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Chapter Twelve

My eyes instantly opened and I shot up, gasping at the scene around me. Throwing the blankets off me, I stumbled out of bed, wiping the precipitation off my forehead. My skin burnt like I was already on fire, but I ignored that and focused on what was ahead of me. The flames around me crackled with glee, filling the place with smoke. I coughed against it, my eyes tearing up as I tried to look around.

"Guys?" I called out. My throat was starting to get itchy. "Guys! What happened?" Was I seriously alive right now only to die anyway because of the fire? I shook my head, trying not to think about that and Victim. I wasn't really sure if it happened anymore.

Somebody grabbed my hand and started dragging me. I allowed them to guide me, tripping over fallen objects as they lay scattered around. I didn't know how they could see, but I trusted them to guide me out.

The smoke was pressing against us harder, swirling in thick gray masses above our heads, and I could hear the stick in front of me choking on the gas. But he only tightened his grip on me. It felt like my wrist was going to snap, yet I grit my teeth and bore through the pain, blinking away the dark spots in my vision every time I took a step.

We continued walking.

Wherever we were in, it was huge, with twists and turns that helped me lose my sense of direction pretty quickly. I recognized it as a precaution for us against anyone coming in, but right now it was a death maze.

The stick in front of me suddenly stopped and whirled around. I caught a flash of dim orange through the smoke, and my breath caught. But it disappeared the next second, and I had no choice but to follow him.

It continued on like that. We would walk for minutes, twisting down rabbit-holes before needing to turn around because of a dead end. The stick figure—who I really, really hoped was not King—kept grumbling under his breath and coughing every few seconds. Not being able to see him made his unintelligible words ominous and kept sending shivers down my spine.

The air quality got worse, and my eyes were blurry to the max level. I tried to wipe the water away, but it kept streaming down my face, attempting to keep my eyes clean. I was coughing like heck, and my throat felt like sandpaper replaced it.

King stopped suddenly again, and so did I. I tried to look around, to see what he saw, but nothing came out of the gloom.

"Why . . . did we stop?" I rasped out.

His grip loosened. "You know you always were a weakling."

I frowned, coughing harder. "What?"

His voice was gravelly. "Your father left because of you. You know that right?"

"Wha—why is this relevant right now? And, no, he did not," I added, more to myself than to King. I shuffled around. "Let's just keep going. We need to get out."

He let go of me. "Find your own way out."

"King!" I cried out, straining forward. My fingers brushed his skin, but he strode ahead, and I lost him. "What? What are you doing?"

"I still hate you, you know," he coughed out, his voice receding.

"Then why did you guide me through this place for the past few minutes?" I asked, running forward, hoping not to lose him.

He did not answer again.

My heartbeat was pounding against my ribs like a rabbit thumping to get out of its cage. Why did King leave me suddenly? Did he believe that we were not going to make it out, and so he decided that we should die separately? My mind was spinning as I raced onward, trying desperately to find a way out. The words 'because of you' kept circling through my mind, no matter how many times I brushed it aside. It could not be true. How did he know about my father?