Hey guys! This is my first ever attempt at Lorien Legacies fanfic! Just warning you, though, I am a pretty biased person so don't kill me if I focus more on Marina's POV. I don't have a lot of John/Sarah romance, either, and I may or may not try doing some Nine/Six. Anyway, some swear words in here, mostly from Nine.

I don't own the Lorien Legacies (Or else Eight wouldn't have died)

Nine

Bam! I throw my fist into the wall without even trying, and it goes straight in. The cheap shack Six, Marina, and I found shakes. After the events a few long hours ago, I really need to unleash my anger. Six didn't mind as long as I don't hurt myself or anyone else that's not a Mogadorian. Glancing at her look of disapproval for punching the wall, I guess punching walls weren't at the top of her list of things I would do. Neither she nor Marina has the energy to stop me, though.

I punch the wall again. That was for Sandor, I think. I thought having my beloved Cepan taken away was going to be the absolute worst thing in life for me. I thought wrong. Now, after I had one of my best friends, someone who could've been like a brother to me, sacrifice his own life for something that I clearly deserve, I'm not so sure anymore.

Anger takes over me and I punch the wall again. That one was for Eight. I've never felt so guilty in my life. In fact, I don't think I've ever felt guilty for something before now. I don't want to admit it, though.

I lash out at the wall again, creating a fourth hole. That was for my own stupidity of not knowing how to shut up and control myself. Maybe then Eight would still be here, keeping the spirits up and I wouldn't have to be punching this goddamned wall.

I take a tiny step back, looking at the four holes on the wall. Four holes. One for every dead Garde. I'm about to make it five; the fifth one for Number Five. I start to throw my fist but Marina interrupts me.

"Stop it!" she cries. Her eyes are red and puffy, and her hair is a mess. She lies on the bed, face down, but looks up to talk to me. "You're hurting the wall."

Who cares about a fucking wall! Your boyfriend died today and you're trying to protect this stupid wall! I want to shout at her, but then I remember my new personal goal of zipping my lips. Instead, I sigh and lie down on the scratched up couch.

No one gets much sleep that night.

Four

"John!" Sam yells at me. "Check the tablet!"

I'm having a mental breakdown. I let Ella get captured by the Mogs, Number Five might as well be a traitor, and even worse, another one of the Garde has died. To top it all off, I couldn't find my faithful Chimaera, Bernie Kosar. He's gone. Now I'm curled up in the backseat, feeling hollow and dead, doing nothing but rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Sam is helping me stay focused on my mission on Earth, but even with his constant reminders, I can't bring myself together to check the tablet that tracks all the living Garde.

Right now I'm in a car with Sam, Sarah, Malcolm, our Chests, the tablet plugged into a laptop that survived the chaos, the Mogadorian ally Adam, and a few Chimaera. None of them could ever replace BK, though. And if it weren't for me Ella would be here right now, with us.

"Fine. I'll do it," Sam groans. He reaches across me and takes the tablet, turning it on. Six dots show up. One is driving west from Chicago. That's me. Another lone dot is traveling toward the East Coast, and I'm sure that's Ella. The last lone dot is near the coast of Florida. Crap. That must be Five. The others must've ditched him after finding out he's a traitor. That means he's not dead. The last three dots are somewhere near Tennessee or South Carolina.

I pull up the hem of my pants to feel the four scars. My newest one, the fourth one that should've been meant for my death, still tingles and pricks my skin. It's making my whole leg numb but I've already experienced it three too many times.

"Can you read Loric, Malcolm?" I ask, finally speaking up. He chuckles, but it's more of a bittersweet one, and it tells me that he knows what I want him to do.

"No, but I've considered it, though," he replies. "Let me see the scar."

I straighten my leg and he examines the fourth scar.

"Sorry, can't tell what number it is."

I sigh. Who could've died? Could it have been Nine, the one that almost threw me off the roof of the John Hancock Center? Or Six, one of my best friends and also one of the strongest Loric I know? Maybe Marina, whom without we might've all been dead? Or Eight, one of the nicest guys around who was always a goofball?

I don't want any one of them dead. But one of them is already gone.

Sorry, but you won't be seeing Nine's POV for a while.