~ Escape Plan ~
Days had gone by. I didn’t know how many. Without a clock or routine, I had no concept of night or day.
I hardly ate. I only got out of bed to use the bathroom. Then I climbed back under the sweaty blankets to mourn. After a few days of this, you’d think Roman would have gotten kind of grossed out, but it never bothered him. If anything, he became more obsessed, spending every spare minute he had with me, even though I wouldn’t talk to him or let him near me.
The only thing I bothered to ask during this terrible spell was why he attacked Rose. He reminded me that we were fighting earlier that day and that he’d promised to make it up to me. So he got me Rose’s spot on the Tracers, like this justified everything. I didn’t bother reminding him that it was always mine if I’d wanted it, because he just wasn’t worth it.
He began to look a lot happier and healthier, though, because in his sick twisted mind things were finally okay. On the other hand, I began to take his place as the sickly one. But then something happened that snapped me out of it completely. I was lying on my stomach with my face in my pillow, wishing I were dead, when I heard a voice—Luke’s voice. “Kristine—” it called distantly from above my head.
“Luke!” I jumped up and screamed. The voice called for me three more times. Each time I called back, but it never did more than call for me again. And then it stopped.
“I’m hearing voices,” I said to myself, shaking my head. “I’ve gone insane.” The solitude and nonstop grieving were making me crazy—literally. As much as I longed to hear Luke’s voice again, I couldn’t deal with hearing things.
But what could I do? I couldn’t get away. I couldn’t stop being sad.
Another voice came. Then another. I heard two people talking, but it was too hard to hear to know what they were saying, or even if they were boys or girls.
My hands began shaking as I covered my ears and shut my eyes. Was this my life now? Locked up somewhere in Southland Cinder High, slowly going completely insane? No...Luke didn’t die just so this could happen to me.
I let my hands fall as I thought about what he’d been through, the guts it took to stand boldly within the crowd he was part of before he came here. The fearless attitude he had when he stood up to fight Titus. Maybe I should try to be more like that, living without fear because death would come as a relief.
I would pick myself up and get out of here, I resolved, if only to prove Luke’s innocence and make sure everyone knew it was Roman. They deserved to know the truth. They deserved to feel sorry for placing the blame on him.
So I struggled to unzip the backpack beside my bed, which hadn’t been touched, and pulled out a sweater and pair of jeans. It was hard, for some reason. My fingers felt stiff and weak, like I was using them for the first time. In the end, I took the whole pack with me, so I’d have shampoo and a hairbrush and stuff too.
It was a tiny stone bathroom with three light bulbs above the mirror. I peeled away my sweaty shadow suit and had to leave it hooked on the chain, since I couldn’t pull the leg part up over my entire body. Then I climbed into the little three-by-three square foot shower and turned on the water, which was already warm. I figured I couldn’t be too far from the boiler room.
As the water washed over my skin, I cried for Luke. I had to get out. I had to get back to Harmony and Sassy and Nadine and North Haven and my own bed.
I knew I could tell Roman what he wanted to hear and be who he wanted me to be long enough to get free—but no—I would never do that, even if my freedom and sanity depended on it. It would be an insult to Luke...the man Roman killed...just for loving me...
I took in a painful breath and whimpered. “Oh, Luke...”
No, get it together. For him. I struggled to put the pain on hold long enough to think straight. I had to regain Roman’s trust without affection, but he would never let me go. Not without me faking love.
Maybe, maybe I could get him to let his guard down. I could play nice—pretend everything’s rosy and we’re friends for a while. Lure him into a false feeling of security. I could wait with the chain in my hands behind the bathroom door, leave it cracked just enough to see him when he gets close, and then wrap the chain around his neck from behind and take him down. Then, hopefully, he would have a key or something on him that I could use to get free. It wasn’t the best plan, but it was all I could come up with.
And if I failed and Roman freaked out and hurt me, who cared? If I got away and ran into the Cinders, who cared? Living without Luke was worse than dying. And at least I would be able to say I did everything I could for him.
By the time I got out of the shower, I felt much better, like the sick draining feeling I’d suffered from for days had been washed away. Too bad it didn’t take care of the pain. But it was enough to really let me feel my anger toward Roman, too.
As I dried off and brushed my hair and teeth, I felt a rising rage toward him. He’d taken North Haven away from me. He’d taken away my best friends. He’d killed my real soul mate and imprisoned me for who knows how long. Every cell in my body hated him almost as fiercely as they still loved Luke.
Getting dressed was a pain. I couldn’t get my shadow suit or jeans on or off right. In the end, I had to leave the suit dangling from it and the chain running from my ankle to my waist in my pants. Of course this only fueled my fury.
When I walked out of the bathroom at about the same time Roman came in with a bag in his hand, it was extremely difficult to put a happy face on.
“Breakfast—Wow,” he said, staring at me. “You look like a million bucks. Are you finally feeling better?”
“Yep, but my North Haven suit’s stuck on this chain.” If Roman knew it was a shadow suit, he never let on, making this a perfect way to find out.
“I can help you with that if you sit down,” he said, locking the door behind him. He came and sat across from me. “I’ll let you free long enough to get your suit off—if you kiss me.”
Seriously? That’s all it would take to get free? No—It would take fighting and overpowering him, both things I knew I would fail at if I made a move then. And besides, I wasn’t kissing him! “Sorry, Roman, I’m not ready for that yet. Couldn’t we give the friend thing a shot first?”
“If that’s what it takes, I guess.” He leaned over to reach into his back pocket, the opposite one he kept the door key in, and pulled out an old cast iron key. Roman kept eye contact with me as he picked up my leg and unlocked the shackle.
“Thanks,” I said, turning my ankle around, free at last.
I tried to stand up, but Roman got this awful look on his face. He grabbed my foot and pulled it out straight, making me fall back down.
“Why’d you do that?” I asked.
“You’re not leaving me.”
“I wasn’t trying to. I just need to stand up so I can pull this out through my pants.” I held part of the chain out to him.
“You can lay down and do it. You’re not standing up until this is locked back on you.”
I fumed inside at this, talking to me like a dog tied up in the backyard, but I had to hold back. “All right,” I said, pretending it didn’t bother me at all as I laid back and tugged on the chain until it was out, relying on the memory of Luke to keep me levelheaded.
After taking the suit off, I laid my foot in Roman’s lap so he would know I was ready and that he could trust me. He pulled my pants leg up a few inches and ran the back of his fingers over my freshly shaven legs. “I hate to put this back on you.”
I let him enjoy it a little while longer before I said, “Then don’t.”
He gave me a ruthless look as he snapped the heavy ring around my ankle. “I have to.” He continued to stare at me as I tried to think of something to say.
“How long have I been here?” I finally asked.
“This is day number eight.”
I wondered how long he would keep looking at me like that. “Um, could you maybe get me a different blanket?” I asked. “This one could use a good washing.” I hadn’t realized how rank it smelled until after my shower.
He let out a breath and looked down for a second. “I’m sorry, Kristine. I hate doing this to you. I hate it even more with you acting like yourself again. I just don’t know what else to do. I want to set you free, but you’d leave me. How can I trust you when you spent the last eight weeks with another guy?”
Darn straight I’d leave you.
“Sooo, no clean blankets?”
Roman snickered. “I’ll find you some. I can wash your suit too.”
I pulled it away from him and held it behind me. “That’s okay. I can wash it myself in the bathroom.”
He stood up and pulled the sheets and blanket off the mattress. “Why don’t you eat something? I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Okay.”
Holding the bundle at his side, Roman held a hand out to help me up. Then he used his free arm to wrap around me. “Mmm. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Me, too—And hey, could you bring me more clothes so I have something to change into tomorrow—and a clock, so I can keep up with the days.”
He smiled and kissed my cheek. “Your wish is my command.”
When he was gone, I sat on the floor and fished out a few pieces of bacon from the sandwich in the bag, feeling absolutely disgusted. My skin was crawling. My heart ached. It was a vile feeling to have Luke’s killer hug me. The terrible drained feeling was returning, because it took everything in me to be nice to Roman.
“Okay,” I said to myself, trying to focus. It’s been eight days. I can’t handle eight more. But getting on Roman’s good side won’t happen overnight. Five days. That’s how long I’ll give myself to suck up to him. Then on the sixth day, I would wait for him in the bathroom in the morning and put my plan into action. Maybe with a clock, I could time his arrivals.
Now that that was settled, I set my bacon down so I could cry for Luke some more.