"Maybe we shouldn't…" I whisper, as we edge closer to the girl. She looks older than us, by a few years at least, or maybe just the tear tracks on her cheeks added age to the pale contours of her face. I take a step backwards, while the others edge forward. She hasn't noticed them, and maybe this is a good thing. Maybe they'll decide to leave her alone. Her dark brown hair is framing her face, covering her eyes slightly on one side, making her pale eyes look brighter. Her hands tremble slightly, you'd never notice if you weren't looking for it. I want to leave her alone even more than I did before. "Please." I whisper, but just as before, the group creep forwards, leaving me and my churning worries behind. I always feel like this before, but somehow it's worse. Taking a victim, breaking them more, than just creating a new one, seeing the remaining light left in someone's eyes just fade away, because of you, because of something you're forced to do. At last, it seems my detachment from the group has been noticed, as Jack turns round to me.

"Howell. Don't play about. You're on thin enough ice as it is. Don't push us anymore." The words themselves scare me enough, but his tone makes me cringe in my own skin, though the only sign of it is a slight twitch of my left eye. Wordlessly I nod, even though from the corner of my eye I can see the slow motion of a head rising up to meet the gazes of elven predators, and taking in the figure staring at the floor, the prisoner. I glance up at her, it's all I can manage. Her eyes are filled with a sort of fear, mixed with determination. If she thinks she can fight her way out, then she's wrong. The dread pools in my stomach. I meet her stare again, pleading with my eyes. Don't run away. Don't listen to what they say. Ignore what they do. Please.

She's confused. The others form a tight ring around her, I hover in the background. I wish she'd stop looking at me, it makes the discomfort, the pain worse. Somehow I wonder if my pain is worse than theirs. They get it once, maybe temporarily worse, but mine is repeated over and over and over, endlessly. Sometimes I wonder why they make me do this. I'm not one of them, I'm not like them, but then I realise that's the exact reason. They take pleasure in other people's pain, and I'm just another victim. They like it, watching me suffer. Making me watch them make other people suffer. She's still looking at me. I'm not looking, but I know that Chris has taken the step, that he's going to make his move. The others have fallen silent. I look down at my feet, scuffing the toes of my trainers against the grass.

I hear the slight rustle of his feet as he bends down to take the first blow, knock down her defences. He was so good at it, they all were. Knew exactly what buttons to press to ruin a person inside. I want to scream at her to ignore him, scream at him until he stops. A rough pull to the hair on the back of my head forces me to look up, watch the scene play out before me. Two victims, but one of us will be forced to live the same horror over and over and over again. Her eyes fill with tears, but in a split second, they're gone, the glaze in her eyes replaced by a strong resolve that scares me. The devastation on her features is replaced by a calm determination, the set of her mouth narrowing, and her eyes looking, but not really singing.

Chris is surprised. He takes a step back, when he doesn't hear the normal intake of breath, see the silent tears that threaten to spill from the corners of the eyes. He looks at her, seeing exactly what I do, the eerie tenacity that has taken over her body. With the peaceful smile and closing of her eyes, I know this is wrong, this is very wrong. From the pocket of her coat, she pulls out something metal and shiny, sharp and terrifying. Chris lets out a yelp and jumps back, but she doesn't aim it at him, of course she doesn't. The others back away , scattering, but I stumble forward blindly, reaching out. I'm too late. Of course I'm too late. There's a sharp ringing in my ears, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor, and I'm falling, I can't breathe, and my vision goes blurry, but I can still see everything clearly. Her blood on my hands.