(Emmy's PoV)

I exhaled as I turned the computer screen on. It took longer than usual to log on since my extra fidgety hands were prone to typos. I guess it was good nerves though--well better than my normal nerves. Trixie had managed to find a handful of girls all connected to the 63rd platoon who were able to talk.

What are you doing this for? It's not like they will like you.

I signed into google hangouts to find an incoming call from Trixie. I answered it, revealing several other girls. Once synched in, Trixie smiled and did a little clap. "Yay! Emmy's here! Perfect. That's everyone who told me yes for today."

She's only faking her excitement.

Trixie led the whole thing since she was much better with people skills than I was. She introduced herself as Gavin's friend and then suggested we all do introductions, handing it off to me.

"Oh...uh," I stammered. "I'm Emmy. Well it's short for Emmaline, but that's just so long so I go by Emmy--but that's not important. Anyway, I'm Matteo's girlfriend." Saying his name made me miss him even more.

You stuttering freak.

The other girls were Audrey (Justin's friend), Kierra (Tristan's friend), Kierra's friend who was spending the night (her name was Sophie), Alisha (Logan's girlfriend), and one other who had yet to speak. She was a blonde girl about my size. "I'm Rose, I'm Will's twin sister."

Will was Matteo's best friend. It was only a week or so ago that I learned of his awful fate.

"Your brother's MIA," I blurted out. I quickly covered my mouth with my hands.

You ruin everything. Why do you ever talk?

"It's okay," she brushed it off. "I mean not the fact itself, but you telling me. It's not like I'm not aware of it."

Trixie tried to smooth over my speaking blunder by steering the conversation in a new direction. "I just wish letters traveled faster."

"Yeah," Alisha agreed. "If we're lucky, it takes two weeks to get there--and then you gotta add the reply and return time."

Kierra raised an eyebrow, "you guys must get some real sentimental letters cuz mine are always dripping with stupidity and sarcasm."

Sophie playfully pushed her. "Oh come on, you know you love getting letters from Tristan."

Audrey shrugged. "I don't hear from Justin very often. But he's a very serious person and likely focused on the battle."

"Well, do you ever write to him?" Trixie asked.

"Not often," Audrey mumbled.

"Well that's your problem," Trixie explained. "If you talk to him more, I guarantee he'll be falling for you."

Audrey's face turned bright red. "Who said anything about him falling for me?"

"I could send Gavin in to be your wingman," Trixie beamed. "He loves to help me out."

"I don't need your help," Audrey replied irritably. Hoping to spare her from more embarrassment, I attempted to change the subject.

"Can you believe how hard basic training was for them?"

Kierra snorted.

"What?"

"I think your source may have been a little biased," she replied. "It was definitely hardest on your boyfriend. From what I heard, 'the Spanish kid' was always getting himself into trouble; arguing with the Drill Sgt., constantly complaining, he even took on a kid nearly a foot taller than him and got beat up pretty badly from it."

My heart seemed to skip a beat and I gripped the sides of the chair to keep me from falling over. "Matteo got in a fight?" I said breathlessly.

He's in danger. Always in danger. He's going to die.

Kierra brought her eyes to the ground, "Shit, I figured you knew."

I tried to join in as the conversation progressed, but I couldn't stop thinking about Matteo. We were supposed to tell each other everything.

He kept it from you because he hates you. Everyone hates you.

"Emmaline," I heard my mom call from downstairs, "Get off the computer."

I flinched at the noise.

Rose's face looked concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, everything's fine," I stuttered. "I just have to leave--"

"Child, did you hear me?"

You're in for it now.

"--like now."

Trixie dismissed any confusion she had. "Oh, well just text me when the next best time to talk is for you--" I didn't even let her finish her sentence before logging out.

My mom walked downstairs, glaring at me.

"I'm done with the computer now," I told her.

"I didn't ask," she snarled.

"Right, mother."

"Get back in your room."

I raced upstairs to my bedroom and immediately found a pencil and paper.

I had to talk to Matteo about this fight. How badly was he hurt? Why did he do it?

Dear Matteo,

How could you not tell me you got in a fight? It happened a year ago and you've kept it a secret from me all this time. Why? I thought we were supposed to tell each other everything.

Hypocrite.

They were right. I hadn't been entirely honest with Matteo either. There was no way I could confront him about the fight unless I told him about National Kick a Ginger Day--which I most definitely could not do. I sighed as I crumpled up my letter and threw it in the trash.

Just think of all the other things he could be hiding from you?

(Tristan's PoV)

I was startled awake by the sound of a gunshot and screaming. I rubbed my eyes, still dazed and confused. "What's going on?"

Gavin tapped my arm. "Dude, Landon had guard duty tonight. You think he could be hurt?"

"Let's check," I said, already grabbing my gun. Several other guys followed us outside.

We examined the area, but couldn't find anyone, not even Landon--that is, until we looked down.

Landon was writhing on the ground, blood gushing out of his chest.

"He looks pale," Daniel observed nervously.

"It's Landon, he's always pale," Michael retorted.

It was hard to tell if Landon even knew what was going on. He could only give shallow breaths and broken screams.

"Someone get Holly," Sgt. Blake demanded, but scarcely after he said that we heard a terrified scream.

"Oh my god! Landon!"

(Holly's PoV)

He was just laying there, squirming around helplessly. Sgt. Blake yelled something about a group of guys to come with him to look for the perpetrators, but my head wouldn't stop spinning.

"Don't just stand there," I screamed at them. "Help him!"

Then I realized: that was my job. My stomach twisted into several knots.

I tried to pick Landon up, but I couldn't do much more than drag him. My eyes were stinging and I could feel my throat closing up.

Lt. Jason grabbed Landon's feet and helped carry him to the infirmary and set him on a bed. While checking for a pulse, I accidentally knocked his already askew glasses to the floor. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. But there was a faint pulse.

"It's okay, Holly, you're doing everything you can," Lt. Jason said before I screamed at him to get out.

What if what I was doing wasn't enough? I felt just as helpless as Landon, who was gradually losing consciousness.

I didn't actually know anything about being a nurse. I went through a six week training course after I enlisted. I looked over his near lifeless body. His survival was in my hands. My nervous, shaking hands--but still, I had to do something.

I racked through my brain trying to remember all I had learned about treating gunshot wounds.

The bullet. I needed to get the bullet.

I tore Landon's shirt and quickly washed my hands before digging my fingers into the bleeding wound. I moved them around, fishing for the bullet or even fragments. Eventually I felt something metal. Thankfully it still felt intact and I wrapped a couple fingers around it and pulled it out. I rinsed the bullet off to better examine it. It was silver and about one inch long and a half inch wide. Not too terribly big, though I couldn't identify it right away. I set it aside for a moment and began cleaning out Landon's wound. All I had was soap and water, but the basics would have to do. I tried to ignore the fact that my vision was getting blurry.

He wasn't wincing as I washed out the wound, which worried me. I checked his pulse again to find a soft heart beat.

After attempting to disinfect, I needed to stop the bleeding. I grabbed as much gauze as I could from the cupboard. Landon's body was limp as I lifted up his chest to wrap the gauze around him. I carefully set him down and began to apply more pressure to his wound. After about half an hour, the bleeding started to die down.

He was breathing slowly, but he was breathing. I propped his chest up with several pillows to elevate the wound. This last part was the hardest. All I could do was wait.

(Logan's PoV)

None of us could go back to sleep after what happened--not even Clayton. Sgt. Blake was still out searching for the people who shot him (we think it was guerrillas) with Conner, Christopher, Alan, Kent, and Felix. After a couple hours, Holly came out of her room.

Her face was red and blotchy and the entire front of her dress was soaked with blood. She sighed. "He's still unconscious, but he's in a more stable condition."

There was a pause for several moments before Tristan started batting his eyes and broke out into a sappy falsetto. "Oh Landon!"

I tried to suppress my laughter, and I was a little more successful than some of the other guys.

"What?" Holly asked, both confused and taken aback.

"Oh come on," Gavin began. "You were freaking out after you saw that he got shot."

"I was doing my job," Holly said defensively. "I have to--"

"Oh please," Tristan scoffed. "You can't honestly pretend that you would have reacted that much if it were any of us in his place."

"Shut up," Holly said through gritted teeth.

"She's in love," Gavin sing-songed.

"I told you to shut up," Holly's voice cracked as she shrieked.

Tristan gave a look of mock concern. "What's the matter? Afraid you lost your chance to profess your love to him?"

We laughed as she started to look around, but it died down as Holly struggled to speak. She wasn't arguing or yelling or threatening to kill us. Before she could start crying again, she ran back to her room.

Daniel pursed his lips awkwardly. "I think we took it too far."

"Yeah, I feel shitty about it," I agreed with a pit of guilt in my stomach.

"What?" Tristan said sheepishly. "We were just joking."

"Yeah," Gavin continued in a stammer. "We were just trying to lighten the mood. We're scared too. He's our friend." They looked at each other and exchanged pained glances. "I really didn't think she was gonna get that upset," he explained.

     Tristan shook his head and pursed his lips for a moment. "I thought yelling some creative insults at us might distract her." After a pause he added, "me too, honestly."

"Should we apologize?" Sean asked.

Tristan pulled him back. "No way, kid. You go in that room, you're not coming out."

Daniel shrugged. "I think you're right. We'd be apologizing for us, not her. It's Holly, she probably wants to be left alone."

(Will's PoV)

I carefully moved the dust on the floor with my finger. This landscape didn't look as neat as the ones I drew with pencil, but it would have to do.

Christian came over to me. "What's that supposed to be?" he asked.

"It's supposed to be a Guilin landscape before it got all war torn," I replied. "It's actually kind of pretty without all the bullets and barricades." I focused more on my artwork as Christian watched attentively. As I started to form the outer edge of a tree, we heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

"Finally, food." Parker pushed his way to the front.

However, instead of just throwing a loaf of bread in like normal, the guards actually came in the cell. They weren't holding bread either, but rather, buckets.

"All right," the first guard began. "Since we haven't heard any information in two weeks, the boss decided; no food today. He's being generous. I would have cut you off by day two."

No one dared to speak up.

"But don't worry," the second one crooned as he hoisted his bucket higher. "We're not unreasonable. You'll still have plenty of water." He poured the bucket out, most of its contents landing on me.

The water was boiling. I let out a scream, which prompted Christian to stand up.

"What was the point of that? He's--" But before he could finish, the second guard punched him in the jaw.

"Any other comments?" he questioned.

Dead silence.

"That's what I thought." The two of them locked the door after slamming it shut.

My skin was already starting to turn red where the water had hit it. Still clenching his jaw, Christian attempted to dry me off with the sleeve of his shirt. "I'm so sorry, you don't deserve this."

"You're one to talk," I snapped. "You're practically an angel, I'm the one who deserves this. This and more."

He leaned in closer. "Why would you say such a thing?"

The hot water seemed to release a flood of memories from within me. "I'm a horrible person," I tried to explain. "I know you think I'm nice, but honestly I probably tricked you into thinking that because I'm so awful. I deserve this. I deserve--"

"This war is not your fault--"

"No," I interrupted. "I'm talking about before the war."

"Will, people make mistakes."

"It was worse than a mistake."

"What are you talking about? What did you do?"

I paused for a moment. Afraid to reveal what I had done. Shame consumed me, but nevertheless, I proceeded to tell Christian about my worst memory--something I hadn't even told Matteo.

Back in third grade, Rose and I were walking home from school. It was a little over a mile, but we were too poor to afford the bus and our parents sure as hell weren't gonna pick us up.

"You're too slow," I complained.

"My legs are shorter," she retorted.

"No, it's cuz you always have to stop for water."

She made a face at me. "Shut up, you know I need to."

"Oh right, cuz you're diseased." I pointed out.

Her body went stiff. "Stop saying that."

"It's true though. That's why no one likes you." I snatched the water bottle out of her hands. "If you weren't so dependent on this, then you wouldn't be such a freak."

"Give that back," she yelled.

"Catch me," I dared, taking off.

Rose chased after me, but I maintained several feet of distance between us. She kept screaming my name, yelling, "I need that," but I refused to listen.

By the time we reached our front yard, she was panting and nearly falling over.

"Will...back..." she couldn't get her words right as she made frantic grabbing motions.

I held the bottle over my head, which she struggled to reach since I had several inches on her.

"Need," she gasped in pain. "I need..." and she collapsed on the grass.

My laughter immediately stopped and I brought myself to the ground. "Rose, Rose," I called as I shook her.

She didn't stir. Not even after I tried pouring the water on her. "Please wake up! I'm sorry!"

My mom stormed outside, with the whiskey bottle still in her hand. She squinted at the sunlight. "What's with all the noise?

"Rose just...just fell," I stuttered. My eyes were already brimming with tears. "I think I killed her."

My mom shoved me to the side to get a better look. "Are you stupid or something? She just fainted." She paused to look at me inquisitively. "But why?" Her eyes made their way from my quivering lips to the water bottle still in my hand.

I stammered nonsensically.

"You did it." I couldn't tell if her expression was rage or a smile. And I didn't know which one scared me more.

"I didn't mean to," I pleaded.

"Of course you did."

I ran inside to call 911.

At the hospital Rose had to get an IV. She lived, but she hated me for it. I didn't blame her--I hated myself for it too.

"Will," Christian said softly.

I shook my head. "Don't tell me you still pity me."

"I mean, sure, it was a shitty thing to do," he reasoned. "But you were like what, nine, at the time?"

"It doesn't make it okay," I retorted. "What I did was malicious."

Christian put his arm around me. I didn't deserve this kind of comfort. "You didn't know that was going to happen-"

"But it still did happen-"

"-hey, hey, and do you know how I can tell that you're still a good person?"

"How?" I mumbled.

"Because you feel guilty," he responded. "It shows you have empathy, a conscience."

I couldn't bring myself up to speak.

"Will," he continued. "You can't let one action dictate your entire view of yourself. You gotta forgive yourself, after all, I bet your sister already has."

I scoffed. "She's not one for the whole letting go of things."

"You'd be surprised. She probably knows you didn't mean for all of that to happen. And honestly, she's probably had other shit to worry about other than your 'malice'."

"I don't know where you're getting that idea from 'cuz she's barely talked to me in the past seven years."

"Well, have you tried talking to her?" he asked.

I looked down. "No."

"That might be part of the problem," he stated, giving me a half smile. "I hate to see this guilt tearing away at you. You gotta promise me something."

"What?"

"If we ever get out of here, you're gonna try to contact her."

"But-" I tried to protest, but he just held me tighter.

"It doesn't need to work. Just try, okay? Promise?"

I sighed. If I couldn't do it for me or Rose, I would have to do it for him. "I promise."