I heard someone shout my name when I dashed out of the lobby room. But, I didn't look back. I didn't bother to try and recognize the voice either. What did it matter? What would it change?

Another one of us died.

Darius Haldis put everything on the line and failed. Everything he dreamed about, everything he wanted to accomplish, all of it came to a fiery end. Even though I knew he was dead, his screams and theirs continued to echo in my head endlessly.

The comfort of my room wasn't enough to quell the agonizing screams. I tried several methods to silence them. Nothing worked. All I could do was sit in my bed and wait. How long did I sit in the darkness? Thirty minutes? An hour? Three hours? I had no clue. I kept my eyes closed the entire time. I had to focus on shouting out the racket.

Was I going mad? They were dead. Long dead. But, I could still hear them.

No one else could. The others couldn't handle the volume of the screams, the weight of the guilt that I felt. It was my punishment. No matter how tormenting or agonizing, I'd accept it. It was my curse to bear.

It wasn't the first time I suffered, and it wouldn't be the last. Like the previous times, I'd pull through; I'd manage. I'd survive and continue to live through my life with all the choices I made, consequences and all like everyone else in the world.

Despite my closed eyes, the gruesome and vivid images of all their corpses remained in my mind. Every grotesque and horrid detail hoisted up as if put on a pedestal. My brain wouldn't allow me to forget what happened. Everything I've done, all the lives I've ruined in some shape or form.

The newest addition to that gallery; Darius Haldis. The poor kid didn't have to die. He was so young and full of potential. Sure, he wasn't the smartest or the bravest, or even the most useful. However, that didn't mean that his life didn't have meaning.

Maybe, just maybe if I had accepted his offer to talk to him, his death could've been avoided. Perhaps my refusal to speak with him was the final nail that sealed his coffin. Because I joined the others in isolating the kid; he concluded that he didn't deserve to live. Was that his thought process?

There was no way of knowing anymore. Dead men don't talk. His final thoughts would stay with him forever. In heaven, hell, or oblivion. It didn't matter.

How much longer would I stay trapped inside the hell that was Serendipity and my mind? The deadline drew nearer as the days passed. And with one less player in the games, perhaps my chances of escape increased?

In a moment of weakness, I allowed a scoff to leak from my mouth. Did I unconsciously revel in the fact that there was one less person? With Darius' death, there were only seven players left. In less than two weeks, five people died in Serendipity.

If things continued to proceed as they were, I wondered if I'd end up like them. Would I get careless and wind up dead? If I died, only one person would miss me. I didn't mind that fact.

However, I couldn't stand the fact that if I were to die, then that one person would have no idea what happened to me. Why I suddenly disappeared without a trace. No letter, no phone call, nothing. I couldn't do that to the old man. After all, he'd done for me in my life; I wouldn't cause him any more trouble. No matter what, I'd push through the adversity and survive through the hellish games and trials.

Just when my confidence returned, my eyes snapped open when the doorbell chime to my room rang. As if a work of magic, the screams and horrible images in my head vanished. For once, my room was devoid of sound. I took a moment to enjoy the silence, however short-lived it was.

The constant rings from the doorbell ruined my moment of bliss. I got up from my bed and opened the door to stop the cursed bell. The person on the other side was Henrika. As usual, she barged her way into the room and made herself comfortable.

When I closed the door and took a seat in a nearby chair, she started the conversation, "What the hell was that all about back there, Ambrose?"

A fair question to ask. When I thought back to that dreadful moment, I recalled my uncharacteristic behavior. No one in Serendipity ever saw me act that way before. And with good reason, I'd always try and make it a point to keep myself in check. Often at times, I'd succeed. But there were times when I failed.

"It's none of your business," I immediately tried to shut down the conversation. Henrika attempted to steer the discussion in a direction I had no plans of going down. Reopening old wounds wasn't something I'd prefer to do.

"I'm making it my business," Henrika declared, her voice thundered with authority, "never seen you raise your voice like that before. And you ran out of the room before anyone could stop you."

"I haven't broken any rules, have I?" I questioned her, "no rule says I have to stay after a game's over."

Henrika nodded in confirmation. She couldn't refute that fact. "True. But, this is the only time you've rushed out like that. I want to know why. Out of the other deaths you've witnessed, what made Darius' so hard for you?"

"You saw it, didn't you? Bastard got himself burnt to a crisp," I half-heartedly replied, "if you can sit there and watch someone get burned to death, then you must have a stronger stomach than me."

"Probably. But, there's more to it. I could tell from your body language."

"The fuck were you doing watching me?"

"You were acting strangely. This is the first time someone's death got that kind of reaction out of you," Henrika pointed out. She wasn't wrong. "I assume it had something to do with the fire?"

I resisted the urge to clutch my chest when a lurching sensation reached it. Henrika was quite perceptive when she wanted to be. I wish she spent more time using that skill of hers on other people rather than me.

She hit the nail right on the head. Hopefully, I didn't show that fact on my face.

"I only ask because I noticed you freak out a bit when you burned your shoulder during your game with Elena." Henrika pointed to my shoulder.

"Wouldn't anyone get freaked out when getting burned?" I moved my hand to my burned shoulder out of reflex.

"Maybe. However, you were more than freaked out. You were terrified. You're afraid of fire, aren't you?"

I got out from my seat and pointed to the door at that moment, "Get out," I demanded. That woman overstepped her boundaries. She had no right looking into me like that and asking ridiculous questions.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Henrika stood from the bed but made no attempts to leave my room. "There's nothing wrong with having fears, Ambrose. Everyone has some."

"You think I don't know that?" I countered.

"There's more to your fear than just fire, right? If you want to talk about it, I'm all ears." Henrika offered, her soothing tone and generous gesture reminded me of my mother.

"I don't want to talk about it. Get out of my room and let me get some sleep." I ordered.

"You want to shut me out, that's fine. But, it's not going to help you, Ambrose. If something's eating away at you, then you need to talk to someone." Henrika walked over to me and set her hands of comfort on my shoulders. "You need to trust me on this just as much as I trust you."

I removed her hands from my shoulders and backed away from her. Henrika relied far too much on that word. Trust. Something that could easily through the easiest of conditions. I wondered how much of her trust I'd lose if I did as she suggested and talked to her.

If I told her everything, would she be able to look me in the eyes and continue to talk to me as if we're comrades? Because as much as she claimed to trust me, I didn't believe it. And I doubted she trusted me all that much, considering the situation of our alliance.

We promised to work and trust each other, however, she didn't want to reveal the third person in our alliance. A team that kept secrets from each other wasn't a team at all.

"Have you gotten worse at lying?" I called her out.

"What?" Henrika blinked in surprise as if she had no idea what I went on about.

"You claim you trust me, but that's far from the truth. You won't tell me who's the third person in our alliance," I pointed out, "how can you lie to me right in my face like that? Oh, that's right, your father was a politician. That's your excuse, right?"

"An alliance is about give and take. Why would I tell you when you won't even tell me why you're here or the reason for your outburst back there?" She countered.

"My outburst has nothing to do with the alliance or you for that matter. Stay out of my business!"

"I have to make it my business! Because if we're going to work together, I need to know I can count on you when the time comes!"

"Time comes for what?!"

"I don't know!" She proclaimed. "I don't know what we can expect to face while we're here anymore! But, whatever it is, I want us to work together and survive! That's my goal! And it should be yours too!"

"It is! I want to get out of here just as much as you do! There's someone I need to see again no matter what!"

The heat of the argument subsided. Henrika stepped back and suddenly smiled at me. "There we go. That's the first time you truly opened up about yourself."

That bitch.

She used the argument to goad me into talking. I got careless and let my guard down around her. Henrika was a dangerous woman, regardless if she was an ally or enemy.

I slapped my hand over my face and sighed. "God damn it."

"Come on, Ambrose. You're off to a good start," Henrika's soothing and nurturing tone returned as she sat back down on the bed. She patted the area beside her. "Sit next to me. Let's talk."

My body moved on its own. I found myself obeying her commands. I crossed the room and sat down next to her with my hands on my knees.

"This is stupid," I complained.

"No, it's not. Now, you said there was someone you needed to see again. Who is it?" She asked.

"My old man," I reluctantly answered.

"Your father?"

"No. But, I wish he was. The old man's been more of a father to me than that sack of shit ever was," I corrected her, "hope he's burning in hell right now..."

While the thought of my father burning in hell brought a sense of joy back into me, it also brought back the scorching sensation of that time. My back, legs, and shoulder ached at that moment. I hunched over and clutched my shoulder.

"You okay?!" Henrika held on and stopped me from falling over.

"I'm fine," I assured her, although she didn't look convinced when I noticed the troubled look on her face, "the thought just brought back some bad memories."

"What kind?"

"You sure you want to hear this?" I answered the question with one of my own. My story wasn't one that I often told people, especially strangers. Henrika didn't even take a second to consider my warning. She nodded her head without hesitation, more than prepared to hear my story. "I'm here because the IRS is looking to audit the old man's bar. We shed our blood, sweat, and tears to get that place to ourselves. It's our home."

"A bar?" Henrika inquired. "You're willing to risk your life over a bar?"

Initially, I interpreted those words of hers as ridicule. However, when I remembered her circumstances, I realized that it wasn't. We all had different reasons for why we did what we did. It brought me small joy that she didn't laugh at me.

"The old man and I didn't have the easiest of lives. That bar acted as our sanctuary. A place where we could go without having to worry about our past troubles. For once, I looked forward to the future."

"And now?"

"I'm uneasy, but I'm still looking forward to it. As I said, I don't intend to die here. I'm going to survive, get my prize money, and save the bar no matter what. Even if the old man refuses to fight, I will."

"He doesn't want you to save the bar?"

"No. He wants them to take it. Says that place is keeping me shackled."

"If you think of him as a father, then shouldn't you listen to him?"

"I'm a grown ass man. I don't need to follow every word he says. I'm more than capable of making my own decisions."

Henrika nodded her head and glanced around the room. "And what do you think of the decisions you've made thus far?"

I scratched the back of my head and sighed. That was a difficult question to answer, but, I gave it my best shot. "Of course, I regret a few choices I've made. But, I can't turn back time. I'll have to live with everything I've done and hope for the best."

"That's fair," Henrika nodded, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but what do you have against your real father? I sensed a lot of hatred when you mentioned him."

At that moment, I saw a smile etch onto the woman's face. But, it wasn't any general expression she often made. No. It was one that made a chill run down my spine. It was the same, sinister smile she made when she mentioned how much she wanted her father to suffer.

That woman was a sadist.

"He was a fucking dirtbag," I announced, "cancer to my mother and little sister, Trish."

"You shouted her name back in the infirmary," Henrika remembered.

I nodded my head. "Yeah. He wasn't physically abusive or anything. But, he didn't do anything in the house, except sit on his ass all day drinking beer, watching television, and blowing away all my mother's hard earned money on gambling. It never made sense to me why my mother worked so hard and enabled that fucker's habits."

"Did you ever ask her why?" Henrika wondered.

"I did. Once. My mom said that she loved him and that he was going through a rough patch. I was just a kid at the time, so, I believed her and hoped for the best."

"Did the best come?"

"No. So, I tried to make it happen," I tightened my grip on my knees, knowing that I was about to wander into dangerous territory. I took several deep breaths. Those horrid moments flashed through my mind as I recalled them to Henrika, "one day when I spotted my father passed out on the coach again, I decided to put an end to everything. I took one of his cigarettes and set the house on fire."

"You killed your father?" Henrika's body trembled. At first, I believed it was out of shock and horror. But, when I took a second look at her, I figured it was excitement.

"It wasn't the fire that did it. My father escaped without a scratch," I shook my head. I nearly got choked up as I resisted the urge to cry in front of her again. "But, my mother and sister weren't so lucky. I didn't know they were in the house. So, I ran back inside to save them. We nearly escaped, but a support beam fell on us."

"Oh my God," Henrika gasped.

"I don't remember how long it was, but I still remember their screams, their painful cries as we burned. Eventually, firefighters got us out of the house. But, I was the only one that survived. So, I was left with my father, the man I wanted dead in the first place."

"That couldn't have been easy for you,"

I stood up and quickly paced back and forth in the room. That woman had no idea how difficult it was with that man. He was nothing but garbage. If anyone deserved to die in that house fire, it should've been him. If not just him, then me too. As long as my mother and sister were safe, I would've been okay with that outcome. Just as long as my father was out of the equation.

"It only got worse. While I was recovering in the hospital, my father told me he knew I started the fire. He threatened to turn me over to the police if I didn't listen to him,"

"What did he want you to do?"

"Help him run a scam," I revealed, "he started a fundraiser campaign in honor of his family. He played the grieving father and gathered hundreds of thousands of dollars in support, using me as the figurehead. When he got enough, he ran off with the money and left me to deal with the backlash."

"That motherfucker!" Henrika exclaimed. It was good to see how invested she was in my past.

"Since the money stopped coming in, I was eventually kicked out of the hospital. Thankfully, I made friends with the old man who was also admitted into the hospital at the time. He took pity on me and decided to give me a place to stay until I could get back on my feet."

"That's very nice of him."

"I took advantage of his goodwill and used that opportunity to hunt down my father. Took me three years, but I eventually did. Found him drunk off his ass under a highway bridge. I didn't even bother trying to talk to him," I pointed at Henrika and raised my thumb as if I had a gun on her. "I shot him to death. Sixteen times. Eight in his stomach, and another eight in his face."

"Jesus Christ," Henrika placed her hand over her mouth.

"Almost ended my life at that moment, but, the old man stopped me. He talked me down and helped me stay out of jail by lying to the police. After everything I've done, he's stuck by my side," I turned my back to Henrika. I couldn't stop the tears from flowing down my face. "I killed my entire family, took advantage and relied on the goodwill of a man that knew nothing about me, and now I'm causing him more trouble by being here. Oh god, what the hell am I doing?!"

I kicked the chair across the room. It broke into pieces when it contacted the wall.

Henrika hugged me from behind and rested her chin on my shoulder. "You're letting your walls down. You've always been so guarded."

"How can you keep talking to me like that? I'm a murderer, Henrika."

"I killed my father too, Ambrose. We're both murderers," She proclaimed.

"Your father died in a prison riot. I literally ended my father's life."

"I sent him to prison. So, figuratively I killed him."

"Don't try and compare me to you. Our situations are entirely different,"

It was strange, but I fought off the urge to laugh thanks to our banter. It was a little funny, fighting over which one of us were actually murderers.

"That's true, but, you can't ignore the similarities. I won't judge you on your past, because it's just that, Ambrose, the past. You're completely different from how you were back then," Henrika assured me.

"I don't think so."

"I know so. From the beginning, you said that this game was about survival, not murder. You've kept your word about that. You've had chances to kill others, but you didn't." Henrika pointed out.

"I--"

The chime of the doorbell interrupted me. Henrika released me from her hold and approached the door. She opened it immediately and allowed someone to come in without my permission. My eyes widened when the person turned out to be Klara.

Klara and Henrika stood together, side by side.

"Klara? Why are you--"

"She's here to help, Ambrose," Henrika set her hand on Klara's shoulder and flashed me a bright smile.

"Now, the only question remains is if you are," For once throughout my entire time in Serendipity, I heard Klara speak. Her sharp gaze focused on me as she adjusted her glasses.