Labyrinth

Chapter 7-

Labyrinth- C7

After two days of being 'allowed to talk' again, mumbling back and forth, spitting insults at each other, discussing interests, and even occasionally sharing our aspirations with each other (and shooting them down for the sake of playing Devil's advocate), I have learned a lot about the semi-elusive Jake Ender.

He's a fan of alt. rock (like me, although we're on different ends of the spectrum of alternative rock), an avid poetry reader- which I had an issue believing myself, since he's clearly not one for poetically flattering females or anything-, and he wants to become a director. Which I shot down, telling him that the film industry is a difficult place to make a name in, and that there's no way he could compare to Tim Burton. Then again, I only crushed his dreams because he said that I'd probably never have the patience or drive to work at an animal adoption center, therefore crushing mine. So we're even.

Around me, some of the higher-ranking tribal members have already woken, painting their faces with different designs in the colors of fresh, crimson blood. I shudder. /Probably the blood of enemies past./ It's probably, like, ceremonial war paint for them to feel more 'into it' when Jake and I are forced to kill each other.

Something brushes up against the back of my head, and I try in vain to look at still-sleepy Jake in my peripheral. It'd be nice to see him in a semi-vulnerable state before he attempts to kill me, which I know he'll do since there's no possible way he can get us out of here.

Unless, of course, he /is/ able to get us out of this, which is highly unlikely.

"'Morning, Snore-y," I try to lighten my mood by spoofing my apparent nickname of 'Shorty', which appears to be all he's called me so far. Better than Martha, I guess, but still no where near as preferable as Marty.

He yawns through a comment that sounds vaguely like, "That was a really bad comeback." There's a short silence, followed by, "Do I even snore?"

Smirking to myself, I return, "Yeah. Like an elephant. Have you ever been checked for sleep apnea?"

"I don't even know what that.. isn't that.. Like, not being able to breathe at night or something?" he asks confusedly, and I nod, even though he can't see me.

"Spot on." Actually, not quite a dictionary definition, but close enough for these purposes.

We sit in silence for a while, until Jake starts up another conversation. "I've always wanted to kiss you, you know. Since the moment I saw you."

Um.. Wow. I blink, surprised. Forward, much? Not that I didn't enjoy hearing that. "Oh really? And why's that?" I ask, my voice getting super pitchy, which is this stupid nervous habit. Actually, unlike some other girls, I've never had a nervous habit that was cute or adorable- all my nervous habits are generally gross or weird.

"Because I've never kissed anyone who might resist," he answers easily, and I can hear the semi-grin in his voice.

I raise an eyebrow to myself. That wasn't quite the Disney-esque, love-triangle-comes-into-play type declaration of love that I had expected.. "What makes you think I'd resist?"

"You're pretty damn stubborn, incase you hadn't noticed."

He may have not shushed me this time, but once again, Jake has shut me up. Even if I do have half a mind to cuss at him and let him know how insufferable he really is.

For a kid who was going to end up dead, I really wasn't getting much done in the way of last wishes.

He /was/ going to get them out.

It was obvious to him by now that Marty didn't have so much as an ounce of faith in him, but that wasn't much of a surprise. Still, Jake was determined to prove her wrong.

Huh. Jake.

The alias still felt weird when he thought of himself that way. He'd always been okay with his original name, so changing it hadn't really been something he was interested in. And then Marty came into the picture and.. There was his chance.

Jake was able to remake himself into anyone, anything he wanted. So he took the golden opportunity, changed his name, and decided then and there that burying his past- his dead father, apathetic mother, pointless flings- was totally and utterly necessary. It shouldn't have taken a traveling companion to remind himself that it was his life and that he could do or be whatever he wanted.

Maybe that was partially why he'd decided to stick with the girl. It certainly wasn't her sparkling personality. In fact, she seemed to have this innate ability to be an asshole (even though he got the impression she thought the same thing about him). Marty was quirky and kinda cute, but one does not simply stick with a total jackass just because they can. So really, sticking with her was probably just because he felt like he owed her for helping himself begin anew.

/Did I just psychoanalyze myself?/ Jake shook his head, letting out a near-silent, incredulous chuckle.

A sharp, demanding "What's so funny?" pulled him away from his thoughts and back into another pointless argument with Marty Collins. He didn't mind, though- that was another thing about her. She always had different reactions. It was fun talking to her, if only to try and get a rise out of her.

"You." Of course, that wasn't true.

"What about me?" she shot back. It was evident from her tone of voice that she was pissed, or at the very least had a glare growing on her face.

He grinned to himself. "A lot."

"...I don't even think that's proper English."

"Who cares?" This conversation was getting them nowhere, but she was fun to banter with regardless. That, or minor dehydration was finally getting to him.

The thought had barely crossed Jake's mind when pounding footsteps thumped sharply in his and Marty's direction. "Is it him?" he muttered under his breath, feeling Marty's neck and head shift against his upper back as she nodded. Shit.

Snatching at any plan formation he could wrap his head around, Jake tried in vain to formulate some something, some way to save himself and this crazy- yet possibly vital to survival in some way- girl. Maybe he could cheat death? /No, Storm Bringer would probably check for a pulse./ Have Marty fake her death? /Remember, she's a godawful actress. Also, the pulse./ Fight their way out? /Too many tribefolk./ Possibility after possibility was shot down by his too-logical-for-this-point-in-time mind. With each ticking second, Storm Bringer drew closer, and Jake wracked his brain more desperately than before.

And then it happened.

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Author's Note:

Sorry if the cliffhanger was bad, but this was more of a filler. /:3

Anyway, Happy New Year's guys! Good luck in 2014!