I cried while writing this so enjoy <3

Kevin's POV:

Muffled singing is the first thing my ears pick up when my eyes begin to flutter open. Though...I can't see anything, just darkness. I try to sit up but a sharp pain slices through my head, forcing me to lay back down.

How the heck did I get here?

It smells damp in here—wherever here is—and the only light I see comes from a thin crack near the floor. Light footsteps shuffle from outside the cramped area. I clench my eyes shut; what exactly happened?

I feel the heavy clothing on my back; layers and layers of fabric. Fur itches at my face, tickling my cheeks. My face feels stiff, as if pounds of makeup or paint is caked on it.

I grab my pounding head. Tonight was...opening night for our play. I-I was playing Beast—that's why I have all this weird clothing on—and then...and then...what then?

I massage my temples; what is that singing?

This is a musical, there's bound to be singing.

But if I'm Beast, why am I not up there singing with them?

My brain fights to remember, remember something, anything about what happened. But all I can concentrate on is how badly my head hurts. And I-

Muffled voices from just outside wherever I am draw my attention when I hear my name. I wince as I carefully scoot myself closer to the crack of light.

"First Kevin gets sick, and then Peyton runs off? I really can't believe this! And on opening night too!" One voice says.

Peyton ran off? To where? Oh god, did something happen? No no, not tonight. We weren't expecting tonight!

"Maybe she just couldn't stand having to act in love with Steve again, I mean I heard their breakup was pretty rough." Another voice responds.

It hits me when I hear his name.

Steve

Anger rushes through, white-hot and blinding. He knocked me out; stole my role in the play for some sort of twisted plan. I don't know what the plan was, but if Peyton isn't onstage right now then I can only assume the worst:

They succeeded.

And they can't have, not when we've been so careful, so cautious.

All it took was a minute

I force all of the possibilities out of my mind and focus on getting off the floor. Pain jabs at my head at every slight movement, but I don't stop; I need to get to Peyton. I have to make sure nothing happens to her. I have to.

I use my fury to fuel me as I finally, finally make it to my feet, my head now throbbing. Taking a few quick breaths to steady myself, I reach for the doorknob and...

It won't open. Great.

My anger melts into frustration. Of course Steve wouldn't make it easy enough that I would be able to just walk out the door! I grit my teeth; I am not giving up. So I bang on the door relentlessly, making each knock louder than the last. They give me flashbacks from the time someone pounded on a door, but I don't stop. I can't stop.

Then, finally, I hear the scuffle of shoes coming my way and the door knob begins to wiggle. When the door finally opens, I find myself staring into the green eyes of my understudy, who is wearing the exact same costume as I am.

Anger rushes through me again. Steve Thompson.

Even underneath all the makeup you can see the color draining from his face. His eyes widen. "What are y-"

I strike him in the face before he can finish. Not hard enough to knock him out of course—I'm not strong enough for that—but it's enough to leave a red spot. He may be three times my size, but I had to do it. He more than deserves it. And I can tell he knows it too because he doesn't even look mad when he turns back to me, just panicked.

"Where is Peyton?" I ask, keeping my voice low and controlled.

He begins to shake his head. "No no no this can't have happened! Damn it!"

My heart starts to beat faster. "Steve I said where's Peyton! What did you do!"

"They told me they were bringing you to the base! They told me that was the plan!" He nearly shouts, becoming more panicked by the second. "But they—they knew I would tell her, they knew that I would try to help her! I-"

He stops short, face red and hands shaking. My head pounds from Steve's words.

"Steve," I begin quietly. "what did you do?"

He shakes his head. "I didn't know. Kevin I swear to you, I didn't know."

"Just tell me!"

He looks me in the eye. "She's at the base. She's at the base because I told her that they were keeping you there. She's there to save you, but they're waiting for her there. They're going to hurt her, and it's my fault."

My legs start to move before he finishes. The words are enough to make me forget the pain in my head and start running; sprinting to her, no matter how far away she is.

I will get to her in time, and that's a promise.

***

30 minutes earlier- Peyton's POV:

Flames dance around the tiny room. Smoke fills the air. Deja vu overwhelms me as I remember the first time this place was in flames, though that time was different, that time I was in control.

The growing fire forces Allie and I in a corner, desperately trying to avoid the flickering flames.

Syla laughs wickedly. "My my, I must say it feels so satisfying to finally see you in trapped in a corner like that. Maybe all this waiting really was worth it."

"Or maybe it just gave us more time to prepare," I retort, using Allie's knife to cut off a few layers of my dress as it begins to catch on fire.

She laughs louder. "Prepare? Is that what you call this? Because all I see is two girls who ran willingly into our arms, trying to save a love who isn't even here," She sticks out her bottom lip. "You do love him, don't you Blondie?"

"Shut up," I snap as the flames draw nearer; we're going to have to make a move soon.

I sneak a swift glance at Allie, who gives the slightest nod in return. That's all it takes to make the plan clear: Wait until she's distracted, and then let her feel the nice shot of a gun. I tighten my grip on the weapon; I just need to find the perfect moment.

She grins as she twirls her dark hair. "Oh, defensive are we? It's alright you know, you're only fooling yourself with that whole 'I don't care for him' act. For someone who plays the lead in your little play, you really suck at acting."

"And yet I fooled you, didn't I?"

Her sneer melts into a scowl. "Oh yes, that matter. Well, I would say you got some of that in return, didn't you? You know with dear, darling, Wonderboy?"

Anger flashes through me and I slightly lift up my gun to ready it.

She gives a small, venom filled smile. "Hurts doesn't it? To find out someone you loved was lying, pretending just for something bigger than yourself? I suppose I would know, wouldn't I?"

I narrow my eyes. How would she know that feeling? From what I remember, Syla never-

My heart drops as the realization dawns on me.

Oh no

I must look shocked at the implication of her words because she scoffs, "That's right Blondie, I cared for you, and you betrayed me. So now," Her eyes narrow. "I will break you."

She cracks her neck, which, if i remember correctly, is what Syla always does right before she launches herself at you.

She knocks the table down and lets it fuel the flames. Then, she comes flying at me.

Shoot I remembered correctly

I whip the gun out without a second thought. Syla freezes.

For a moment there's silence; no sound other than the crackle of the raging fire. No sound of gunshots, no screams of agony, just silence. Syla stares at me, eyes flickering between my eyes and my outstretched hand. Then, she does the unexpected.

She laughs.

Allie nudges me. "What are you waiting for? Shoot her!"

My heart's in my throat. My finger is laying on the trigger, alert and ready to pull it, but I cannot get my fingers to move.

Syla finishes out her laugh. "That's right Peyton, shoot me! Go ahead, I don't mind; let's see what spark is left in you."

My fingers remain frozen.

She begins to walk towards me slowly, walking right through the flames that now reach above her ankles. She doesn't wince, she doesn't back down, she just continues to walk straight at me.

Allie makes a frustrated noise. "Peyton I really need you to do something right now! And if you won't, I will!"

Just pull it, you've done it before, don't start to choke up now! The voice inside of me yells.

Sweat drips down my face; my hand begins to shake.

Do it! Do it! Do it!

The chant does nothing. I can't pull the trigger.

She's right on me now; her chest presses against the tip of the gun. I could shoot her right now and leave to go find Kevin, shoot her now and be over with this for the time being. I grit my teeth; Syla is my enemy, this shouldn't be so hard!

She chuckles. "Oh Blondie, you really have gone soft haven't you?" Her hand shoots out and grabs my chin; I remain still. "And after all I taught you...Shame for it to all go to waste, wouldn't you say?"

Her face is inches away from mine. "I...I never meant to hurt you Syla, but what you do, what you stand for...I just couldn't stand with you."

"Lies," She snarls, her breath hot on my face. "You wanted me behind bars, your whole plan was to hurt me! And I thought you were everything, but you were nothing but a two-faced bastard!"

I hear Allie moving carefully beside me, but Syla, thankfully, doesn't seem to pick up on this. I shift my focus back to her. "Syla I-"

"I don't think you understand, Blondie," She cuts in. "I don't want an apology, oh no. It's far too late for that. What I want is to see you writhe in pain. To see those bright blue eyes of yours go dark with hopelessness, see the light go out of them, and to know that I've won,"

She lowers her voice to a menacing whisper, gripping my face tighter. "And I'm not going to stop until either you're dead on the ground, or everyone else around you is."

Her body moves in a flash, flipping me over and slamming me to the ground. My vision goes dark for a moment; but when it returns all I can see is Syla with my gun in her hands, the weapon pointed at my throat, and the white-hot flames encircling us.

"Oh, and don't think I came alone, darling. I'm just the warm up, you haven't the faintest idea how much we can make you suffer." Her finger pulls back the trigger. I wait for it to let go, to feel the blinding pain that I know will just be the beginning, but nothing comes.

Because before she can let go, a small figure who I can identify as Allie Baker flies at her, knocking her off my chest and causing the gun to shoot the ceiling instead.

And then, simultaneously, the ceiling caves in just as the wall behind us explodes with a bang, causing everything to go black and for all hell to reign free.

***

I awake to the sound of yelling. My skin feels way too hot. The air is too intoxicated to properly breathe. My head feels heavy; it's so hard to get up.

"This wasn't a part of the plan! People are going to alert the fire department and the cops! And you're injured, Syla, I can't have one of my best fighters down," A deep voice booms amidst the crackling flames.

That's right, I'm in a burning building, and Kevin isn't.

But Allie is; where is she? Is she alright?

A sharp, burning pain floods into my arm like fire itself. I clench my jaw to keep myself from crying out. The heavy smoke in the air prevents my eyes from opening past slits, and even so my eyes water terribly, but I manage to get a glimpse at the ugly, charred skin of my right arm.

Great, there goes my dominant arm.

"Calm down, alright? I'm fine, nothing I can't handle. And besides, Peyton and her little friend are out cold. Which means we are free to do whatever we like..." A rough voice, Syla's, replies, her footsteps getting dangerously louder.

Get up, or stay down? Get up, or stay down?

The question echoes uselessly in my mind, Syla getting closer to me with each second.

If you get up, what good would you be with your hurt arm? Not to mention you're unarmed.

But if I don't Syla's free to do whatever to me and Allie, assuming Allie hasn't—no, don't go there.

Just wait for the right moment, then attack.

I don't exactly like waiting but it's the best thing I've got at the moment. So I let my body fall limp and try not to react when Syla finally reaches me.

"Aw, looks like Blondie's injured, Mal. Probably hurts a ton...Mal, knife."

My mind screams at me to get up and run. Because I have enough surfaced memories of Syla with a knife to know that it never ends well. My heart pounds and I will my body not to tense.

Once you feel where the knife is you can make your move and grab it.

Well, you can at least try to grab it.

"What's the magic word?" The deep voice, who I now remember as Mal, asks.

"Mal I swear if you don't-"

"Magic word!"

"For God's sake, please!"

"There you go."

I can hear his heavy steps getting closer to me, handing Syla the weapon, and then shuffling out of the room. Her breath is hot on my face as she kneels next to me.

"Wakey wakey..." She croons.

Then she slashes right through the charred, mangled skin of my arm.

The tang of blood fills my mouth as I bite down on my tongue to keep myself from screaming. My eyes can't help but fill with tears. It takes everything in me to not move too suddenly; it takes everything in me not to move at all. My arm cries out with pain and throbs so violently I almost sob.

Get the knife, get the knife, get the knife, My mind chants, trying to stay focused through the haze of pain.

Syla's removed the knife so I don't know where exactly it is-

Lights flash in front of my eyes when the sharp blade is thrusted into the already burnt, bleeding wound.

I can't pretend to be unconscious anymore, not in this much pain. I make my move. My eyes fly open and in one quick motion I sit up and try to snatch the knife from Syla's hand.

I didn't get the knife.

Syla slams me back to the flame covered ground, dodging my attack easily. She laughs. "You'll have to do better than that, Peyton. Honestly I thought I taught you better than this; guess three years in a coma really takes a toll on the memories, doesn't it?"

I glare at her. At least I think I do, my mind keeps going back to the amount of pain I'm in. And speaking of pain...

"You look awful," I spit out, trying to focus on the burnt flesh of her face. The hideous burn starts right above her left eyebrow and ends at the cleft of her chin. She has to be in about as much pain as I am.

"You're not looking too great yourself," Her eyes examine me, "In fact Blondie, you're looking rather sick. Is it because you have no idea what we could've done with dear, darling, Kevin?"

"Shut up!" I growl, my mind snapping out of it's daze.

"Aw, you really are worried, aren't you? Well don't you worry your pretty little head off, we're taking good care of him," The wicked gleam in her eyes makes me want to gouge them out with my bare hands.

My mind races to another thought. "Where's Allie?"

"What, you care for her as well? Didn't really think she was your type."

"Where is she!"

"Now now, no need to get all snippy. I actually have no idea where your little friend is, seems like she made a run for it," Syla tells me, "smart girl."

Could Allie have abandoned me? Honestly I wouldn't blame her if she did, who wouldn't run from a burning building if given the chance? But if she hasn't and she's still here...I have to get up and find her, make sure she gets out alive.

I have to get up.

My eyes focus back on the black, sensitive burn on Syla's face. If I could somehow injure her...Somehow get one moment away from her...Yes, all I need is a moment. I know what I need to do.

She smirks at my silence. "That pain finally settling in? Don't go out on me yet Blondie, it's so much more fun to torture you when you're awake."

I don't respond.

Her eyes search my face. "Maybe I should give you another wake up call," Her eyes finally land on my mouth. "You know I used to dream of those pretty lips of yours, of all the things I wanted to do with them. But now, I can think of so many better things to do."

She leans in close to my face, her smirk growing into a delighted grin. I flinch as the point of the sharp blade digs into my lip. Syla looks at me with glee as she slowly drags the knife across my mouth in a thin line. I can taste the blood that flows from the large cut.

Her hand leaves my right arm as she carves into my lips. My arm throbs terribly, but I can't waste my opportunity. My face twists with pain and my arm screams with protest as I move it as fast as I can to Syla's face. And before she can react, before she can make the slightest movement, I dig my fingernails into the charred skin of her face.

Her scream comes out shrill and she immediately loosens her grip on me as her body rages with pain. I throw her off me and get to my feet shakily, my beautiful ball gown ruined and in shreds. The knife clatters to the ground; my good arm shoots out to get it before Syla regains her focus. I quickly run out of the small room.

Mal comes barreling towards me as soon as I'm out of the small room. Of course he heard Syla's scream, Canada probably heard it. Vengeance is written all over his face as he sprints in my direction threateningly. Suddenly a snippet of a memory plays in my mind; Mal teaching me how to throw a knife at a target.

"It's all in the wrist; keep it nice and relaxed, but don't let the release be lazy, it has to be a clean snap."

"Like this?" I asked.

"You want the wrist loose, not the whole hand. Keep your grip firm, those fingers tight on the handle."

I almost grin at the usefulness of the memory. Thanks for the lesson, Mal.

Wrist loose, grip firm, fingers tight.

I release the knife with a sharp snap of my wrist. Mal's going too fast to move out of the way when my weapon flies through the air. Instead, he runs right into it, the blade sticking out of his upper thigh. He crumbles to the ground, yelling a stream of curses at me.

"That's for making something as stupid as knocking one of my worst fears," I mutter just loud enough for him to hear as I move past his fallen body. He doesn't respond.

Now, time to find Allie.

But before I can even begin to wonder where on earth she could be, the sound of two gunshots explode from the room across from me. Then a scream. Then another.

No no no

I don't waste time on thinking before I sprint to the open door of the vast room. And in it I find the worst surprise party a girl could dream of.

The members of X surround me, each of them holding their own unique weapon. Panic surges through me as I gape at them all. Some of them are from when I was here, others are fresh-faced and new. Madge is near the front, a crazed smile on her face, and a revolver in her blood-slick hands.

And Allie's on the floor, clutching her stomach as her shirt quickly goes from brown to crimson.

"No!" I scream, falling to the ground beside Allie, who breathes shallowly.

My vision blurs with tears. "Allie, Allie I'm going to get you out of here. Just hang on,"

She's covered with blood, even her glasses. I quickly wipe them off and place them gently back on her face. She looks at me. "I tried Peyton, I gave her my best shot."

The second gunshot. My eyes shoot to Madge, who continues to smile at me. But as I look closer I can see the stain of blood steadily growing on her shoulder. Allie must've tried after she got shot. But it wasn't a killing shot; Madge still stands.

Tears streak my face. "I know, and you did so good! Just hang in there while I take these guys down, okay? Here, press this down on the wound and stop the bleeding," I tell her, ripping off a piece of my dress and holding it out to her.

"Take us down? Alone? I think I'm experiencing some deja vu." Madge remarks with a laugh. Though I'm happy to hear her breathing is unsteady.

I ignore her. In fact I ignore everyone around me. It's just me and Allie right now. "Take it hurry!"

Allie shakes her head. "Peyton you need to run,"

"Are you insane?! I'm not just going to leave you like this! Take it, take the damn cloth Allie!" I shout frantically.

But she grabs my hand instead. "I wish—I wish I could go back and fix everything I've done, everything I've said, but I can't. And I'm so sorry that I can't, I really regret it...all those years we could've been friends..." She chokes out, tears mixing with her blood.

"Why are you talking like that! It's going to be fine, you're going to be fine! Just—Just let me...I can save everyone! Just let me-"

"Do you forgive me?" She asks, her voice as thin as paper.

A sob escapes my lips. "What about starting over? I thought you wanted that, why don't you that?" Her hand isn't as warm as it was moments ago.

She shakes her head again. "I need to know if you forgive me, Peyton please."

I squeeze her hand tight. "Of course Allie, of course I do," I sob again. "Please don't leave, Allie, don't. What about me, what about Kevin-"

Her eyes leave mine. "Kevin...he was the first good thing in my life since my family passed. Let him know that he saved me, will you?"

"You can tell him yourself-"

She gives a tiny chuckle. "No, Peyton, I can't. You know I can't."

I shake my head violently. "Stop it, just—just stop it!"

Her hazel eyes glisten and her pale lips curve into a smile. "My family...I'll get to see them again. Oh it's been so long..."

Then those bright, observing eyes of her go dull. Her small, delicate body goes limp. And her skin is ice cold.

Allie Baker is dead.

Allie Baker, my enemy, my friend, is dead.

We just had our last encounter.

My sobs stop; my tears slow. Slowly, I look around at the crowd of people surrounding me. At their bored faces; at their smug smiles. Madge cackles. She throws her head back and laughs at my friend's death as if it's the funniest thing in the world.

Everything inside of me hardens. My pain, my sadness, my grief, I push it all away to make way for the burning rage inside of me. My hands move on their own as they move for the gun laying by Allie's dead body. Madge breaks the biggest rule she ever taught me:

Never take your eyes of your opponent.

The bullet goes through her chest. The next through her heart. The girl freezes mid-laugh, the smile still etched on her face. "Good one, hon! I had fun, now it's done. Ha! That rhymes..."

Then, with one last laugh, she collapses to the floor, joining Allie.

"Who's next?" I yell at the crowd of people. Their eyes on their fallen leader.

I pull the trigger again, trying to show them that I'm serious. But when the gun clicks empty, my heart drops. Snickers and threatening cracks of knuckles surround me.

Great, just what I needed. Way to prove a point Peyton!

"Feeling confident, are we Blondie?" A rough voice rasps from behind me.

Syla stands in the doorway with a triumphant smirk, blood streaking her face, and leaving me surrounded.

What now?

Allie's words echo in my head: "Peyton you need to run,"

Wise words.

So I chuck the gun at Syla's head, push past her fallen body, and run.

The battle cry of X is heard behind me as I run for my life.

***

Sweat pours down my face as I run in my ragged ball gown. My shoeless feet ache with each step. Blood roars in my ears and tears flood my vision.

I'm not going to make it a second time.

My hearts pounds. My lungs burn. I continue to run.

I can still hear their screams from behind me. The gunshots have stopped, but they have other weapons, and when they catch me that's it.

No more do overs.

No more second chances.

I crash through the trees, sticks and thorns pricking my body and ripping my dress. But I can't stop, not even when I reach the end of the woods and the highway lays out in front of me.

Not again.

Deja vu overwhelms me and for a moment I am unable to move. But then I hear the victorious shouts behind me as they see that I am frozen with fear.

I will not give them that satisfaction.

I sprint out into the road without hesitating.

Cars whiz past me as I narrowly run by them. None of them stop, stopping only leads to death and injuries, something I know well. But I don't stop, not this time.

Horns honk at me, drivers yell at me, but I do not stop.

I can hear them coming behind me. They don't stop either.

Nothing seems to stop.

It all happens so quickly. All it takes is a minute.

I hear a desperate cry for help behind me and I whip around. Syla lies on the ground, her ankle twisted in an unnatural position. The car is coming behind her quick.

She's my enemy, I know...but she was once my friend.

And I can't just leave her.

I sprint for her. I grab her by the arms and haul her to her feet, though she can't put any weight on the twisted one. We dive together, moving out of the way just in time.

Panting, I ask her, "Are you oka-"

Her smirk cuts me off. That devious, no-good smirk that a person wear that lets you know you've made the wrong choice in helping them. It's only then do I realize that she's still holding on to my good arm.

"I've never been better, my dear."

She throws me back into the road. I land atop of my hurt arm, causing me to cry out. My head spins from the impact. Spots dance in front of eyes. My body doesn't want to move. I can't get to my feet, I can't get up at all.

I spot Syla smiling down at me. She's won, she knows she has, and I know it now too.

Allie, I'm sorry. You died for nothing, for a failure. I'll be joining you instead.

"Peyton!" A familiar voice shouts.

I can hear the wheels of an incoming car coming in fast, coming close to me. I close my eyes; this time I will die as Peyton Comber, not Olivia Wright. This time I will die unsatisfied, die with so many things left unfinished. This time I'm not ready, I'm not, I'm not, I'm not.

I'm not!

I wait for the hard impact, for death to drag me away. But none of that comes.

None of that comes because at the last second two arms push me out of the way hard, causing me to fall on my back on the side of the road.

The last thing I see before things go dark is a pair of cracked glasses falling beside me.

Wasn't that a delightful chapter? Ngl I cried while writing this at three in the morning...Oh well, have a good rest of your day! Love y'all! -Vanna