kai the other day. God knows what's going on with Roman, but they've stopped rambling, and I'm pretty sure they only leave their dorm to talk to us. Evelyn is completely delusional now. It's only you, Ellie, and Jetta that seem to have some semblance of reality."

Ez blinks. He doesn't have time to digest all of the information thrown at him, but he feels his stomach churn.

"How do you know all that?" Ez asks.

Luis shrugs, "you read books. I read people."

"Well regardless, stop talking about Poppy," Ez says. "What can convince you to stop? Money?"

"Do shots with me," Luis says. He beckons over a staff member, and then the two do three rounds of tequila shots.

Ez can't tell if it's an offer to buy Luis' silence, but he doesn't mind. This is the university experience he always wanted. Not stuffy classrooms, but debates and people, and drinking underaged at a hole in the wall where no one asks for ID.

They chat about classes, and books, and grunt at the liquid. Luis asks him about the newest collection of short stories he read at the rugby game the other night. Ez asks him if it's really Poppy buried in that painting with the mushrooms.

"No," Luis insists, "it's me. I'm the one whose dead in it."

~~~

Briar walks through a corridor. It is late at night, but the buildings on campus don't lock, even though they probably should. Classrooms lock, but the halls are free for sojourning. She has strolled through the art wing, wandered outside the theatre, and listened in at the soundproof practice rooms for any music. She does the same in the library. It gets dark out; she is afraid to walk home. She lives across campus. She sucks in a deep breath and moves outside.

Outside the library, smoking, stands Kai. He puts out the flame as soon as he sees her walk by, and then he approaches from behind her.

She gasps and spins around. She doesn't relax when she sees him. She knows him, but she also suspects he knows the person who roofied her. At least, just as well as Poppy did anyway.

"How's it going?" Kai asks. He wears a high collared shirt, a bit unusual for him. It is to hide the bruises from Felix's chokehold. Kai has developed a cough and cigars aren't helping with it, but they do clear his head. "I didn't know you studied."

Briar shoots him a glare.

He smirks, "sorry, but it was supposed to be a compliment. Didn't think you needed to study, or that you would even want to bother."

"I was walking," she answers, her voice short.

Kai smiles, "let me walk you home."

She wants to protest. Kai is like a bad rash that won't go away. Not only is he unpleasant, but she doesn't want people to see them together. His reputation as a flirt has reached her dorm friends. He may be talented at everything he does, but he's a player. If Artemis were to see her, it would be disastrous.

"Do you think Artemis saw anything?" Kai asks.

Briar doesn't care what he saw. It would be his word against almost a dozen other people, "I wish people would just let me have friends."

"We're friends," Kai argues. He puts his head down, "listen, Briar, I admire you. I wish I was half as brave as you."

She cannot tell what is his smooth-talking nature and what is genuine, and at this point, neither can he.

"Well, of course, you think I'm brave," she says. "You're just happy I didn't go to the police. I saved your buddy."

"The others are my friends, not the stupid rugby guys," Kai cuts in. He shakes his head. It's impossible to convince her of anything. "Don't you think I'd have gone to celebrate with them instead of going to thank you all for coming?"

Briar knows she hasn't been manipulated by him yet, and she's not going to start now.

"It just feels like I'm alone," she accuses him of something. Of what she isn't sure, but it is something.

"Yeah," Kai sighs. "Me too."

~~~

Vieira feels an immense amount of guilt. Not only has she killed Poppy, but she is in the process of destroying Tom. Maybe she should simply suck it up and make amends, just to please him. She needs an outsider's opinion. She is about to knock on Roman's dorm room door when she notices a note taped to the front.

Get campus police.

Vieira tries the handle, and the door opens.

Roman sits on the floor, a rope in hand.

"Forgive me," Roman says, not looking up at who has entered. "I'm afraid the light fixture is flush with the ceiling. My weight would rip out the curtain rod. There is no other option."

Vieira wants to turn around and leave. This is too much for her to handle. There are no tears in Roman's eyes. They are not sad. It's a foreign feeling to Vieira. She understands panic, and hopelessness, but not to the same internal extent.

"I had not foreseen being seen," Roman continues, finally glancing at Vieira. "You might understand the horror of being known."

"I do not understand," Vieira corrects, quickly. She shuts the door behind her and kneels down on the floor in front of Roman. She pries the rope out of their hands.

"You're right," Roman tells Vieira. "I wanted to prove I could belong with the white, cisgender heterosexual kids. I was wrong. Terribly wrong."

"They did something wrong, Roman," Vieira insists. "You aren't broken for being unable to stomach their crimes."

"And yet, here I am and here you are, pretending everything is fine," Roman sighs.

The pair sit on the ground together, not looking at one another. Vieira notices how all of their philosophy books have been put into a box. All their clothes in another. Their bed has no sheets. Their desk has nothing atop it.

It would make for an excellent diorama. The only way she can face her life is through the lens of creation. After all, she has done far too much destruction.

Roman feels they are trapped. Unless they find a bottle of absinthe and beg someone else to pour it down their throat, they are going to be stuck in this place forever. It's everything they've ever dreamed about achieving, and yet, it is the fuel of nightmares.

It is too late for dinner, "go shower and then come back to me. Read me all the philosophy on why suicide is wrong."

"I don't want to read anymore," Roman says.

Vieira sighs. Roman thinks Vieira's bright purple eyeliner seems dull in the artificial lighting.

"Well, you've got to do something other than hang," Vieira points out. "Go quote things for me."

~~~

Tom and Ellie meet in one of the private study rooms. The chairs are more comfortable than one would usually have in a library, but they are still stiff. Ellie wishes Tom could be more relaxed. She was tasked, after the events at the art gallery, to talk to him about his drinking. While she knows more about psychology than most, she is no doctor.

Tom is uncomfortable. No one is forcing Felix to talk to anyone after his violent outburst. It's about their image. The initiates do not like that Tom draws attention. They do not mind violence in private. It feels all too hypocritical, and he hates the rich.

"Tom, we're concerned about you," she says as if they are a monolith. They are not, obviously; they rarely agree on anything, even on the ties that bind them. Enough of them have raised concerns about Tom.

"I'm not going to bother Vieira anymore," he tells Ellie, hoping it will satiate her. He is a piece of meat at the mouths of hungry wolves. "I'm also not going to drink."

"For an actor, you're doing a poor job of pretending you have it all together," Ellie says.

Tom's knee starts to jitter. He wants to burst up and run, anywhere, except home of course. Who would want to be on the grimy streets of Brighton when you could be here? There are just as many enemies as there are foes. Yet, he understands playing the part. If Ellie wants an act, fine. He can be stellar.

"Talk to me about Ellie," he says. "How are you handling things?"

She stiffens, "this is not about me."

"For a rich girl, you rarely seem to think things are about you," Tom points out. "Why is that?"

"I don't appreciate being psychoanalyzed," Ellie says, but she's ready to burn him down with her. "Why do you have a dependence on Vieira. You have poor attachment issues, probably stemming from a difficult childhood."

"You don't think you are as good as anyone else," Tom says. "You agreed to... you know... because you felt inferior to Poppy."

Ellie wants to laugh, but instead, she wraps a fist around her coat, "that's not why."

"If you want me to trust you, then you have to trust me," Tom says softly. He looks at her, tilting his head to the side.

It is a rare occurrence for Ellie to see someone genuine. She pauses, biting her lip. Though she could never tell him anything, let alone everything, she wants to trust him. He may be going crazy, but at least he is genuinely himself. That's better than she can say for any of the other initiates, who buried themselves so deep they might meet Poppy in the underworld.

There is a knock at the door and the two freeze.

Jetta walks in, huffing. She hadn't the opportunity to tell anyone but Roman about Vieira's art stand, but she heard through the grapevine that Ellie would be here, as well as Tom. The one person who knows Vieira the best and the other who can read others like no other. A skilled team for her task.

"Are you guys busy?"

They look at one another and then shake their heads.

"I think Vieira is going to get us in trouble," Jetta says. "A lot of people were looking at her display, which clearly had a picture of Poppy."

Ellie's mind races. She skips over the frustration at mentioning Vieira in front of Tom and leaps to her memory. Artemis paid extra attention to a portrait. At the time, Ellie hadn't thought much of it, but if it was a picture of Poppy, then he must know that they are all involved.

"You think someone's going to catch on?" Tom asks.

"I think someone already has," Ellie says. "We need to meet up to discuss Artemis."

~~~

Backat their dorms, they sleep soundly, not knowing of the meeting to come. BeforeEllie can get in touch with the others through notes slipped under their doors,she and the others receive notes from The Divide. They ask the initiates tomeet, once more, for the final time.

~~~~~

I know this is early but I just wrote the next chapter and I have never been more stoaked in my life. It's going to be something special. Magic of friendship, or something like that.

Anyway, what do you think The Divide could possibly want now?