As soon as she touched the screen, the metal walls of the box were replaced with storming clouds above large trees. The steadfast click was devoid from the humid atmosphere as she stumbled through the dark forest. Tall stalks of grass and broken branches poked out from beneath her, tickling and scratching her barren legs as she struggled onward. Some shadow in front of her, pounding at the ground with their feet so hard it felt like an earthquake shuddered her whole body, yelled, "Jenny, hurry up!" And so Tegmark's legs, on its own volition, picked up their pace, stomping loudly over the branches which sometimes impeded her journey forward.

To her left, she saw the distinct beam of a flashlight. It zipped through the trees like a laser, illuminating the disgusting tree trunks with their mossy growth and the decimated flowers her partner -- Gordon, she heard from the back of her head, his name is Gordon -- destroyed in the wake of his escape. The sound of crunching behind her only fueled the frightening fire in her chest, urging her forward, pushing her into what she would assume would be safety. But in the distance, outside of the silencing atmosphere of the forest, she heard a rhythmic horn, so she wouldn't be safe for long if she didn't keep up the pace and listen to Gordon.

The darkness shrouded Gordon's movements and only did the moon dipping in and out of view let her know where he was going. His zig-zagging disoriented her. Watching him go to and fro almost made her mind go haywire as trying to locate him after every few seconds was sure to give her a headache. When he shouted at her again, she huffed in frustration and pushed away at a branch with leaves smacking her face, spitting out the leaf which got into her mouth. Then he went out of sight, went down somewhere, and Felix went along with Jennifer as she approached the small decline of the hillock, trees sticking up vertically as the slope of it went lower than her GPA.

The moonlight was barely enough to see him, but he was waiting at the bottom, his eyes turned up to watch her as she descended. She didn't realize that it was wet and squishy until she hastily clambered down it, so she nearly slipped as she followed thusly, the heels of her Converse refusing to cling to the malleable mud. Thankfully, though, her hands managed to clutch one of the various branches, hanging on tightly. There was a moment where her fingers didn't catch one of the gangly sticks and her waist smacked hard against the ground (ouch ouch ouch, who knew that mud could hurt?), but she scrambled up and wiped the bit of mud and dirt from her clothes before the beam from the flashlight could strike her right in the face.

Gordon helped her to her feet when she landed on the ground at the bottom of the hill. "You okay?" he asked after she balanced herself out, worry lacing his tone.

Felix could feel Tegmark shrug. "We need to go."

"We've already ran so far. Don'tchu think that he would stop following us?"

"They," she corrected, turning her head over to see the beams were closer. She pulled on Gordon's hand, and she went on through the thick of the bramble, dragging him along despite his constant complaint about the sharp ends of the sticks. "There has to be several of them. Did you even hear them?"

"Why'd they get more than one?" he asked querulously, his brow furrowing.

"What're you, dumb? Two kids are out on the run, that's enough for several. Besides, Dad doesn't mess around when it comes around to me, so he must've called back-up."

"At midnight? Who the hell comes out at midnight?"

"Cops who're on duty, that's who," she said, irritated. "There has to be at least three of them on our trail. Their annoying lights are popping up everywhere."

Gordon exhaled sharply. "Okay, then. There's that many?"

"There could be more, we don't know. Dad might have pulled out all the stops. We have to keep going, though. How much farther do you think the safe house is?

"Should be right down this trail. Half a mile or so."

Tegmark threw her head over shoulder. The streams of light barreled down the hill she nearly caught herself on, some of them now on their level. "Gimme a time -- now," she snapped.

"Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops."

"Let's try to get it down to ten. I don't have my phone, so --"

"Yeah, yeah, you'll flip if you don't get to keep up your Snapchat streaks," said Gordon. "And ten minutes? You finna have your legs dying by the time we get there? Mine's healing from . . . you know."

She stopped a moment and turned about to face Gordon, whose expression in the pale moonlight seemed as though he'd experienced death and came back to tell the tale. Either way, Tegmark took no heed to his frightened face as she poked her finger into his chest, digging her manicured fingernail straight into his unbuttoned flannel, right above his heart. He flinched, his mouth curling downward. "Dad'll catch up to us if we don't hurry, remember?" she replied. "You wanted to come along with me on this, so there's no going back anymore. And I don't care about your stupid leg right now, it's the last thing on my mind."

Gordon grumbled, saying, "This is stupid, they'll catch us anyways," but reluctantly kicked his shoes against the muddy ground and quickly kept behind her.

The darkness encapsulated their journey through the harsh portion of the forest, and Tegmark and Gordon kept going and going (they'll get us if we don't, I don't want to go back), thinking not of their scratched legs, their injured shoulders or their cut-up arms but of the life they were leaving behind.

Seeing the men in blue and Mr. Tegmark surrounding the perimeter of the safe house engendered something in her partner that made him quit. She tried to keep him from running forward and revealing them to the world of flashing lights and steely eyes, but he went on anyways, stumbling through the bramble and ending up groveling at Mr. Tegmark's feet. Jennifer hid underneath a bush which could fit a wolf and her pups, sure she was safe. The beating of her heart in her head was intense as Gordon spilled everything, the little bastard, and -- the worst offense imaginable -- pointed in the direction of where they'd been running. He is so stupid, Felix heard Jennifer think, the resounding sound bouncing around as her dirty hands pressed to the ground along with her feet, ready to pounce if a cop was to come around.

She could see the shadows of their feet after their flashlights came forward with streams of harsh light, coming closer and closer. Her hand reached up and grasped one of the branches, her fingernails digging into the bark and a stray one nicking her palm. She didn't mind the blood dripping from her hand, because there was no need -- especially after her father's voice echoed through the forest like a jackhammer: loud, obnoxious and irremovable. She wanted to run (go, you idiot, you know that if you stay here, they'll find you, if you go now, they won't find you as soon, you know this, now GO) but by the time she swallowed down her cowardice, fixed her sneakers and readjusted her bag, she'd opened up the clearing of the bush to find her father's discontent face looking down at her, his downcast eyes of gray penetrating every thought of escape which passed through her consciousness.

She refused to ride with Gordon in the backseat when all was settled and a stern talking-to was administered by none other than Mr. Tegmark. He'd apologized and said he'd make up for it, mentioned that this didn't mean that they weren't friends anymore, but she profusely objected the thought of seeing his pouting face, feeling his egregious presence after he actively ratted her out. No, it wasn't happening.

Not even the word of her father, who was the most stubborn and determined man Jennifer had ever the inopportunity to experience, could move her steadfast rock, and so she was placed in the front with her father, right in front of the shotgun. She wanted to pull it from its hooks so bad and blast Gordon in the head with it, but the violent thought went free from its mindful cage after the boy was released from the squad car. Seeing his mom wait outside with her arms crossed and her bathrobe and graying hair disheveled was enough to devoid her of her anger, at least a little bit. As they were pulling out of the driveway and getting back onto the ground, she could see Gordon's mom smack him upside the head as they pass by, and she smiled at the sight.

When she got back home, she clambered out of the squad car as quickly as possible. Her bloody hand and dirty clothes were ready to be taken care of. Her father's hard-set lips were unseeable behind his moustache as he got out the keys and opened the door, but they moved when she tried to go forward and up the stairs, only to be stopped by the mere weight of his burly hand.

"Jenny," he said gravely, "we need to have a talk."

She attempted to shrug off her father's hand, but it was too strong to easily shift, let alone remove entirely. It irritated her, having to be stuck here in the darkness of the living room, but she stayed in place, watching him as he closed the door behind him and turned on the bright light.

She had to cover her eyes momentarily before they accustomed to the shine. Then she said, her voice snappy: "We already did in the car, remember?"

Mr. Tegmark scoffed, shaking his head. "That wasn't what I wanted to talk about. The boys were around so I couldn't let you off easily, or I would have, you know that." He gestured with his free hand to the hideous upholstery her mother picked out at Ikea, the ones she hated to look at, even if it was necessary to when she was headed to school. "Wanna sit down as we talk?"

"I wanna get cleaned up," she replied. She held up her hand, showing him the small incision in her palm covered in flakes of dirt and rocks. "You see this? It'll get infected. I need to get all the dirt off of me, y'know. Make sure this stupid shit doesn't stain my shirt or jeans, or this thing gets too bad. Can I go upstairs?"

Mr. Tegmark grimaced at the curse, but the bristle of his thick moustache and the narrowing of his eyes told her that going upstairs and trying to weasel her way out of this conversation was impossible, at least for now when everything was still at full fuel and flaming with a heat rivaling the surface of Venus. "You're gonna sit with me. And we're going to have a talk."

"But what about my h--"

"Jennifer Bailey Tegmark, please get into there and sit down. It's been a long day for me, and I don't want to make it longer for the both of us." He looked her in the eyes, the bags underneath his grey irises appearing deeper than a teenager's self-perceived depression. "So please -- I just wanna have a heart-to-heart with my daughter. Is that so much to ask for?"

Tegmark groaned, but shuffled into the living room, dragging her feet. She avoided looking at the crimson upholstery as she sat down, pushing aside the cushions and pillows whilst she stared hard at the green carpet. She saw her father's mud-stained boots enter her view, the dirt caking on the edges of the soles reminding her of where she was. She recognized the same was on hers, except there was an excess, it was worse, so much to the point where she thought she might have to wash them tomorrow.

Felix could feel the dread curling through her hurting, sore bones as the situation in full appeared at the forefront of her conscience, revealing to her the petty discoveries, the unprecedented, needless running, the unwanted disapproval. She wanted to get away, though, and school seemed to be haunting her, everybody watching her as she passed through the halls, their beady pairs of eyes boring holes into her skull and making a mockery of her existence, so she just needed to leave. Maybe it wasn't the best choice to make in the late night, but she'd already planned on it earlier in the day, talked with Gordon and decided she would take it no more, that she would no longer feel isolated for staying silent and unresponsive in the midst of other vows of silence. But now, here with her father's disconcerting look weighing down on her heavier than Atlas's burden, came the brunt of it, the striking punch which rebounded her thinking into a rightful position instead of the wildly unhinged notions she'd experienced beforehand.

"Honey," started Mr. Tegmark, holding out his hand to lift her chin up.

She swatted his fat fingers away. "Dad," she deadpanned. She didn't raise her eyes; they stayed glued to the drying mud caked on her Converse.

He cleared his throat. "Your mother and I were very concerned when you left. We didn't even know you left, you didn't even leave a note. We had looked everywhere for you when we came up to check on you and you weren't in bed. You know how much stress that caused us? I don't think you can even begin to imagine, hon."

I can, Felix heard Jennifer think, the malice in the notion set to an extreme. I've known more stress in the last few weeks than I have in my whole life, Dad, you should understand that. Unfortunately, her thoughts had no particular chance to be announced aloud, so Mr. Tegmark continued: "Your mom nearly had a heart attack. Her blood pressure went through the roof when she realized that you ran away, so I had to handle her while trying to find out what to do with you."

"I'm sorry," she said lowly, her voice soft and controlled amid her internal screaming. "I didn't mean to cause a fuss."

"You had better be." A pause. Mr. Tegmark smacked his lips together, then: "Why, Jenny? Why would you just run away? Was it something we did? Do you not like us?"

"Dad, I love you and Mom, there's nothing wrong with the two of you, but the stuff at school -- it's been a lot."

"Of course, I helped deal with it all, but they should be offering help there, too, right?"

Tegmark shook her head. "I don't know. It's not what I need. I told them how I felt about it, and they -- they didn't do anything about it. And with everyone looking at me, watching me -- I can't take it."

"C'mon, it's not like all of them are actually looking at you."

Remembering the ways she roamed the halls with her head down and seeing out of the corner of her eye that there were indeed people looking at her, she had no choice but to shake her head, the disagreement distinctly prevalent. "Dad, they do. All of them, the whole lot. I've tried telling them to stop, to have them stop but they keep doing it." A tear trailed down her cheek, and she furiously wiped it away, scraping her nails against her face. "It's not fair, I didn't do anything," she cried, her downtrodden voice amplified in her own ears.

Like a man who wasn't sure of his own masculinity or fatherhood, Mr. Tegmark hesitantly came forward, his hairy arms outstretched, and Jennifer, who'd seen him from the corner of her eye, winced, her face contorting into a disapproving expression as he came closer, but she didn't pull away; she allowed the tears to stream down her face as she was pulled into her father's fuzzy flannel jacket, the bristles tickling her cheeks and soaking in the droplets. Her sobs were loud and unrelenting, the control released utterly from her person and to oblivion.

She hadn't cried so hard since she'd lost Hardy the Giraffe at the state fair when she was ten. The memory inside the memory gave Felix pause when the vision of a rollercoaster zooming down a rail came to her; she saw a stuffed animal flying from her hands and into the air, its flimsy limbs flapping incessantly before it was no longer able to be seen. The tears came harder at this sudden memory, the wash of sadness she felt at the time coming back in full force, and Tegmark pushed further into her father's grasp, choking on her sobs.

She grabbed onto him like he was the branch on the edge of a cliff, yes, the hand-hold at the fringe of the universe which she held onto with her life.