Reed

Reed woke up as he so often did nowadays, jolting out of his nightmare with a hangover. He ran a hand through his hair and rolled onto his left, his eyes focusing on the huge pint glass of water on his bedside table as a groan escaped his lips. He reached for it with a trembling hand. He slithered out of bed with as little energy as he could muster and stumbled out of his bedroom to the bathroom across the landing, padding over the plush cherry red carpet. If he was being honest, he wasn't sure why his family had allowed him to stay in the rest of the manor like he belonged there and not down in the servants' quarters with the rest of the people who didn't belong; it wasn't like his family particularly wanted him around.

Apart from Veyandra, he could still count on her wanting him, but how long would that last? He couldn't hide behind his little sister forever, especially not now that she was going to the Maze. At least he wouldn't have to worry about losing her, because failure for Sector 1 was different, and the injustice of it made him want to line all the Game Masters up in a row and hit them silly. The other Sectors looked at them in Sector 1 and probably thought how lucky they were to return home, to not die, like they really had a clue what it was like. Because Reed might not be dead, but that didn't mean he wasn't dying; it was just slower and more agonising than being eliminated. 

He knew what he'd rather wish for. 

He fell to his knees by the onyx toilet, and he emptied the pit of his stomach into it, acid spilling over his lips and hanging from his mouth in strings of white and silver saliva. He groaned loudly, one arm flung out around the seat to steady himself, his balance lost behind his pounding head, succumbed to dizziness and almost immediate exhaustion.  After a few more minutes, when retching turned to dry heaving, he wiped his mouth with a tissue and pushed himself to his feet. 

He padded back along the landing across to his bedroom, pausing only briefly to catch his father's eyes on the landing, eyes so full of disappointment and disgust that Reed could barely look for longer than five minutes. He pushed back into his room and walked across to the window, so that he could look out over the rose garden and the field behind it, his eyes locked on the slim figure lying on the grass with her arms outstretched. A small, lazy smile spread across his lips, Veyandra. His sister. The one person he could talk to and just be himself around. He turned on his heels and headed out of the room. 

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Miri 

Miri couldn't feel her legs. She hadn't been able to feel her legs since she was three years old, since she'd hit her spine on some plastic bins at the bottom of a three-storey building. Not that she could remember any of it, she only knew what Silas shared with her, and that wasn't too much. She knew what Silas thought of everyone, what he thought of himself, that nothing was good enough, nothing, including him, was meant to exist. 

She also knew that right about now, while she was stuck in bed unable to go anywhere or do anything, he was sleeping with who knew how many women? 

Not because he particularly wanted to, or because he took enjoyment from it, but because he didn't respect himself enough to know not to. That was okay, Miri would respect him enough for both of them, she already did. It wasn't just the love a sister should have for her brother; it was the love that came from knowing he would always have her back no matter what. He wasn't just her brother; he was the only family member she had left, and he was her best friend. 

She reached down to her legs, rubbing her hands over them, not that she could feel her hands touching the skin of her legs, she sighed loudly and, slipping her hands under her knee, she gently lifted her leg and hoisted it over the edge of the bed, the same with her other. After ten years of doing this, she'd grown used to the effort required for such a simple task. She pulled her chair closer and slipped off the edge of the bed into it. 

She landed in her chair with a small thud, her hands instinctively shooting out to instantly grip the tyres. Silas had made this chair for her, from scrap metal he found lying around the Sector, running for his life after stealing tyres from makeshift swings, doing whatever he needed to do, to make life easier for Miri. Because he cared, maybe more than he'd like to admit. But Miri knew, she always knew. 

She wheeled herself out of her room and down across the landing to the pulley system, another thing that Silas had made, from rope and wood he'd found lying around. Silas might not have been good at a lot of things, but scavenging was one thing he could confidently do, and he could do it well. If he ever did end up in the Maze, then Miri could at least feel slightly better that he would be able to hold his own inside. Even if she'd played enough games with him to know that his main method of winning resulted in cheating. 

If he tried to cheat in the Maze, he'd be eliminated forever, quicker than he could lie his way out of it, and he was a fast liar, good at thinking on his toes. She parked her chair on the platform, pulled the rope of the pulley system, and listened to the whirring noise as it lowered to the ground floor. She wheeled herself over to the door and let herself out into the hot day. She was going to get to the post box before Silas did, because she had to know. If he found out first, he'd never tell her.

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Renn

She was alone in the pub. Kael had just got up to order another drink, and the last thing she'd seen was him leaving with his younger brother. Now she was sitting alone with her own fizzy peach drink; she didn't even want to drink alcohol. She'd only done it because he was, and now she was stuck with a drink she didn't even want, but a drink she had to finish because no one else would and because she'd spent money on it, she wasn't like Kael, she couldn't just throw money away like it was nothing. 

She could kill him, though. 

She tried to think about why he had randomly left and what possible reason he would have had. She tried to recall seeing the look on his face, had he looked worried? Scared? Mildly annoyed... The last one was a given; he always looked mildly annoyed. 

That was just Kael. 

She reached for her glass and downed the rest of her drink, trying not to mind that she hadn't even wanted it in the first place. She stared into the barrel of her empty glass for a minute or two, and then she pushed herself to her feet and headed out of the pub. She didn't take the glass back to the bar; that wasn't her job, she wasn't about to do something that she wouldn't be paid for. 

She left the pub, stepped out into the dark night street and headed home. It wasn't a very long walk, about twenty minutes at most, down the hill into the base of the valley. Her family was one of the very few to live at the bottom of the valley, since they didn't need the farm land like the others did, because her family worked in the apple orchard, picking apples from branches and carting them to the barn to ferment and turn into cider. They wouldn't need such a big house for that kind of job, so they lived in a small bungalow. Still... It could've been worse. Much worse. She knew that the people in various other Sectors had it harder. 

As if the lower the Sector, the more terrible the living arrangements. 

She made her way down the hill, watched the houses turn to cottages, to rundown bungalows all the way down, like a snake that got narrower and narrower toward the bottom. When she reached her pale blue bungalow, she could already see her mother sitting on the doorstep, washing clothes in hot, soapy water from a wooden bucket. She paused to watch briefly for a bit, hoping her mother wouldn't catch her just watching and not offering to help. When her mother did look up and see her, Renn offered a smile. 

"Hey, Mum." She said, walking toward the house, she stoppped at the post box, pulled it open and checked inside, smiling once she didn't see the envelope.  

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Guinee

Guinee had lost both her children, her son Joren was gone, maybe no Official had come along and told her that Joren was dead, but Guinee could feel it in that way that mother's could, as if a piece of her heart had broken and would never be fixed, no matter how tight she closed her eyes, how hard she wished.

Narissa was at risk of being lost as well. Not because she was in danger, Guinee knew her too well, even if Narissa had been picked for the Maze, she would survive. No Narissa would survive no matter what, but Guinee was a different story.

Because it was Guinee that was dying.

That was what happened when a heart broke too many times and no one put it together again.

You can't die from a broken heart. She could hear her father's voice in her head, he was always saying things like that. She could feel him beckoning her, the closer to death she got, the louder he spoke, you clueless, idiotic girl.

She glanced at the door, tried to shake the noise from her mind, he wouldn't reclaim her when she died, even if she had to run the whole of the afterlife, she would do anything to get away from him.

If she even could.

People claimed that when you died, you healed in the best way possible. She really hoped that was true, because like this, she was in no state to run at all. She was sitting on the carpeted floor of their tiny room, her spine pressed against the stand of the porcelain sink, her eyes battling to stay open, so she could see Narissa when the young girl returned from the boat yard.

I hope your boat is okay. She practised, or tried to, but the words that sounded so clearly in her brain, refused to fall from her lips. She opened her mouth, and pushed out the only word she could, "Narissa."

That was the best she could do, if she tried to push out more words, it'd end in blood dribbling down her chin, a painful cough stabbing her chest as it hacked its way out of her, like a saw carving upwards through her throat and over her lips. She couldn't do that, at least not until Narissa returned. Guinee wanted to at least say goodbye. If she could even push the word out without it being the last breath she ever took.

She stayed there for a moment, almost too scared to move in case her world collapsed in on itself before her daughter came home. She might not have been able to say goodbye to her son, but she would make sure she got to say goodbye to her daughter, no matter what.

She turned her head as the door opened and Narissa came in. She smiled and for the first time all day, she relaxed.