I scoot my body the best I can towards the wall, feeling like an inchworm gliding across the floor and the chair drags its legs behind me. If Frank walks back in, it's going to be obvious that I have moved but I have to grasp this opportunity. When I get up against the wall, I shimmy myself so the side of my hip is flat against the wall under the fire alarm. I look above me and see the picture hanging about two feet higher than my head. I quickly try and memorize the fire escape route, trying to remember where the nearest stairwell or exit is. If I am to bust out of here, I need to know where I am going instead of running around aimlessly.

I glance around the classroom again, panicking that the beast will pop back in here at any second. I see a broken bulletin board leaning against the same wall I just dragged myself too so I scoot myself back a few inches. With my hands behind my back, I pull a broken piece of the wooden border from the frame and give myself a mental high five for moving so quickly.

I scoot back under the alarm and glance to the door, right before I roll over onto my knees. My hands are shaking and every muscle aches, but I use the broken piece of frame as a stick. I slide it up and down the wall, hoping to knock the frame off.

After a few failed attempts, I finally manage to free the picture from the small nail on the wall and it comes tumbling down and hits the floor with a crack. I release a relieved sigh and turn back around so I am back on my butt. I feel around on the ground for the broken frame and once I have my fingertips on it, I slide it so I have a good grip on it and haul ass over to my original spot.

I hear the doorknob jiggling again, so I immediately lay back down on my side and hide the broken frame under the curve of my torso. I feel Frank's presence near me so I remain still with my eyes shut. I try and control my breathing, hoping to get away with my getaway plan. I hear his feet move back to the front of the room and once again, the plastic creaks under him as he sits. I panic that he won't leave the room again and I'll have to lay here until Simon gets back. And once Simon gets back, I am not even sure what his plan is with me. Is he going to let me go? That wouldn't make much sense, seeing as I know their entire plan and can easily run off and tell the Hemmings. Does Ryan or Austin know his plan yet?

The thought of Ryan crushes my heart and there are so many things I had wanted to ask him. I let him silently live next to my room this week, being too mad at Austin to take control of my feelings and now it might be too late to tell him how I feel. I don't want to run away to Philly, or to be on my best behavior for Tate in hopes of becoming his wife, just to make my mother happy. I'm realizing I don't even care about making my mother happy. I just want to get out of this hell hole, run right to Ryan and tell him that we are being stupid. I want to tell him that he makes me feel good enough, that I don't have to be a perfect southern belle for him. That he makes me laugh and keeps me on my toes. That he lets me be myself and I don't have to change who I am to fit into his world. That there is a way for this to work.

But there's no way I can run away or pick apart this broken frame to grab a sliver of glass without movement or noise. And if I want to have my epic romantic moment and be able to tell Ryan everything I want to, I need to break out of here. I can't be a sitting duck.

My heart is thundering in my chest again but I am trying to keep my breathing slow and steady. I would love nothing more than to have Ryan come busting in here to save the day, but I'm panicking that they haven't found me yet. I need to save myself.

I hear the tick of a clock coming from somewhere in the room and I begin counting the ticks as they pass. With every tick, I think of Ryan and my courageous confession and it helps me be brave. I have a plan. I tell myself. I have a plan.

I count the ticks for over six minutes and I know Frank will grow suspicious if I don't stir awake soon. I decide to make the slightest noise but not move too much to reveal my glass. I take in a sharp breath and he immediately pops up off the chair and strides over to me. I hardly open my eyes and I see him staring down at me.

"Good mornin' sunshine," he jokes and I briefly make eye contact with him. I then roll my eyes back into my head and act as if I fell back asleep. I still feel him over me as I try to keep my breathing even. I count the ticks again and soon, I count his footsteps back to the chair.

Suddenly, I'm jolted awake by the sounds of gunshots going off in the distance, outside the building. I can't fake my haze any longer. Frank is quick to his feet and he doesn't move over to me but instead, he flees from the room with his gun out in front of him. I spring up again knowing I have to move quickly as I hear more gunshots outside. I quickly break a jagged piece of glass from the frame, no longer caring if I get caught. I arch my back so my hands can reach my feet and scramble to cut the duct tape from the chair that's keeping my feet in place.

The jagged sides of the glass are cutting into my skin and I fumble with the small piece but I keep sawing, hoping that I am making progress. I finally feel the tape come loose and my feet are free from the chair. I pull my arms under my butt, worrying I might rip my arms from their sockets while attempting to get them in front of me. I almost cry out in agony from the pain that shoots up my shoulder from pulling, while I slide my arms down the back of my legs. I manage to get my hands in front of me and I quickly pull the duct tape off my ankles. I wince as I slowly rip the tape from my lips and if I had any facial hair, it's long gone with the thick silver tape.

I glance back to the door as I scramble to my feet and wonder what the best way out is. The window seems obvious so I sprint over it. It's covered in a thick layer of grime but I can still tell that I am more than a story up. I won't be able to jump and there is no ledge connected to the wall. I hear more gunshots fired, this time inside the building and immediately move away from the window. I duck under the classroom chairs as I hold my zip-tied hands in front of me while remembering instructions from my self-defense class. I know there is a certain angle where I can break free from the tie.

I pull the zip tie as tight as I can with my teeth before pulling my hands over my head. In one quick swift motion, I hit my arms against my torso and flex my abs while pulling my hands away from each other. I try the fluid motion three more times and finally, I watch the plastic break free and I scramble back to my feet. So far, so good.

Thinking quickly, I run my eyes over the classroom and I hear two more shots fired. I don't want to flee into the hallway where bullets are flying but I also can't go out the window. I move my gaze to the ceiling and realize it's covered in movable tiles with an air conditioning unit in the center. I waste no time stacking a chair on top of a desk and I quickly climb onto the wobbly chair. Frank must be wounded or the worst babysitter in history because he has yet to come in and check on their prized prisoner.

I push one of the ceiling tiles away from the connected air vent and see that the vent runs through the classroom and into another. I don't have time to test the strength of the tiles and I thank God for my height as I pull myself into the ceiling. I am relieved nothing gives way. As I climb next to the vent, I kick the chair out from under me and the hard plastic goes bouncing across the floor. With shaking hands, I move the tile back into place and as soon as the corner of the tile is aligned with the frame, I hear the classroom door bust open. I freeze all movement and peer back into the classroom through the small slates in the vent.

"She's behind the desks, grab her and we'll move her," Simon says while pointing to two men, looking like stereotypical mobsters with black leather jackets and guns attached to their hips. I have never seen either man before but they are all business, with scowls taking over their rough features. I notice Simon's shoulder is bleeding and when the men realize I am no longer there, Simon sprints over to my vacated spot.

"Where the hell is she?" Simon snarls and the men look to each other, unsure of an answer. Simon kicks the chair I knocked to the ground across the classroom floor.

"She woulda had to have gone back out to the hallway, check every room on both floors and so help me, y'all better find her," Simon snaps to his cronies and they all briskly leave the classroom. As quietly as I can, I slide myself through the opening in the ceiling and settle next to the air vent.

I inch my way across the grid of tiles and keep the air vent to my right side for support. I notice myself crawl into the connected classroom and it's dark with no movement. I look behind me as I try and remember which way the staircase was according to the fire escape plan I saw on the wall. I mentally run through what little I know of the building and match the hallway with the picture I saw. The staircase was at the end of the hall to the right of the elevator so I continue down the ceiling trying my best to run parallel to the hallway, all while praying the ceiling tiles hold me and I don't come crashing down to the floor. I can't believe I have made it this far with how drugged out I still feel and I am hoping my luck won't run out.