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A dark hole opens at my feet. It crawls up my legs, swallowing me whole and dragging me down into the abyss. The darkness blinds me of my senses.
All I hear are screams—screams of pain, doubt and fear.
My throat constricts as I see warm, slick, crimson liquid painting my hands, mixing with my tears as I try to apply pressure to the gushing wound.
Why does it hurt so much?
It’s not even me getting hurt.
Suddenly, a soft glow washes over me and a hand reaches out—calm, peaceful, loving—breaking me out of my nightmare.
Abruptly, I wake up. I’m quivering while basking in the gentle shine of the moon.
I’m disgusting, and I don’t need a mirror to see it. Sweat, tears, dirt—they cling to me like a second skin. They coat me, sealing over my skin, a second layer that doesn’t belong to me. It tightens when I breathe, shifts when I move, like it’s learning me—like it’s taking my place.
Panic prickles under it—trapped.
I stagger up and plunge my head into a puddle. The water is bitter and cold, just like reality. For a moment, I feel something break through.
I force myself to think. Control. Like on the netball court—read the play, stay sharp.
Win.
Survive.
It must have been close to noon when Ellie woke up, and I can’t blame her. She’s had it rough, harder than most of us—blowing up people does that. Her face is sullen and dappled with blood. Dark circles shadow her eyes, her hair flying in every direction possible.
“Whoa,” I joke from the river, where I’m currently trying to wash my hair, “Who are you, and what have you done to my friend?” She deadpans at me.
Yeah, she’s still tired.
I start again. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Good.”
“Hungry?”
“Yes, a bit.”
I hastily jump from the river onto the sturdy dirt to make her some breakfast. She should’ve woken up earlier, when the eggs were still warm. I really hope she likes cold eggs.
“I’m not surprised. You haven’t had anything since teatime the day before yesterday.”
“Oh, I haven’t?”
“Come on, I’ll fix you something. You like eggs?” She nods, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
We make small talk as I watch her eat. Halfway through, she pulls me aside to a quiet spot by the river. I frown.
What a waste of food.
“Robyn,” she starts, “Are you okay? You know you can tell me anything, right?”
I almost laugh. She sounds like one of the school's counsellors.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Don’t worry about it.”
She keeps looking at me like she doesn’t believe a word.
“My stuff doesn’t matter,” I add. “Not right now.”
There’s a war going on. People are dying. That’s what matters.
I walk off before she can push it any further.
By afternoon, the stifling air of Hell presses on me, driving me to pace restlessly around the campsite. The silence feels wrong—too still, too quiet.
Then the sky splits in a roar.
A fighter jet screams over head, a dark blur against the blazing light. My ears ring. I blink—and the world shifts into something unrecognisable. The air curdles in laughter, wrong and jagged, echoing everywhere. I turn, but there’s no one there.
The walls bleed—thick crimson crawling downwards, pulsing.
I know that blood.
My stomach twists.
Me.
I was the one that hurt Lee.
I did it.
It’s all my fault—
I can’t breathe. My legs give out, and I’m suddenly falling into the river.
It’s a deep river. The cold hits me like a physical blow—a slap that steals the air from my lungs. There’s no warning, no love, no kindness—just hate, then freezing water closing over me.
The surface fractures into shades of murky green.
Ellie would hate to see me like this; it would destroy the polished, capable version of me she still believes in.
A hand breaks the water, trailing a soft, misplaced glow. It doesn't belong down here in the dark; it belongs somewhere higher, somewhere better. For a heartbeat, I feel the pull to reach back—but then, it’s gone.
Real hands seize my collar and haul me upward.
Air crashes back into my lungs.
“Robyn!”
Ellie.
Why did you pull me out? Why didn’t you leave me in there?
Her voice is breaking, and she’s crying—really crying—as she grips me like I might disappear.
“Why?” She chokes. “Why did you jump in?”
My face pales and suddenly, the councillors’ advice is working. I’m taking big gulps of air to calm my nerves.
She can’t see me like this.
“Robyn, tell me what’s going on!” Ellie pleads, looking insanely guilty. I swallow and sit on the creek bed, motioning for Ellie to sit down next to me.
“Sit down, Ellie. I need to tell you something, just…keep it out of the book, alright?”