He reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, detangling any knots that caught against his fingers. Naib had been in the manor for 6 months now and was tired of the games they had to play each and every day. He was stabbed, slashed and torn to pieces constantly and yet every time he returned to the dreaded manor; his body healed, no remnants of the new horrors he was facing.

Yet the scars of his past lingered, silvery white lines scattered across his torso and limbs. Sleepless nights caused by the flashing images of dead friends he saw every time he closed his eyes, comrades and even enemies, panic attacks and flashbacks when anything would make a noise that was just too loud.

Sometimes he hated the fact he lived.

He wishes he could have died in the war.

The manor and games had left their own marks.

Blades tearing through his flesh.

The feeling of dying.

Watching his friends die when he couldn't save them, when he wasn't good enough.

He was pulled from his thoughts as the heavy door crept open. He turned his head in the slightest of movements to watch as Eli Clark, the seer, came in. He let out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding.

It seemed as though the boy always knew when Naib was having these thoughts and where to find him. Eli would always promise things would get better but sometimes Naib felt couldn't trust his words, he'd been stuck in his own personal hell for years, why should anything change now? Yet some small part of him hoped Eli's prophecies were true.

The other survivors like to talk about what they'd do when they escaped; settle down, work, go have adventures and Naib shared these sentiments, the desire to escape this desolate manor and it's torturous games.

But even if Naib could escape the manor what would he do, the peace of mundane life was not suited to him. His mind was too scarred, ever ready for attacks that would not come.

"Naib"

"Eli"

Eli flopped down on Naib's bed. The soft crackling of the fireplace filled the silence.

"Come here"

Naib stood, shutting the diary in front of him, he'd only written a small amount tonight, hopefully that was enough to appease the owner. Dropping down on the bed he rolled into Eli's arms.

Tucked against someone else with warmth protecting him from the terrors of the night. He felt safe.

It had been 6 months in the manor but sometimes it felt like years.