Jake drifted into unconsciousness, the exhaustion of the past trials weighing down on him like a suffocating blanket. The cold, hard floor beneath him did little to comfort his aching body, but sleep pulled him under before he could resist.
He was small again, no older than seven. Rain hammered against the thin roof of their apartment, and he could hear the muffled sound of his parents fighting in the other room, his mother's muffled sobs. It wasn't the first time, but this time, it felt different. More final.
He had seen it happen — One day, on his way home, he saw his father on the neighbor's window — Ms. Selene, his math tutor. His father was standing too close to her, whispering things Jake couldn't hear but somehow understood. The way the woman laughed, the way his father's hand rested too easily on her waist. Jake hadn't said anything. He didn't know how.
But his mother had found out anyway. And after that, the fights never stopped.
Then one night, his father never came home.
For days, Jake watched his mother stare at the door as if willing it to open. It never did.
"Where's Dad?" he had asked once, standing in the dimly lit kitchen, his voice small, uncertain.
His mother had stared at him with hollow eyes, her fingers gripping a half-empty bottle. "Gone."
"When is he coming back?" he pressed, his small voice laced with hope.
"I don't know," she muttered, her tone hollow. "Maybe never."
That night, his mother hadn't come out of her room. The next morning, the silence was unnatural, heavy. He had called out to her, knocking on the door with hesitant hands.
No answer.
The dread in his gut churned as he pushed the door open, his small fingers trembling around the handle.
She was lying on the bed, still, too still. The bottle she had clutched the night before was tipped over on the bedside table, its contents soaking into the cheap wood. Pills scattered everywhere. He had shaken her, whispered her name, then screamed it. But… she never woke up.
He didn't know what to do, or who to call. He had no one else.
The neighbors found him hours later, when one of his classmate knocked on their door and no one answered. The house next door thought that this was odd. They screamed and screamed but no one answered. So, they called the police, and when they showed up, they found Jake curled up by the bed, his tiny hands clutching hers, as if holding on would somehow bring her back.
Little Jake was too young to understand how life could change so suddenly, how one night could take everything away from him.
Jake jolted awake with a sharp inhale, his fingers gripping the blanket like a lifeline. His heart pounded against his ribs, sweat slicking his skin. The room was silent except for the quiet breathing of the others.
"Jake." A firm hand shook his shoulder, grounding him back to reality. It was Zack, his expression tight with urgency. "I was going to wake you, but good thing you already are," He paused. "Arya checked the timer, and we only have an hour and thirty minutes before the next trial," He exhaled sharply.
Jake didn't answer, still hung up on what he had dreamt off. He stared absentmindedly. "Hey, you okay?" Zack asked, brows furrowed, looked concern.
"Yeah, I — uhm — I just had a bad dream. That's all," Jake laughed awkwardly.
Zack nodded, he is sensing that something is bothering Jake but he figured if he doesn't want to tell him, then, he is not going to force him. The only thing he could offer him right now is his presence.
"That's rough, if you want to talk, I'm all ears," Zack said, then he tapped Jake's shoulder as if comforting him, then stood up. "You want anything?" he asked.
"No, I'm good. Thanks," Jake said, rubbing his temples.
"Ok, I'll be back," Zack said then walked away.
Jake exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair as he sat up. The others were already stirring, stretching out stiff limbs and rubbing sleep from their eyes. The tension in the air was thick —everyone knew what was coming.
Ellie broke the silence. "We should eat while we still can. Who knows when we'll get another chance?"
No one argued. They moved through the motions with efficiency, passing around whatever rations they had left. The taste of dry protein bars and bottled water was a poor comfort, but it was something.
Nicole's gaze flickered toward Jake. "You looked like you were having a bad dream."
Jake hesitated before shaking his head. "It's nothing."
As they ate, the tension didn't fade. If anything, it only grew heavier. Each of them knew what the system was capable of now. The way it manipulated them, twisted their fears into weapons.
And then, without warning, their status screens flickered to life in front of them.
Mark cursed under his breath. "Guess that's our signal."
Arya's eyes scanned the information on her screen, her brows furrowing. "There's no description of what's coming. No objective. Just the countdown."
"Which means it's going to be worse than before," Zack muttered, shutting his screen with a sharp gesture. "The system wants us blind."
Jake clenched his fists, his mind still clouded by the remnants of his dream. He refused to let history repeat itself. He wasn't going to abandon his daughter the way his father had left him. He wasn't going to fail the people who depended on him now.
"We stick to the plan," he said, his voice steady despite the unease gnawing at his gut. "No matter what happens, we don't let it break us."
The others nodded, their determination solidifying like steel. The system may have had control over the trials, but it wouldn't control them.
Not if they had anything to say about it.
Zack quickly glanced on the timer at his screen once more.
[The Next Trial will commence in 1 hour.]
[01:00:00…00:59:59…00:59:58…]
[Goodluck, Survivors.]