We're gonna die young; Cass

It’s a good book.

One of the ones Killian had recommended I read. It worked well with the medicinal plant book I’d memorised, the applications of a thousand different plants now twisted for more sinister use. It seemed that fighting with weapons wasn’t the only way to impress people in this house. I had found the mentor that appreciated book knowledge and the delicate skill of reading a person’s actions. Apparently, Killian was a fan of poison and he had spent a lot of time showing me his expanse collection of books, plants, and poisons in his library.

I was impressed, my fingers had itched, unable to stop myself as I’d trailed them over the hundreds of book spines that lined the shelves in that room. I’d been lost in a world I never thought I’d see again, surrounded by the dusty smell of paper and sunshine trapped between half-drawn curtains.

A small figure plops down in front of me, the rattle of plastic is enough to make me peer upwards. I look over the edge of my glasses expression neutral as I take in the sight of a girl younger than me. She introduces herself between mouthfuls of chocolate pudding and I have to wonder if that would impress Octavia.

So, this was Isabelle. I’d been here only a few days but I’d already been warned by Fiona to be wary of this little kid. It seemed that she was a ball of angry spiteful rage and from what I’d seen and gathered it was with good reasoning. I glance down at my book again, finishing the last sentence I was on before placing my bookmark in and finally closing the book.

“Assturd?”[ I repeat, smirking at the insult as I readjust my glasses. “That’s a good one,” I say. I’m not interested in antagonising her, and she’s clearly looking for ammunition to hate me or hurt me. I have a feeling that regardless of what I say or do she’s going to leave here thinking I’m worthless. No point in making her desire to kill me as well.

“My mother loved me, right up until she died,” I glance down at the book cover, a finger running over the embolden lettering at the top.“It’s a book about poisons, Killian gave it to me. I’m not as strong as you or Finn so I have to find my own way to compete.”

I show her the cover, making sure not to offer her the book. She seemed like the type of kid that would throw it and burn it. “What do you think? There are at least a thousand different ways to kill someone all right here.”

The question bounces off and I choose not to retaliate with any sort of response. It’s really not worth the energy, it seems that Isabelle is simply pushing at anything until she finds the button that she can expose. I’ll keep my scars buried, hide the pain behind a smile, I won’t give her any ammunition to use against me. There’s no doubt that she’d use it any chance she got.

It seems that my first thought was right. Isabelle is riddled with trauma and she displays it through her personality. It probably doesn’t help that she’s being raised by a trio of sociopathic narcissists. I don’t know everything about this family, and I’m not entirely too sure by what Isabelle means by Finn killed her sister. I swallow the question, something I might bring up to Killian. Maybe? That could be a bad idea. I really don’t know who is safe to talk to.

Instead, I laugh, shaking my head as I look at Isabelle. She makes valid points, but then fighting someone straight on was never the go-to with poison.

“There are lots of different things I could do. I could poison the blade I’m using so that it kills them after one strike. Arrowheads dipped in poison- a ranged attack that’s lethal. Or even being sneaky and poisoning people through food and water. Could you imagine finding a water source and then poisoning it? They wouldn’t even know until they’d drank the water.”

I open the book, flicking to a page that featured berries that looked almost identical to blueberries, but when eaten killed you within minutes. I show it to Isabelle, pointing to the buries as I continued talking. “You could trick your allies into eating these berries and they’d be dead before they knew what had hit them.”

I’m not strong, not entirely good with a weapon, but I’m smart, and sometimes brains win against brawn. Maybe Isabelle preferred the idea of slicing a throat and feeling the life of her victim fade right in front of her. I hated that idea. I hated the idea of killing people at all, but the reality of this life was that it could very well happen.

“It’s a little more sneaky with these tactics, but in the end dead is dead.”

It was one of the first times I’d heard someone really talk about Meredith in a way that made it seem like she had lived her. Fiona had brushed it off as soon as she’d met me, as had Finn. Meredith had seemed like the type of girl to leave an impression, I had watched as she had swayed her allies to work with her. I’d seen her cry out another girl’s name as that boy from six had cut off her leg.

I wonder who Anna is, and I’m sure Isabelle could tell me, but I hold back. I still have so little knowledge about the relationship between siblings that I could just as easily be setting myself up for failure. It hadn’t seemed that way to me, from the moment she’d stood in front of that crowd there’d been so much anger in her eyes. The way she had spat the Strauss name had been almost like a curse.

Her interview had been chaotic, and from what I was learning of this house, designed specifically to enrage the sibling trio who were in charge. Based on my lack of room I was assuming it had worked masterfully. I’m not quite sure why she hated this house so much and it scares me. To be filled with so much spite and rage and die because of it without regret is a lot to try and wrap my head around.

“I did see that,” I say thoughtfully, looking at Isabelle with a raised eyebrow.

I think it was more to do with Will Johnwayne burning her body, though. It’s a bit harder to put together a pile of ashes then stitch together a cutthroat. Meredith was obviously no fool, she’d known what she’d wanted and died wrapped in the arms of the person she’d asked to kill her from the start. You can’t be weak or foolish in that sense. The games were so unpredictable that to survive for that long and die the way she wanted was impressive.

“I bet you’d get a ten or higher as your training score. A score of one is almost impossible to get. I wonder what she did to get such a low score.” I muse, rubbing a hand against my temple as I turn my gaze back to the books in my hand.

“Can you show me how to use a knife or sword? I’m not that good at it and I wouldn’t want to be as disappointing as Meredith was.”