Rachel Eliza Darlington!!! 8 will have to wait. Because this needs to be seen.

Imagine if Jake was revived:

      Jake woke from the long and fitful nightmare of reality. Every image of Roulette faded away until he saw the rough, dead ground he'd died on.
      He'd won the game? He'd made it out. Out of Roulette and out of the eternal expanse of death. He was free. Well.. he was back inside the clock, but free to live.
      He leaped to his feet and grabbed his head, he'd given himself a headache. The difference in blood pressure in his head going straight to very high from... well, nothing.
      Eventually, as the aching pain subsided, he rubbed his eyes and looked around. Exactly as he'd remembered. Except... empty.
      Of course his friends were missing, they'd probably made it out already! And of course they wouldn't have wanted to carry his dead weight.
      They might have even defeated the clock. Except... if that was true, surely he wouldn't be able to be inside it now? Or was he simply stuck here forever?
      He began to think Roulette was better. Then he shook his head and binned that thought. No, that game was horrible.
      Which left one thing left to believe. His friends had made it out, of course, he'd watched them from within the glass walls. The walls that projected the lives of his friends. But the clock had also survived. Which meant he was still in the middle of Hell.
      His first thought? Camilla. How was she? Was she okay? Did she survive? And then... of course. She had a child now. "Athena.." he breathed, with the hope that that name meant something more.
      Perhaps she really had loved him back. Although, she'd never said it. He guessed she could have said it after he'd died. That was still a possibility. Though somehow, he doubted it.
      He started to choke suddenly. His hands shot to his throat and he began to cough. He collapsed to his hands and knees and started breathing again. He hadn't done it in a while so his body had forgotten how to do it.
      After regaining the ability to breathe and think straight, he assumed, he started walking in the direction his friends had gone. Just in case.
      Then he stopped. A figure was stood in front of him... Tall, wiry, feature-less and shadow-like. Shadows. No. Not the shadows. My this time, not when there was only him there to defend. He'd survive it.
      He wondered why he'd immediately become defensive. Sure, the guy seemed like a shadow. But that didn't mean he was evil. The clock was. That was all.
      He walked closer and closer, wanting directions or guidance out of this place. He only realised when he was stood right in front of the figure that he'd misjudged his fate.
      This was the clock.
      "Clock," Jake swallowed.
      "Jake," said the clock, inside his head without making a move. "You recognise me, yet you've never seen my face."
      "I feel like I have..." Jake replied, not knowing where these answers were coming from, but knowing they were the truth.
      "Because you have." The clock gave Jake a shape-less grin.
      "But you just said-"
      "Forget what I said," the clock laughed inside Jake's mind. "You've seen me before."
      "Okay... where? When? How? Why?" Jake rattled off the questions, not quite sure how he was even able to speak. He was certain his knees must have been shaking like crazy but he couldn't feel them and was too scared to look down.
      "Doesn't matter. Go, See Camilla again." The clock disappeared and so did Jake's surroundings. And then... he was back inside the academy.
      He walked the halls he'd only actually walked once before.
      He came across a telephone with twenty answer phone messages from "Twenty four years ago..." Jake mumbled. Of course, no one had been here to answer them.
      Being the nosey person he was, he pressed to listen to the first one. It was from his parents. His Mum was speaking.

      Hello? Hello. This is Jane and Ben Wilson. We are very worried about our son, Jake Wilson. He had never liked the idea of attending your academy. Please don't take it personally, he's never really liked dance. But he agreed to attend as long as he was able to stay with us on the weekends.
      It's Monday today and we still haven't heard from him.
      We understand that his views may have changed and that he may love the academy and maybe dancing too. However, we believe he would never stay without phoning or texting to tell us.
      Please, let us know as soon as possible how our son is getting on.
      Thank you.

      That was the end of the message. He had begun to cry and continued to do so, softly, as he started the second message. This time from his dad.

      Hello? Hello. This is Jane and Ben Wilson again, calling on the matter of our son, Jake Wilson.
     We love him so much and are honestly so worried about him. It's Tuesday and there's been nothing from him or you. Please can you do your best to send us a message of his well-being when you get the chance.
      We'll be over on Saturday anyway, if we still haven't heard, as it is his sixteenth birthday then. We don't want to miss it and I'm sure he would want us to.
      Thank you.

      Jake threw the phone across the room. He couldn't take it anymore. He was crying properly now. Twenty four years had passed and he was still fifteen. What would his parents think? Should he tell them?
      On the bright side, they hadn't missed his sixteenth birthday. It was still in seven days time.
      He assumed he'd keep ageing now he was alive again.
      Maybe this was why the clock had set him free. To live in confusion over family. But then... it had mentioned Camilla.
      Jake searched the contact list he'd located before entering the clock. Don't ask why, we always did this in new places. He had... superstitions.
      He looked up Camilla's name and memorised the address.
      He ran there, up and down streets, his pace never slowing. Until he stopped. He stopped outside her house and knocked on the door.
      Someone answered, but it wasn't Camilla or Athena. That was okay, he'd been expecting this. "Do you know the person who lived here twenty four years ago?"
      The man looked confused, "Yes, I knew them briefly as I handed them the cash for the house. Why?"
      "She's a... friend of mine," Jake said.
      The man looked him up and down, clearly checking what age he was supposed to be compared to what he looked like.
      "Do you know where she moved to?" Jake asked.
      "I think so." The man gave Jake the information that he knew. It was brief, of course it was. Camilla wouldn't have given a detailed address to anyone but herself. And her daughter.
      Jake nodded, thanked him, and ran off to find the street.
      Luckily for him, it was no more than half an hour of running. He used to call this feeling being out of breath, but now he knew what that was really like. And that wasn't this. Now he was just extremely tired and panting for air.
      He walked to the first house on the street, knocked on the door, and immediately scrambled away as a stout old lady with a broom in her hand approached the door.
      Roulette had messed with him a little more than he'd been willing to accept.
      He went door to door until finally, he was out of breath. Not because of tiredness, but because he'd swallowed it. He'd swallowed his breath in panic, not knowing what to say or do or.. "Hey."
      Camilla stood staring at him. He would have said it was a glare, but he knew her better than that. She was scared too. Scared, and surprised.
      He had his hands in his pockets, fingers crossed. "Athena,..."
      "Yes?" A smaller head popped out from under Camilla's arm, peering round the door.
       "Hello, but... I was talking to the original Athena. Your mother," Jake said softly. He smiled down at Athen and then looked up at Camilla again.
      Camilla pushed Athena back into the house. "Go."
      "Why?" Athena whined.
      "Just go," Camilla said, more forcefully.
      Athena sighed and ran upstairs to write in her journal.
      Camilla sighed and looked down at Jake. "You're alive."
      Jake grinned, "Thank you for noticing. And you're old."
      She laughed slightly but the look in her eyes was sad. And then it was sceptical. "How is this possible. And how did you know my daughter's name?"
      Jake tried to look into her eyes but she dodged the look and focused on the floor.
      "It's a long story," Jake started. He silently cursed himself for using the most used and most pathetic story opener ever. "I was dead but... I was taken to this place with a lot of other dead people. Mostly annoying, a few rather nice. Some creep forced us to play a game called Roulette to try to kill us off. But I won. I won and I survived and I'm here now." He took a deep breath. "Well," he released it, "I woke up in the clock but. The clock let me go."
      He could see Camilla tense at the mention of the clock. As if mentioning its existence could summon it.
      "I don't believe you," she whispered.
      He frowned, "Cammy, it's me. I promise you. I'm not jealous, because you're smarter and I know that. Cammy, I love you." He tried to meet her gaze again but again, she let him fail.
      "That's not how you said it," she whispered, and she turned away.
      She spoke with her back to him, "I want to believe you. But I can't. You could be the.. clock.. itself. The dead don't come back." She took another few steps inside and turned to say, "Just go away," one more time. And then she shut the door in his face.
      It was then he knew he'd failed. He hadn't won Roulette and the clock had never been nice to him. The clock had wanted this, and so had Roulette. To win wasn't to et your life back. It was to keep your death and be free from all outside knowledge.
      He'd lost Roulette. And he'd lost his one true love. To a clock. To a shadow.
      To himself.