"Run!" I scream as the water came rushing after us, like a predator pouncing on its prey. I didn't dare look back and sprinted in the opposite direction. The hallway, lit by torch lights, sank into darkness as the wave wiped all the light away. My feet started burning and the water rushed faster after me, or at least that was what my brain told me, increasing the fear inside me until I almost gave up the space of hope inside me too. In the distance, another corridor on my right appeared and I slid into it. The water, because of its incredible speed, didn't manage to take the same turn. The little that did get there lay near my feet and I could only stare at it as I waited for the tide to pass.

I had no idea who other than me made it out and where they were. Trying to save yourself really made you forget about everything and everyone else. It was selfish but I wasn't scared to admit it. I just wished I could. I wished it was the same for me. I mean if it was I wouldn't have been in that mess right then. I just wished I could have kept myself out of something for once and not have tried to be something I knew was overrated. A hero.

The sound of water crashed down and the hallway beside me went empty and dark. I couldn't see but still had to make sure the water was gone so I put a hand out but luckily felt only the touch of air.

I cautiously stepped out again. I knew I should have been trying to get the hell out of there but off course, being me, I couldn't do that without making sure I wasn't the only one who walked out alive. I'd rather die fighting for one more life.

Stupid? I know.

My brain and I were in continuous contradiction and argument over my worth of my life. My brain, being my brain, told me to take the chance and live another day. My heart, being my heart, was telling me to stay and make sure another person lived another day and nobody lost a brother, husband or son. At least on my watch, but I knew that neither life nor I were that perfect. Perfect was overrated. Seemed like everything good was.

The place echoed of my uneven breathing. Despite the fact that it wasn't cold, the hairs on my skin stood straight. I took another step, thinking of a way to obtain a source of illumination, partly because I needed one and partly because if I wasn't thinking about that, my thoughts would wonder off to a much darker place. I had enough darkness at the moment, I didn't need more nor did I think I could take more.

A surprised scream escaped my throat when a cold hand wrapped around my arm. I whipped towards the intruder and yanked my hand away.

"Who is this?" My voice came out scared and small, not demanding at all. When no answer came, I started retreating in the other direction. I hadn't gone far when my feet tripped over something soft and I fell. I landed on something that wasn't the cement floor and my hands explored the thing. The minute I touched it, I knew two things. I knew it was human, and I knew it was dead.


*Six hours ago*

This time luck had really given me a helping hand. I hadn't slept for more than two hours and knew exactly what I had to do once I was up.

Roger was still nowhere to be found. Nor was his group that Ash, Sam, Lucas and Emma were a part of.

I raised my head again, intensely looking at the entrance to Fiona's tent, hoping that that way whoever was in there would come out sooner and I would finally get to have that overdue conversation with her.

It somehow worked, and a guy wearing all black gear, like our kind mostly did when fighting, walked out of the tent and stomped into the compound of other smaller tents. He didn't look happy but then it could've just been just the way he always looked. Who knows, it wasn't like I was paying him much attention.

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