I stumble into the wall, sink, and sigh.

           My friend John stares at me, terrified. The screams of other people echo around us.

           “This is a dead end. We have ten minutes left. We need to go.” John moans, almost pleading with me, but I don’t move. I stare at the wall.

           John groans and sinks, as well. John and I were old friends, and have known each other for over fifteen years. When we saw the posters for the games, we knew this was our thing. Now, we are in the final stage of the Survival Games: The Maze. We have an hour to escape the maze, or the doors will close forever, leaving the beasts inside to destroy us.  All we have is a knife, one healing potion, and each other.

           Something crawls past my foot. I shudder, and the thing looks up. It is a scorpion, but not an ordinary one. It has pincers three feet long, and the tail is twice as tall as me, arched, and ready to strike.

           I reach for my knife, but John is ahead of me. He grabs his knife and throws it at the scorpion.

           Bad choice.

           The knife bounces harmlessly off the creature’s thick hide, making it angry and agitated. It sniped at John and connected with his arm. He crumples, with a sickening crunch, onto the floor.

           I feel tears welling up, but I have no time for that now; the scorpion is now aiming at me. I dodge its second jab and sink my knife into the scorpion's eye.

           The scorpion makes a truly horrible cry and scuttles into a corner, preparing for another strike. I stand shaky and see the scorpion lunge out just in time for me to duck and kick it. The scorpion falls onto its side, and I cut off its tail.

           The scorpion does not move. White foam seeps from its mouth, the same thing that happens every time a creature dies here. It vanishes into thin air.

           I go over to John, take out his healing potion, and dump it over him. He immediately springs back to life.

           I’m so focused on John that I forget the time.

           I look down at my watch. Ten seconds.

           I drag him up, and we sprint to the exit.

           The doorway is ahead. Eight seconds.

           We run, full tilt, into the hallway.

           We are about to reach it.

           John trips.

           I turn, and see him lying on the ground, his face muddy and upset. “John!” I yell, but it is no use. The doors are closing, and I see him silhouetted in the doorway, an evil grin on his face.

           “It’s no use now, Harry. Die with me.” And he chucks his knife at me.

           I am so shocked: John, my best friend since I was three, tried to kill me. I hesitate for a split second, and I duck. The knife misses and wedges between the two doors just as it is about to close, and I take my chance. I sprint full speed and run through the doorway, pulling the knife out as I squeeze through. I hear John’s desperate and angry yells as I stumble outside and collapse into the bright sunshine.

           “You have qualified. Congratulations.” A voice says overhead. Thinking about what happened with John, a surge of disappointment rushes through me, and I close my eyes.

           The last thing I hear is, “Take him to Cell 2A”. I am so tired.

           I fall unconscious.