Daz leaned his shoulder into the wall and slowly lowered to the ground. He was dirty, bleeding, and broken.<br/><br/>He had always been a clean person. Well, as clean as one could be living on such a low level. As a kid Daz knew he couldn't afford to be sick, so he washed himself meticulously every day and washed his hands religiously. He had always been so cautious, not wanting to injure himself like so many other boys did. Sometimes his friends would climb the railings and buildings to spy on the upper levels, but Daz always kept his feet firmly grounded to the platform. Of course, he couldn't completely avoid being hurt. Everyone got roughed up by the soldiers at some point.<br/><br/>"Ha, haaa," Daz wheezed, letting noise escape his mouth. It wasn't quite a laugh, just a broken sound to confirm to himself that he was still alive. The sticks that lined the ground dug into him, making it impossible to be comfortable. He began collecting the sticks underneath him and throwing them away, hoping to find a smooth surface underneath. No luck.<br/><br/>There was a sound. Faint at first, then growing louder into the familiar thumping of footsteps. Daz straightened, grabbing one of the sticks to protect himself. The hunting knife in his bag was forgotten.<br/><br/>"Hello?" Daz called, trying to look up to see if anyone was coming. If it was a soldier then so be it, he would die. But maybe he wasn't the only person put in the maze. It wouldn't surprise him that the government had created some sort of twisted game to crush the fragments of rebellion.<br/><br/>The footsteps were incredibly close, and it was now accompanied by a woman's voice. She sounded panicked and hoarse, much like himself. She wasn't a soldier then. The remaining ground floor above the pit began to crack as the unseen woman ran over it. The fact that it didn't break immediately, as it had done for him, suggested that she was lighter.<br/><br/>"Stop! Jesus Christ, stop! You're going to fall in!" Daz raised his hands to his mouth, wondering in the back of his mind if doing that even made your voice louder. "I'm down here."<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">What if she left?</span>The sudden thought hit Daz like a smack to the face. She had no reason to help him if she was trapped as well. Loneliness hadn't been a problem moments ago, but now that there was some person above him, living and breathing, he wanted to cling to the connection.<br/><br/>Getting out of the pit was a priority as well. His body was screaming at him to survive, no matter what it took. Would this person even be able to help him? He wondered if the woman had been given a bag like him. If by some miracle, she had a rope, he could get out easily.<br/><br/>"Who are you?" Daz asked, heart pounding. IF he could just talk to someone, to hear another voice would be a miracle.<br/><br/>"J-just stay where you are, or something. The ground isn't stable."