A/N: Good day, peeps! Just wanna tell you how wonderful you are and I hope you have a wonderful week :) Also #Gade, folks >:)

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02 - 04 - 2089

"What are you doing here?" I sit up on my bed with as much strength as I can muster, staring hard at Cade. He stands in the open doorway, wearing the usual white shirt and pants of an orderly. They fit nicely, and I can't help but notice the strong outline of his arms through the sleeves. 

"I need to speak with you," he says, taking a step inside. 

"At this hour?" I ask. From my internal clock, I can tell it is late. And I was sleeping when he opened the door, so I know this is unusual. A prick of curiosity blooms inside me at the thought. It fights against the desire to go back to sleep with intensity. 

Cade glances behind him and steps all the way inside, allowing the door to shut fully. "Yes." He lowers his voice. "It's important, Gis."

I hold back a snappy remark and reluctantly nod. "Okay, but please be quick. I'm tired." I still feel exhausted from earlier today when they extracted so much blood from me. I woke up back in here in clean clothes, and I've been trying to rest and regain my energy every since. 

Cade perks up at my agreement and hurries over to me, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He leans in close. I feel his breath on my neck and face and shiver. I force myself to sit up and lean against the cold wall behind me. My hands fumble to smooth down my hair, and I feel all sorts of strands sticking out every which way. I run my fingers through it, trying to comb and tame it. 

"Gis, I... I want to help you," Cade says, his eyes on me, watching and waiting to see my reaction. He looks hopeful.

"Help me?" My eyes widen. I wonder what exactly he is talking about. How does he want to help me? I scold myself for being curious about everything when part of me wants to be angry at him. 

"I've been thinking about what has happened..." he speaks slowly, choosing his words with care. He looks down at his hands, now avoiding my gaze. "I'm so sorry. For everything. I don't want you to live like this anymore."

Before I can stop myself, I reach over and lift his chin up. He hesitantly meets my gaze, and I notice how red they are around the edges. "You want to help me..." I say, more to clarify for myself than for him. Those are beautiful words. A beautiful gift, but... it is what I think it is?

Cade nods, and I lower my hand, almost regretting the action. Cade seems to sag a bit as well, and I wonder why. He clears his throat, calming his expression. "I want to help you escape from this place. I want you to be free."

Free. The word bounces around in my mind. Such a peculiar word, and one I long to experience. If Cade helps me then I can live my own life, free from the instruction of Barr and the cruel torture of Doctor Acosta. They would no longer control me. 

"How?" I breathe, hardly trusting myself to speak. I'm afraid I'll say something stupid and ruin all of this. More hope is growing in my mind. I hope he is truthful and means what he says. 

"I'm not sure yet," Cade admits. "But I've made up my mind, and I intend to see it through. I know the surrounding land and towns that aren't too far away. It wouldn't be easy--"

"I don't need easy," I cut him off. "If you are with me, I think I can do anything." There it is. The stupid thing I didn't want to say. 

Color tinges Cade's cheeks and he shakes his head, forcing out a hard laugh. "You're crazy," he mutters, and I'm not sure if he's talking to himself or me. 

I don't speak, unsure of what to say. I'm sure my own face is red with embarrassment. What must he think of me? Just some crazy girl with no social skills and a weird relationship with a pencil... 

That's how I imagine I must appear to him and everyone else. 

Cade rubs a ragged hand down his face. "Okay, yeah, let's do this. I'll need a few days to plan out the details, but I think we can do it. They aren't expecting me to side with you, so they think that you are detained well enough."

I laugh, then slap a hand over my face as I realize the monitors can see and hear everything we say and do. "I can't wait," I whisper, leaning forward so I can keep my voice low. 

"Don't worry," Cade says, seeing my apprehension. "I put the camera on a loop for fifteen minutes and substituted the recordings for sounds of you sleeping. They have no idea I'm here." He grins, and it's a wonderful sight. It makes me smile back. 

"Brilliant," I whisper, then wish I had kept my mouth shut. What is wrong with me?

"Thanks." Cade winks and stands, smoothing out his pants. "I'll talk to you tomorrow night for more details." He heads for the door, reaching for the keypad to open the door.

"Wait," I call, stopping him in his tracks. Cade turns back to face me, his eyes glittering. 

"Thank you," I say.

Something flashes through his eyes in that moment, but passes just as quickly. He nods. "Sleep well." Then he's gone, and I'm left to sort through what just happened.

I'm going to escape. I'm going to be free. I can hardly contain the glee that bubbles forth. I try to sleep, but that doesn't go very far. The idea that in just a few short days I will get to see the real world for the first time is overwhelming. 

I won't be trapped here anymore. 

I will be free.

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I wake up sometime in the night to realize that I managed to fall asleep. With all my wild thoughts I am surprised I slept at all. But now I can tell that sleep has fled from me, and I won't be seeing it again this night. My mind is wide awake, ready to take on what they day will bring.

I relent to drawing instead of sleeping. My pants are white again, so I have the option of drawing on them again. But I'm not sure I want to. 

Another idea is blooming in my mind. It follows along with the hope I feel of what might soon be. Freedom. 

I withdraw an assortment of my drawing supplies: several pencils, a blending stick, and a charcoal smudger. Then I head into the bathroom where I know they aren't watching. I know it probably won't matter much, as they'll find it soon enough. But it feels good somehow. 

I begin working on the white wall of the bathroom near the toilet, letting my strokes fall hard and fast. Charcoal stains my fingers and dusts my clothes, and I relish the dusty feeling on my fingers. My hands are firm as I finish the outline of my newest drawing. Just the beginnings of a sketch, but I know it will be my best. 

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Hours have passed. My back aches; my fingers tingle. I feel exhaustion pulling at my eyelids. But I don't stop. I'm so close to being done. 

I smooth out another section of the drawing, making the texture appear shiny and reflective as if light is being cast off it. I add a few more smudges around the drawing, critiquing and fixing anything that catches my eyes. 

There. I think it might be done. 

I scoot back a few paces to take the whole drawing in at once. Covering almost all of the white wall is my representation of two people. Both youthful and full of life. The girl is finally free, finding her way in the world she has longed to be a part of. 

The boy is handsome, wonderful, and holds the girl in his strong arms, promising her things till the end of her days. His dark hair is wild and untamed as it always is. 

Gis and Cade. Taking on the world together. 

I smile at the thought. Perhaps that will be my reality. My happy ending. 

If...

One thought creeps in like a sickly tendril of a healthy plant. If I deserve it. Do I? What have I done to deserve any happiness?

Doctor Acosta said I was made to save people. That I was a miracle. If I leave, are people going to die? I don't desire to put others in pain, but I'm confused. And I don't want to be a prisoner. I don't want to be manipulated anymore.

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