The breakfast was over.
Madison, Logan and Noah moved quietly around the dining area, cleaning the table. Jace remained seated in silence, arms crossed, eyes blank as if trapped in distant memories. Owen finally pushed his chair back, letting out a tired breath.
"I'm going to sleep now... I am—" he hesitated, "I'm just really tired."
Ava gave a quiet nod, understanding without needing to ask. She stood as well, her expression unreadable.
Noah looked up from wiping a plate and offered a gentle nod.
"Oh, sure. Go sleep. You need it. It's almost been half an hour since you guys came here."
Owen rubbed the back of his neck and glanced toward the window, where morning light now fully bathed the city skyline.
"Yeah... the sun's already risen."
He paused.
"The tower must be gone by now..."
"Meaning—" he exhaled deeply, "the others will return tomorrow. Not today."
Noah's eyes lingered on Owen for a long moment, sensing the weight of the words. Then he nodded slowly.
"Yeah."
"Hope they have a safe return."
As Owen turned to walk away, Noah's thoughts echoed silently in his mind.
"I hope Ethan and Milo are safe..."
He returned to the sink, scrubbing the dishes slowly, lost in quiet contemplation.
Ava stood nearby, glancing between Noah and Owen—caught between wanting to speak and fearing there was nothing worth saying. She stayed quiet and followed Madison toward the rooms.
*A few minutes passed.*
The dining area was now empty, bathed in the soft amber glow of early morning. Madison and Logan had returned to their room. Jace, still in silence, had finally wandered off to his own. Owen lay curled on a mattress, already half-asleep, haunted by echoes of the phase they'd escaped.
Ava sat on the edge of the bed beside Madison's room, her arms wrapped around her knees, chin resting softly. She stared out the large window, watching the golden light spill over the perfect city.
Her mind wandered, drifting to a different place.
A different time.
A different face.
Elliot.
His laugh.
His voice.
The way his eyes vanished from their sockets.
She squeezed her arms tighter around herself.
"I still see him."
She didn't say it out loud—but it lingered like fog in her thoughts.
And then…
Samuel.
Samuel lay on the bed, motionless, eyes wide open as he stared through the glass at the clear, golden sky. The sun poured into the room like warmth through a veil—but none of it reached him.
He didn't blink. Didn't move.
Just breathed.
His voice broke through the silence, low and hollow.
"I can't..."
"I can't sleep."
He clenched the edge of the blanket beneath him, fingers trembling.
His mind was still trapped in Phase 10.
The screams. The panic. The weight of failure.
"I'm pathetic..."
he muttered again, quieter this time, as though he didn't deserve to hear it himself.
"I did... nothing."
"All I did was be a dead weight...?"
"During the puzzle, I couldn't figure it out. During the chaos the Warden caused... I couldn't lead anyone. I couldn't calm them down."
His jaw clenched.
"I didn't even fight."
"I left Jace there—" his voice cracked,
"And when Victor betrayed us..."
"He beat me too."
His breath caught. A wave of shame surged through his chest.
He sat up slowly, hands gripping his hair, elbows on his knees as he leaned forward.
"What am I even doing here?"
A bitter chuckle escaped him. Cold. Empty.
"Everyone else has a role... Owen take cares of the supplies, Jace can fight, Ava has seen hell and is still moving, even Noah's been holding things together here..."
His eyes glistened.
"And me? What do I do? What do I bring?"
He remembered the look in Victor's eyes. Calm. Controlled. Strong.
Samuel had been nothing but fear and hesitation.
"I couldn't even save one person."
His shoulders trembled slightly. He wasn't crying—but something inside him was unraveling.
He stared at the floor. His shadow barely moved beneath the pale light slipping through the curtains.
No one was here to hear him — and maybe that was for the best.
His voice broke the silence again, barely a whisper at first.
"I've always thought of myself as strong..."
He chuckled bitterly, resting his head in his hands.
"Like I was someone who could hold it all together when things fell apart."
"I used to believe—honestly believe—that I could fix anything if I just had enough time. That even if things went to hell, I could pull us back."
He looked toward the ceiling like it might give him answers. It didn't.
"I thought I was the kind of person who could lead others. That if everything broke, I'd be the one to put the pieces back together... because that's who I wanted to be."
A pause.
"But this phase..."
"This goddamn phase ripped that illusion out of me."
His voice wavered, teeth clenched.
"I froze during the puzzle."
"Everyone was panicking, and I just stood there. Watching. Hoping someone else would take control because I—"
"I couldn't."
He punched the mattress.
"When the Warden showed up, I didn't protect anyone. I didn't guide anyone. I couldn't even speak. I didn't fight. I didn't help Jace. I didn't stop the fear from spreading. I didn't calm anyone down."
"I just watched everything fall apart, like some useless piece of background noise."
His breath grew heavy, shaking.
"And Victor..."
"Victor—the traitor—even he was more decisive than me."
He laughed again. Hollow.
"He made his move. He took control. And what did I do?"
"I got my ass kicked. I got humiliated."
His eyes narrowed, tears beginning to form, but he didn't let them fall.
"I realized something that day."
"I'm not the strong one."
"I'm not the smart one. I'm not the reliable one. I'm not the leader, or the protector, or the fighter. I'm not anything. I'm just a guy..."
"A guy who tells himself he can handle everything until he actually has to."
"A guy who pretends to be a main character when, in reality..."
"I'm not even a side character."
"I'm... just extra weight."
He gritted his teeth so hard it hurt.
"No one said it. But I felt it."
"In their silence. In the way they moved forward while I stood still. I was dead weight they were forced to carry."
He looked toward the door. Toward the rooms where his friends were sleeping. People who had lost just as much — if not more — than him. But they were still holding on.
"They all survived the same pain."
"They're moving forward. And me?"
"I'm stuck in a loop of pretending I matter."
His voice cracked for real now, soft and breaking.
"If they left me behind, would it even change anything?"
The room was quiet again. Uncomfortably quiet. His words still echoed faintly in his own ears.
The silence that followed wasn't peaceful.
It was the kind that burned.
Samuel didn't move. He just sat there, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands.
He didn't cry.
He wanted to.
But even that felt like something he didn't deserve.
Minutes passed.
Or maybe seconds.
Time didn't feel real anymore.
His breathing steadied, but his body stayed tense — like a spring pulled tight.
Then, finally... a whisper to himself. Hoarse. Low.
"I need…"
His voice caught again.
The weight of his failures clung to every syllable.
A pause. A long, dragging pause.
He inhaled — deeply — and then let the air burn out through his clenched teeth.
"I need to get stronger."
He didn't lift his head.
His palm remained over his eyes.
But his voice, this time, carried more than shame.
It carried desperation.
It carried something sharp.
"No."
Silence.
"I NEED to be stronger."
He looked up now. Finally.
His eyes were tired. Red. Hollow.
But behind them — there was something beginning to flicker.
Not hope.
Not yet.
But a decision.
"I won't let this be who I am."
"I will not... let this be who I am"
He stood slowly.
Not like a hero. Not yet.
Just a man — broken — still standing anyway.