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Word Count: 1819

~Kezziah

I'm sucked into a distant memory without my permission.

Two years ago.

It's a foggy night tonight, which isn't very common in the Vengeance Pack. The mist is draped across the road, lacing around trees boughs and street lamps. With every step I make down the asphalt, it twists around my ankles before creeping away like rampant small creatures, slipping through gutters and fluttering around loose leaves.

I need to stop sneaking out at night, especially with winter encroaching. There is nowhere for me to be, and no one for me to see.

The cold seeps threateningly through my knitted sweater. It hasn't been this icy in a long while. It's fascinating, if I ignore the crawl of unease across my skin. I was planning on spending the night wrapped up in thick woolen blankets reading the buttery yellow pages of a lamp lit book.

I took one glance out the window while I drew my blinds closed, and knew I had to experience this odd phenomenon.

My fingers brush across the tendrils of mist, watching it curl and bend into perplexing patterns. I should head back, the night almost seems whisper, the breeze hustling past my beanie covered ears.

The soles of my feet become suddenly frigid to the ground.

The mist seems to gather up the road, in the distance, yet not so far. My eyes meet it, then raise, catching on to a figure. It's simply a shadow, despite its position bathing under the street light.

My blood runs cold, my bones stiffen and fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The enigmatic figure does not move, simply remaining like a distant memory I cannot decipher. With only looking at it, something tells me to turn and run.

But I can't.

I inhale deeply, steadying myself as quickly as the mist had vanished by that next morning.

All eyes are on me. Jade eyes, blue and brown. Their accounts of meeting Time, truthful or not, are not difficult for them to recall. With my hesitation, I can already tell they are confused, or curious or simply weirded out.

"I don't really feel that comfortable talking about it, right now," I tell them. And by right now, I mean never.

Etta blinks blankly at me, her mouth opening like she was going to say something. Amilia, however, snaps a harsh glare at her, making the girl decide against speaking. I'm grateful. Jade eyes me suspiciously, though, clearly not accepting my uncomfortable excuse very believable.

"That's okay," Amilia says, although her tone is wary. "Everyone has a different experience."

By her saying that, I realise she isn't going to tell me her story. None of them will. Me deciding to keep that from them isn't the best beginning to this strange friendship, but I'm not about to tell them. Not when guards stand near, camera's trained on this table, ready to report back to Alden what I recalled.

Before I can make some wild excuse they most likely won't believe, an abrupt, stomach wrenching sound comes from the table next to us.

"Layla, are you okay?" a girl with the finest ginger hair I've ever seen, who I noticed was no good at hiding her eavesdropping skills earlier, asks her friend, who sits in front of her.

She's a petite blonde, hunched over her lunch.

We all watch curiously, as she coughs violently. She holds her stomach with shaky fingers, cringing against pain none of us are experiencing. And then she suddenly vomits, a pool of blood splattering across the table. A few girls scream, the ginger stumbling up and away from the table.

I turn my head, mortified, while I attempt to keep my dinner down.

As I do so, I notice the jade eyed girl getting up, briskly pushing herself away from the situation. Weak stomach, or immense fear? I can't tell.

Guards brush through the crowd, but not in time, as I watch the poor girl covered in her own blood, fall backward, her head hitting the ground with a sickening crack. She's quickly pulled into a guard's arms, and hustled out of the room.

There's a moment of silence, as everyone is left not knowing what to do. Me included. It takes a few moments for chatter to return, but it's hushed, everyone gossiping and conspiring about what just happened. I feel sick, and not because of what I witnessed, although that was terrifying. I feel sick because I don't know why that happened.

"Don't worry. She will be okay," Amilia says, more to Etta than me, although she doesn't seem certain. Something tells me the Love Pack member next to me is a fragile girl.

"I'm worried about Melena," Etta says.

Amilia sighs, casting her gaze at the jade eyed girl – Melena – who is arguing with guards by the door, clearly trying to get out of here. "She will be fine. She's new, remember. She isn't handling this very well."

Perhaps her and I arrived here around the same time. Her brand looks fresh, while the brand on Etta's hand is slightly faded.

"We apologise about Melena not being so friendly," Amilia tells me, looking back at the girl, anxious she might come over and hear what she has to say about her. "She's bitter. Time branded her face, and no one else has a similar one. She told me he ruined her looks. I think she is still very beautiful."

True. If that brand wasn't there, many would be attracted to her based upon looks alone.

Guards came to collect me at some point, and the whole dining room dispersed. I was the only one whose arms were grabbed and was lead out the room. Everyone stared, but no one said anything.

Back in my room, I observed my brand in the mirror.

It's blistered and inflamed. Gruesome reds and oranges melt into the black pattern, as it seeps clear liquid profusely. I rinse as much as I can from the tap, which I was allowed access to all of a sudden, and lay down on my bed. There's no point staying up and thinking about what happened today.

The medicine did that to her? Is she dead? Stop.

No one bothered me that evening. Sleep graced me earlier, however, I was woken abruptly by men charging into my room, pulling me out of bed. Immediately I knew what was going on. I still protested. I don't want to see Cian right now.

His office was gloriously warm when we entered, a fire crackling and spitting behind him. His skin is warm and glowing, the roots of his hair like molten gold, his smile feline.

"Looking good, Kezziah," he purrs.

My lip curls in disgust. I hate this immortal, his ulterior motives hidden beneath a veil of charm and seduction. His attraction won't work on me, not when I know he bought me, and are allowing people to bed on my life span.

"What do you want?" I growl. Did he really have to wake me like this? I thought we had spoken about everything we needed to. I still had a myriad of questions, but who knows how honestly he would answer them.

"Take a seat, darling," he says, motioning to a seat in front of his desk. "We have some things to talk about."

My eyes narrow on him, but I oblige, sinking into the blush seat.

He circles around the desk, walking over to me. His delicate fingers touch my hair, my shoulders and the back of my neck. I hiss in protest, but he doesn't retract his touch. I'm worried his hands are going to snake around and strangle me, stealing all the breath from my lungs.

"You're seeming healthy, although it is early days. I just want to cover some ground with you today. Make you a little less ignorant," Cian exclaims, sitting back down in front of me.

I frown, confused. "Are you going to answer my questions?"

He nods slowly, still smiling at me. The way he does it makes it seem as though he is hiding something from me, tricking me.

"Why do this?" I ask him. "Why use us like this?"

"For fun. Because a lot of us betters are wealthy and have too much time on our hands to be sadistic and cruel," he tells me, to which I believe completely. He taps his pen rhythmically on his desk. "We have you here, removing your brands, and I thought one day, why not make a game out of it?"

My jaw clenches. "You truly are greed, aren't you?"

"Oh absolutely," he says with a flashing smile. "I created this. Time is a great friend of mine, but I'm more for helping myself. All of Alden's guards took a small amount of convincing, with some magic involved. And within the conceal of night, I work this operation. And let me tell you, it works wonderfully."

"User. You're a user," is all I can manage to say.

"And I'm successful," he says, propping his feet up on the desk. I want to push them off. Then hit him, straight in the nose. "I'll do anything to win, even if it means getting rid of the better's favourite."

I stare blankly at him, before it suddenly dawns in my mind. The girl, Layla. Today...In the cafeteria. He killed her.

"She was an innocent girl, you pig!" I yell at him, flying out of my seat. "She didn't deserve that. How could you?"

Cian has the audacity to roll his eyes. "Calm down, would you? She wasn't meant to die, it was simply the knock of her head that did it. Nasty, really. However, she is forever off the betting table, and won't compete against you anymore. You should be happy."

"Happy?" I sputter. "Are you insane?"

His expression suddenly darkened, and the shadow of flames licking up the wall seems sinister. He leans forward across the desk, staring me down.

"You need to stick close to me, Kezziah. I'm your only hope of survival here," he breathes. "Alden doesn't care about you. He won't save you. You need me."

I swallow uncomfortably, because as much as I hate this, I know it's true.

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