How very much I’ve tried my best to give you a good life.
But in spite of all my trying, a handful of people with their lies have made our lives impossible.

—Jim Jones

The darkness and silence are complete after Pioneer leaves. If anyone is in the rooms above me, I can’t hear them. There’s only the impenetrable black and the staccato rhythm of my heart.

More time passes. I can’t be sure how much because there’s no way to know. I’ve started talking out loud to the empty room to try to distract myself and keep my claustrophobia at bay. At first I was screaming over and over to be let out, but if I can’t hear anyone, they probably can’t hear me either. And the screaming, even though it’s coming from my own chest, is frightening to hear. It makes my panic grow until I feel like I might explode into a million bits.

I go back to pacing the small cell.

“Someone will come. Someone will be here soon. He won’t do what he said. He can’t.” I say these things out loud over and over, but it isn’t really helping. The dark is a living thing around me, fluid and full of shadowy shapes that I know probably aren’t real, but even so, I’m starting to wonder. I press my hands to my eyes because I can’t tell anymore if they’re open or closed.

I pace my cell, counting out the steps it takes to go from wall to wall. Seven forward, seven to the left, seven to the right. I run my hands along the bars and then the wall and then the bars again as I walk, stopping only after I count five hundred steps. Then I lie on the cot, pull my feet to my chest, and try to make myself calm down. I close my eyes. I can’t stand staring into the darkness anymore. And my head. It feels worse than when I hit it in the parking lot. Without trying, I fall asleep.

Some time later, a sliver of light wakes me up. My eyes scrunch in protest and I place a hand across my face, shrinking back into the cot. I want to cry with relief. I’m not completely alone. Someone’s come. But then I remember what Pioneer said about saving me for last. He’s come for me. I scramble off the cot and pull it on its side in front of me like a barrier. I don’t know how else to protect myself. There’s nowhere to hide.

“Pioneer?” I say when I can’t stand the anticipation any longer. My voice is raspy at first; my throat’s dry from lack of water and use.

“Lyla?”

It’s Will. I break down, my sobs coming in fits and starts.

He opens the supply room door wider and props it open with a large can of peaches. He doesn’t turn the overhead lights on yet and I’m glad, because my eyes are still adjusting to the indirect light from the stairwell. It hurts and I have to shield my eyes.

“Pioneer said that I should bring you some water.” Will holds out a cup and waits.

I stand up and shuffle closer to the bars once my eyes adjust. I take the cup from him and sip. It’s warm, but I could cry it tastes so good. “Thanks. Where is Pioneer now? What’s happening? Is everyone okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

Will shrugs. He looks weary and miserable. “I’m not hurt. I don’t know how everyone else is just yet. It was pretty crazy out there. We’re sealed in. The sheriff pulled back a while ago and we just left everything and came here. But Pioneer says that they’ll try to get in soon.”

I lean my head against the bars. I was hoping everyone was still outside. I was hoping that somehow I could convince Will to tell them about Pioneer’s new plans and that they could run from Mandrodage Meadows, take their chances with the sheriff. Live.

“Will, you have to get me out of here. Pioneer’s losing it. He’s planning something awful and we need to warn everyone.”

“Shut up!” Will yells. I stagger backward as if I’ve been slapped. “Pioneer warned me you’d do this. You’ll say anything, won’t you? When did you get like this, Lyla? How could you let yourself turn on him—on all of us—so easily?”

“Will, I’m not, I promise I’m not. Please believe me. He’s planning on killing all of us now so that we won’t leave here. Ever. We have to stop him.” My head hurts. A lot. Talking is making it worse. I press my hands to my temples and try to make it stop. I need to make him hear me. “Please, Will, there’s no time.”

Will doesn’t seem to be listening. “You were mine, Lyla. We were supposed to get married someday. How could you even look at anyone else?”

It hits me then—how much I’ve hurt him. He really does love me. Not in the friendship-type way that I love him, but in the deeper, more romantic way that I don’t. I’ve always known that he liked me more, but it’s so much stronger than I suspected. The center of my chest aches. Will is one of my best friends and I’ve hurt him, wounded him enough that he may never forgive me. But now is not the time to talk about any of this. I need to get him to focus on Pioneer. I need to get him to help me find a way out of here and then go and warn the others.

“Will, none of this matters right now. Listen to me! Pioneer’s going to kill us. Not the sheriff, not the men outside. Pioneer.”

“Why should I believe you? You call him a liar, but you’re the liar, Lyla.”

“What happened with Cody …,” I begin.

“Just shut up! Don’t you say his name. I don’t want to hear it!” Will shouts. He looks up at me. His eyes are shiny with tears. Then he turns and walks further into the supply room, keeping his back to me. “You’re never going to love me like I love you, are you?”

His question shocks me. He turns back again, his eyes angry, but sad too. “Are you?”

I wish the cell bars weren’t between us. I want to go over and put my hand in his, to make him see that I will always care for him. I work to soften my answer. “I don’t know, Will. I’ve always hoped that I could someday.”

He swallows a few times before he speaks. “Well, I’m not sure I want to be your consolation prize anymore. I deserve better than that, Lyla.”

“I know, you’re right, you do,” I say. I’d convinced myself that he was somehow oblivious to my true feelings, but now I know he’s always known. I can’t imagine how much it’s hurt him these past few years. I am cruel and selfish and utterly unworthy of his devotion. I’ve failed him. I’ve failed everyone.

“I am so, so sorry,” I say because it’s all I can say. “What’s wrong with me, Will? Why couldn’t I just be what everyone needed me to be?”

“Don’t do that,” Will snaps. “You can’t ask me to pity you now. I won’t. You got yourself and all of the rest of us into this mess. For what? So you could play at being a regular teenager? Well, you’re not. None of us are. We’re chosen. And yes, that means sacrificing some things. But we have all had to do that. Don’t pretend that you’re the only one who’s struggled with what Pioneer asked of you. It’s not our place to question him or the Brethren’s plan. You have and now see where it’s gotten us—underground months early with Outsiders breathing down our necks. We’re gonna have to keep fighting them off to keep ourselves safe now. You get that, right? We’ll be fighting until the end of days. They’ll find a way in eventually, it’s just a matter of time. And it’s all your fault.”

He’s still convinced that Pioneer is sticking to the original plan. He won’t believe a word I’ve said. He’s not going to get me out. He’s not going to warn the others. I have only my word as proof of what Pioneer’s planning, and my word is meaningless in the face of his anger and hurt.

I sink down onto the cot. No one will believe me if Will doesn’t. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m to blame for what’s happening. If I hadn’t questioned Pioneer or let Cody in and told him everything, we might’ve been okay. Pioneer wouldn’t be planning to kill everyone. Will wouldn’t hate me. My parents wouldn’t doubt me. I’ve started something I can’t stop now. No matter what, it won’t end well—for any of us.

Will hits one of the supply shelves with his palm. “You’ve ruined everything.” He rushes toward the supply room door, but stops long enough to turn the lights out again. He’s gone and I’m alone in the dark—which is exactly where I belong.