Kyra shook her head back and forth mechanically to try and rouse it; her brain was empty, numb. Now is not the time to stop, she thought, now is the time to act.

The whole situation was crazy; thinking about it made her need to sit down. She tried to breathe normally, in through the nose and out through the mouth. That was how she'd been taught to concentrate when she was in a test, though it worked better when there was Mathematics or English involved - murder wasn't exactly her strong point.

Once her head stopped spinning and allowed her to move, she got to her feet, gingerly testing her knees. She didn't remember falling, but guessed it happened sometime between being told her task, and realising what it meant. Kyra wiped her hands on her pants, but they came up bloodier than ever. She wanted to cry, scream and vomit all at once, but all she could do was gulp.

When she was a child, Kyra had written herself a list of rules: she would never steal, she would never harm a living thing, and she would always be kind, sympathetic and brave. It seemed as though the test was designed to break almost all of her rules. Were they trying to drive her insane? Did they want her to be a murderer?

Of course not. The whole point of wearing their bracelets was to avoid conflict and violence, to create perfect human beings. Why would a society that worked so hard for balance throw it all away for a test? That's when it hit her.

"I'm not killing anyone," she whispered. A key. A book. A first aid kit. A gun. Two bullets. Two escapees. But the task didn't specify two dead bodies. Whether people lived or died was up to her.

Kyra's eyes met her father's. Even in death, or whatever form he was stuck in, his hazel eyes were wide and bright, a flicker of life still concealed in the irises. She crawled towards him and pressed her hands against the glass, wishing that she could really touch him, feel the warmth he gave off, but she knew he was nothing but a corpse - or a memory. Either way he wasn't the person Kyra loved and needed.

Taking a deep rattling breath in, Kyra rocked back on her heels, hands gripping her thighs for dear life. Though she knew the man wasn't really her father, the thought of killing him just didn't sit right, especially since he didn't even know she was there. Would it be easier that way, or ten times harder? Would she even be able to pull the trigger, or would she have to wait for hours, until an Enforcer eventually came in and said she'd failed her test? Maybe she'd even end up in one of the cells before her. If she didn't get a job, she'd have nowhere else to go. Except the outside.

The button next to the cell flashed with an ear-splitting screech, bringing Kyra back to Earth. She slammed her fist against it in an attempt to silence it. The glass disappeared with a small pop, and behind it her father began to stir, his eyelids fluttering as he adjusted to the sudden light.

Without thinking, Kyra lunged for him, wrapping her thin arms around his waist like she had when she was younger. Though he couldn't wrap his chained arms around her, he was just as warm as he'd always been, and he still smelled like pine - he always did when he came home from missions to the outside. Suddenly she felt like she was ten years old again, young and innocent and oh so small.

"Kyra!" He was huffing, struggling against the chains around his wrists. It was only using all of her strength that she willed herself to let go.

"Is there anyway to get these off other than using the key?" she asked, reaching for the chains. She looked around for a rock, or something she could use to break the metal, but there was nothing in sight.

"I, I don't think so. The only way I can get out of here is if you choose to set me free." His gaze flickered between her eyes sparkling with tears. "Oh honey, don't get upset. It's alright; you won't have to kill me. I'm innocent." He smiled sadly. There was a note of truth in his voice that she couldn't ignore. But there was also a glint in his eye she didn't trust. It was the same one she'd seen on the hologram; the same one that had accompanied his mad eyes and sadistic smile; the same one that had pressed the button.

"I... I think you're innocent, but I have to make sure." Whether she was telling the truth or not was a mystery to Kyra, but she said it nevertheless.

He nodded in understanding, before dropping his head. It wasn't like him to give up so soon. As she backed away, his form froze again, and the wall became glass once more.

Kyra went to James next. His face was coated in dirt. The dark circles under his eyes somehow stood out more than usual. Even though he was smiling she had never she seen him look so tired, so sad, so depressed - surprising considering he was ninety percent caffeine and ten percent human. Seeing him in pain was worse than anything she could imagine tenth fold.

With a heavy heart weighing down her hand, she pressed his button. She was yanked forward, her body slamming into another one. It was a hug full of gangly limbs and uncomfortableness, and even though his legs were the things that had pulled her inside, and were still wrapped around her waist, she couldn't help but smile. James was always James.

Then she realised where she was. What the test was trying to do to her judgement.

Straightening her jumpsuit, she stumbled backwards out of the cage, avoiding James' gaze. His eyes were usually a soft baby blue, spiderwebbed with navy towards the edges. If she saw them she knew her resolve would disintegrate.

"Kyra." It was nothing more than a breathy whisper, but it made Kyra's knees weak and her stomach drop to her feet. There was so much pain in his voice that Kyra couldn't help but look up.

James' gaze raked her body, taking in every inch of it as though he hadn't seen her in years. Maybe he hadn't. He looked older, with a small amount of stubble covering his chin and faint wrinkles around his eyes. Even so, he couldn't have been older than twenty. She shook her head; the test was messing with her judgement.

"I, I know how it sounds, and I know you might not believe me, but I didn't do it. I didn't leave. I couldn't do that to my parents or my family or... You. And if I did leave, I wouldn't do it without saying goodbye." He looked down at the ground as a tear trickled down his cheek. The last time she'd seen him cry was in fifth grade, when his grandfather had passed away, and even then he'd only shed one tear. "I didn't do it, I swear."

"But if you could have, you would have, right?"

He looked down. "You know I would have. I can't stay here Kyra, I can't stay in Arabel living a meaningless life until I rot away into nothing. If that means you have to kill me, so be it. I'm innocent now but you know I won't be forever."

Words failed her. She'd never been able to lie to him, no matter how much she wanted to. "I don't know what to do," Kyra admitted, staring into his familiar eyes. She turned around to take a deep breath.

"But you know me, and that should be enough."

Before she could respond he was frozen once more. Having the last word - a James-esque move. Would she- no, could she kill him? Even if it was fake, if this was all made up to test her, could she pull the trigger on her best friend? On her father?

Kyra opened her eyes and stepped in front of the middle cell, but refused to look the president in the eye. Instead she focused on his shoes, perfectly polished leather. It seemed whoever had designed him had forgotten about faults, and instead focused on fashion. Of course. At least one thing had to be perfect.

Kyra had always wondered how old President Tyrell really was. For as long as she could remember, he'd always looked the same. Cropped black hair, smooth dark skin and always the same thin smile. He was the image of perfection, not a single hair strand out of place. On closer examination, it seemed that age was catching up to him. She pressed the button.

"Who are you? Are you here to accuse me too?" The president jumped forward, but was thrown back by the chains. Kyra frowned and stepped forward to test the metal clamped around all four of the man's limbs - why he had more chains than the others was a mystery, one she chose not to question.

"No, sir. I want to hear your side of the story." Kyra stepped forward with her arms crossed.

The president pulled himself up at her words as a glimmer of hope sparked in his eyes. "I haven't done anything wrong! I had it all. Everything I could ever want was right there in front of me!" He groaned in frustration, hanging his head against his chest.

"Why are you here then?"

"I don't know, I didn't do anything! Why would I hurt my own people? I am loyal to Arabel, just as they should be to me. Just like you should be; you are, aren't you Kyra?"

That's when it dawned on her. The government wanted loyalty. They wanted her to kill two of the people she loved most and stay loyal to Arabel. It made sense. They wanted loyal citizens to look after themselves and others, to follow their laws blindly - no matter what was trying to threaten them, whether it be a father or a friend.

President Tyrell was innocent. Her father was guilty. James - she had no idea. But she knew what she had to do.

As Kyra backed into the centre of the room, the men began to stir again, their chains extending as they crept forward. The soles of her shoes were slippery with blood, but she didn't trip; her legs were as stiff as lead, keeping her body from falling down. It didn't stop her hands from wobbling though, or the pain blossoming in her chest.

The cool metal of the platform brought her to the present with a jolt.

The president slumped forward on his hands and knees, his back arching with every sob. Kyra tossed him the key. "Unlock yourself." She spoke through taut lips. The light over his cell went dark – one decision made. Two gut-wrenching decisions to go.

Kyra's father just nodded and smiled, as if he knew what was coming next. He was telling her it was okay, even though it was anything but. It only made her angrier. Her real father wouldn't condone this. No good person would.

"You're not real," she croaked.

If he was there he would tell her to do what felt right, not what the society told her was right; as she'd come to learn over the years they were two very different things. Learning was right, listening was right, sticking to her values was right. But murder was not.

"I am, Kyra. I am. I'm as real as I am innocent."

Kyra closed her eyes and let herself see him, something she rarely did. His smile was all teeth and dimples and seemed to make the rest of his face glow. The dark locks atop his head were spotted with grey and shaggy, falling into his hazel eyes. Wrapped around him was Kyra's mother Faye. She pressed her lips against his lightly tanned cheek as he threw his head back and laughed. That was the last memory she had of them both. It was also her happiest.

The gun no longer shook in her clenched hands, and she pushed it away from her chest, straightening her arms for the shot. Kyra's control wavered as she pressed down lightly on the trigger; it was not enough to release a bullet, but enough to make her heart jump to her throat and stomach twist in knots. Two bullets. There was no room for error. It's now or never.

Breathe, she thought. But there was something in her throat, a weight that could only be lifted by the trigger being pulled. Lips taut, she raised her arm, training it on the spot she planned to fire her first bullet. A cry escaped her lips, but she gulped it back, blinking through the tears clouding her vision.

"Never." The gun dropped to her side. She reached for the first aid kit behind her and held it out, just past her father's reach. "If you were real, you would never condone this. You would be fighting this for yourself, for me, for mum, for Danny, for the citizens you promised you would protect."

She closed her eyes. "I'm giving you this so you can heal yourself, you have thirty long years in here to grow. Use them to find yourself."

As his hands closed around the bag, his light went dark.

Sighing, she turned to face the final choice. What else could she call him? Prisoner, best friend, test? Nothing felt right. He didn't feel right.

"Come on, Kyra. The suspense could quite literally kill me." James' voice snapped her back to reality.

There were still two objects left: the gun and the book. She took both in her hands and knelt down at his side.

Smiling, she said, "the real James would murder me if I didn't give him a choice. So, I'm going to ask you: is your dream worth dying for? Would you rather step past that fence and die? Or stay in here for five years, get some therapy and make a difference when you leave?"

He raised his brows. "A book or a bullet. That's a hell of a choice." He reached down to turn the cover over and let out a low whistle. "Good book, too."

"I'm glad it's not my choice to make." She bit her lip and stood back.

James stood with an object in each hand, weighing them out. Kyra couldn't watch but she also couldn't look away; her eyes followed his movements, watched as the book fell to the floor. Before she could stop him the gun was raised to his head. The chains stopped him before he could fall to his knees. He hung there, suspended, frozen, like a marionette puppet. Gone.

---

Kyra's eyes shot open before she fell to the ground. She was breathing short, heavy breaths. Sweat beads ran down her face and hands. She looked around at the same dimly lit room she'd started in, and checked twice, just to make sure there was no blood, no cells and no prisoners.

Kyra's body reacted before her mind, and in seconds she was outside in the foyer, where three new victims were already waiting for their turn. They stared at her, confusion and fear on their faces. She tried to smile, but the tears gave her true emotions away. Pain washed over her like waves that only got harder and more frequent the further she got from that place. It felt like she'd been gone for hours. Outside the sun was as bright as before, the list of Testers still being read. She must have only been gone for seconds.

An Enforcer led her off the veranda. Their vice-like grip was the only thing keeping her from breaking into a sprint. As soon as they let her go she was tearing through the crowd, stopping to stand on the tip of her toes to get a better view. But he was nowhere to be seen. She sighed and slowed her pace to a walk.

"Kyra?"

Her head whipped up. There he was. Alone, arms crossed as he leaned back against a tree. He almost looked normal.

"James!"

His face split into a smile - and then into something even worse. Understanding. Had he gone through the same thing? Whether he had or not, Kyra didn't know and didn't care, as right at the moment James pulled her into a tight hug. She savoured the warmth he gave off and inhaled his sweet scent. His hugs were just as good as her father's had been, only James was real, and her father was not.

"Are you okay?" James whispered into her hair, so quiet that only she could hear.

The words bounced around her skull. I just saw you die, she wanted to say. The thought caused more tears to spring but she buried her head further in his chest. Was she okay?

"No, but I will be."