What happened to Ravenholm? I used to get letters from my sister in Ravenholm… They’d take a few weeks to get smuggled from her home in the enclave of escaped citizens to my apartment in a highrise near the plaza of City 17, but they always arrived. Ever since she got there, my family and I had been planning to join her when the opportunity showed itself. It’s been four months since I’ve heard from her. My cousin, my only remaining family in the city, left to go find her a month ago. I had to stay to cover both of our shifts at the warehouse, or we’d be fired and arrested by Civil Protection, but he took a radio we’d bought off a smuggler to keep in contact with me. Every few nights, I tuned in on my stationary and spoke to him. He got to Ravenholm eight days ago. That was the last time we spoke. That night, he had just set up camp a few miles from Ravenholm, in the hills above it. Until then, he had told me about the strange beauty of the outlands. Freedom confuses the senses, I suppose. But Ravenholm was different. He said it was lifeless. No noise, no people, just fire. But he had to find where she might’ve gone - If she’d escaped, or… I’m so lonely now. Waking up every morning to an empty bed across from me only to be greeted by the fake smiles of my supervisors as I perform meaningless tasks for… what? Pride? Credits? The walks home, every night, where I see ruined families and the crushed dreams of citizens like myself, only make me feel guilty for being this unhappy. I just want to know what happened to her... to my cousin... to everyone who lived in that "safe-haven for escapees". This is not living. I hope my sister - my cousin, too - have found a better place. I’ll join them soon. More writing from Jayden.