Kyra gripped her aching side with one hand as James wrapped a bandage around the other. Grimacing, she looked around the training room to take her mind off the throbbing pain in her knuckle. It was much the same as it had been two weeks ago; the only differences were the darkness that'd replaced sunlight out the window and a dull chill in the air that never faded, despite how hot she felt. Harnesses for the climbing wall lay abandoned on the floor alongside a stopwatch, souvenirs of the other exercises they'd completed in the past three weeks.

James gently finished the wrapping and passed Kyra her water bottle. "Good attempt."

Kyra rolled her eyes. "I told you I couldn't fight you, and look," she held up her bandaged finger, "I was right."

"You still tried though, and that's the main thing. You did exactly what I taught you to."

She gulped down the icy water. "I didn't win though."

He shrugged. "It's not always about winning, not if all you need to do is distract someone momentarily to get away from them - like you did. It's about survival. Sometimes a perfectly directed hit can be the difference between life or death."

Kyra leaned forward on her elbows, frowning as James scribbled down information on his notepad. "Do you really think the outside will be that dangerous?" When it became apparent just how much training Kyra would need, the Exempt arranged for the surveillance in the training building to be turned off. It was comforting, knowing that there, in that room, it was just them and no one else listening in. All of her memories were changing, revealing little details she'd never seen before: cameras, microphones, little eyes everywhere. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been truly alone other than in the sanctuary of her bedroom.

He stopped to take a deep breath, blue eyes focusing on Kyra's with a familiar look. "Yes. And nature won't be the only threat, Enforcers will come after you too. Which is why I want to start weaponry training today." He slid a long, thin box from his bag.

The bottle slipped from Kyra's grasp. "What?" The thought of it twisted Kyra's stomach into knots. Ever since her Vinctures, she'd been haunted by dreams of guns, waking up with flashing memories of blood and death and violence. She wiped her palms against her shirt but they were slick with sweat and slid off. A knife she could handle, maybe even a stun gun, but a weapon - fake or not - she'd seen her best friend use to kill himself? She couldn't even fathom the idea.

James didn't look up from his clipboard. "You never know when you'll need that training."

"But you didn't say anything about that before."

"It'll happen at some point anyway, the safe handling of weaponry is a part of the course curriculum." James shrugged. "Besides, we don't need to keep training self-defense today, your muscles will be sore enough tomorrow as is."

There was no counter argument in sight - unless she wanted to tell him about the Vinctures. And that was something she never wanted to discuss.

James ran through the basics in great detail; he turned his weapon over every time a new feature was mentioned, outlining its function and purpose. Kyra tried to listen, but her heart was pounding, blocking out all other noises. She focused on breathing deep gulps of air that never seemed to be enough for her lungs. The gun was too similar to the one from her Vinctures, the one that molded to her palm like a part of her body, the one she passed to James - the one he'd used to kill himself.

With each blink she saw him in chains. A gun. Blood. The sound of her own scream rang in her ears.

"This is all about the correct handling of a gun, the different pieces, the functionality. You have to understand it before you can even begin to think about using it."

James' hands on Kyra's shoulder were the only thing keeping her upright. He nudged her feet apart and steadied her arm. She realised she was shaking; she wasn't even holding the gun yet. The feeling was so familiar that she knew it was bad, but her mind was occupied, too busy with painful thoughts to make the connection.

"Relax," he whispered, his warm breath stirring hair around her face. Louder, he said, "Okay, that's good. This position will get you the most accurate shot."

Panic gripped her abdomen like fireworks that burned and prodded each particle they touched. She searched for an anchor, anything to stop the primal urge to flee – she looked to James, but even he wasn't there anymore. She tried to speak – no answer. She longed to curl up on the ground and cover her face until the stinging in her eyes subsided but she was frozen, the fear in her veins sticking her to that spot.

"I think you're ready to hold it now." It was James' voice, but it sounded different – distorted. Her breathing became more rapid, more shallow. James grabbed her hand, placing something cold and solid in her palm. The gun slipped from her fingers with a bang.

She jumped backwards as James slumped down against the wall, blood spraying through the air like a burst pipe. In a blink she was staring at the real James, her hand still raised, lips set in a silent scream. A hand on her shoulder made her jump. She spun on her heel, stumbling.

"Don't touch me." The words came out in a mumble as she tried to steady herself; it didn't help that the room span with the slightest provocation. Her ribs were like a corset around her lungs. She moved without realising, her limbs jumpy no matter how hard she fought to stay in control.

I can't breathe. She opened her lips to stay it, but nothing came out. Everything felt wrong. She was wrong. The plan they were preparing for was wrong. It would fail, and she would hurt everyone she loved. It was all her fault – everything was her fault. If she died on the spot the world would be better off. Why am I bothering? she wondered. Even my best friend doesn't think I can do it.

"Kyra are you alright?" It was as though James was on the other side of a glass wall. She could hear his words, see his lips moving, but everything was blurred, the sounds heavy.

"I... I have to... Have to..." Her breathing came out raspy and whistled in her ears. A hand clawed at her neck, as though that would open up her windpipe and fill her lungs with what she desperately craved. Every step he took towards her she took two back, stumbling around the spinning room. Kyra fell to her knees. The walls felt like they were getting closer, crawling towards her until it would be just her and her demons stuck in a tight, dark corner.

James knelt in front of her. "Kyra," he murmured. "How many lights are above us?"

"I... I can't." She stopped to take a shallow breath. "I can't... can't look up."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked. He didn't move closer, and she was grateful for it.

"I, I think... I think it's two fingers," she said. Her shallow breaths deepened.

James nodded. "And now?" He held his hand up again; it was clearer than before.

"Three."

Kyra held her head between her knees. How long she stayed like that was a mystery; she didn't move until the ground steadied beneath her, until she was sure her tears were gone. She raised her head. James was no longer kneeling. He was standing a mere metre away - hands tangled in his hair, forehead creased, lips turned down at the corners. Her eyes found his before he had a chance to wipe his expression clean.

"You haven't had one of those in a while."

"It's been years actually." Her fingertips rested on her lips, collecting the salty tears settled there. "I'm so sorry you had to see that, I'm just... struggling."

"Don't ever apologise." James sat across from her, taking her shaking hand in his steady one. "Why didn't you talk to me? Bottling things up never works."

"We haven't been in a great place as is, I didn't want to give you another reason to think I couldn't do this."

James pursed his lips. "The gun, it triggered something? A memory?"

She nodded. The worst memory of my life, she wanted to say. She couldn't escape it or hide from it; memories were the worst kind of monster, more malicious than anything she ever read about or imagined. And yet the one that haunted her wasn't even real. "I've been holding out on you."

"I may be the king of secret keeping but you're a close runner up."

Kyra rubbed her temple. "I know. Whoever paired us together after the Vinctures must have had a good laugh imagining the ensuing drama."

He breathed a chuckle. "Between the two of us we have enough to cry about to fill the river."

Kyra shrugged. "Maybe if there's a drought next year we'll come in handy."

James grinned as he let her go and crossed to the clipboard, scribbling something down. She looked at her toes as the thoughts she had earlier came back to her. The plan will fail, and it will be because of me. Everything will be my fault.

"James?" He spun to look at her. "You have to trust that I'm doing the right thing. It's too late to back out now - no matter what you think - and you doubting me makes me doubt myself even more. I can't lose it like this again, not when there is so much on the line."

"Kyra, I-"

"Let me finish. Please," she added. "In a perfect world you'd be the one doing this, but this isn't perfect. It's Arabel. And if you can support me in this, I promise you I will do everything I can to save Ashley, even if it costs me my life."

"It won't come to that."

"It might."

"No, it won't, because I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you don't have to."

She shook her head. "It's not that simple James."

"How can I simplify it then?"

"Support me. Tell me you think I can do it when I'm doubting myself. Tell me this is the only way we can save all of those people. Tell me it will make a difference and that I'm not wasting my life on this."

His eyes searched hers for a moment, blue on hazel, before he nodded. "Okay. I'll support you - on one condition."

Her eyes narrowed. "What's your condition?"

"You buy me a coffee." He wagged his eyebrows, grinning.

"I'm not fuelling your caffeine addiction," she laughed. When he pouted, she sighed, and said, "Alright just one. And only because I think you've got the shakes."

James pumped his fist as he grabbed his clipboard. She shook her head as she watched him walk away. With each of his lithe footsteps the pressure on her chest lifted, her breathing becoming a little easier. "If only you could come with me," she whispered, just loud enough that she thought he might hear it. Hoping he did. Maybe then she would have the courage to do what she'd promised she would do on the outside. At that moment, all she felt was her body fighting her mind at every turn. Somehow, they'd both won today. It was only a matter of time before she lost.

--- author's note ---

Hey! I feel like I'm constantly apologising for being the worst updater in the world. XD Once again, sorry for going MIA. On the very very bright side, I've finalised all my university plans so I can relax a little bit and write!

How are you guys? I hope you all had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Anyone have New Year resolutions this year? Mine is to not drown in stress lmao.

As always, thank you guys so much for your support and feedback. I would have given up on this novel a while ago if it weren't for you so thank you, thank you, thank you! Any thoughts on this chapter or where you see the novel going would be fantastic to read.

I hope everyone is doing great. xx