Maxon POV:

The keys jingle in the air, disturbingly loud in the hollow room. Barely glancing up, I simply cast my eyes downwards, knowing the drill. The maid would come in, set down the food, and take away the remainder of my previous meal, a menacing guard glaring over her shoulder all the while. There was no talking, no acknowledgement. No responses. At first, I tried. I tried to run out. I tried to fight, to find out what had occurred. But then I began to realize how useless it all was. It happened every day. Every pointless day. It did happen, it had happened, and it will happen again. It'd been 123 days. 123 days since my beautiful America had been swept away, 123 days since I had seen anyone, and 123 days since I wasn't good enough to save her. It was funny what quiet time could do to you. It leaves you with....too much time to think. Too much time for regret, too much time for nightmares. Marlee, tied to the pole, screaming in agony. America, at the block. The whistle of the snake, striking out at my back....
Chuckling slightly, I feel a coy grin cross my face as the floor appears to merge with the wall, a slight buzz in my ear. America was dead, surely, at this point. Why did it all matter anymore?
The slight clatter of the tray hitting the table humms in the edges of my hearing, barely audible.
"Maxon?" A voice says as if through water. Maxon...hm, what a name. Hadn't heard that for a while. When I didn't respond, the speaker grew more urgent. "Maxon?.." It almost sounded like dear America, grinning in my ear, about to tell a dire secret of selection gossip. Almost.
A soft hand grabs my arm, shaking it slightly. Why? Why disturb my peace? 123 days, what's another?
A face pushes its way into my vision, hazy yet uncannily familiar. Slowly I glance up at the hand on my arm, at the Rich purple sleeve that enthroned it. Slowly I followed the fine embroidery up to her face, my vision focusing.
"Ah, come for some fun?" I ask, cocking my head, my voice barely coming out through my un-used tongue.
"Oh...Maxon..." Kriss says, her eyes sad and face clouded with something greater than plain pity.
I just glance at her, waiting. "I didn't realize it was this...bad.." She whispers, her eyes casting among my hollow frame.
"Just peachy." I mutter, growing impatience. I just wanted to be alone. To sink back into my thoughts.
"I..I can't wait any longer." She whispers, grief lining her features. Who was she sad for? Surely not me.
Grabbing my face, she suddenly lowers her lips to mine, kissing me. She seemed urgent, as if she didn't have much time. In many other circumstances, I may have been shocked. But I simply breathed in her smell, willing myself to believe America stood before me. It worked..for about half a second. America was gone.
I stood like stone against her, not moving in the slightest, to weak to back away.
"I'm so sorry.." She says, tears lining her eyes as she backs away, coordinating with another sharp stab to the neck. My vision hazes further, going black at the edges as she seems to step back from view. "I'm so sorry...."
I simply chuckle, managing to croak through my worn down throat.
"Thanks sweetie."
And I drifted off in peace.

________________________________
Sorry for the really late update! Hope you guys enjoyed!! No promises but I'll try to write more often :)

What will happen? *Cue dramatic* Dumm dumm Dummmm....