Over the weekend Ronan proceeds to spam me with texts and phone calls, begging to know what happened and whether I'll actually talk again, insisting it's all a lie. I don't answer.

Mum and dad and Alex and Lizzy are around often, trying to coax me out of my room. I refuse, only opening the door to take the food that Alex passes me. Rose texts me only once, to tell me that her dad says I'm grieving.

Your dad texted my dad and told him how you're acting. He says you're grieving or depressed, but you were fine on Friday. What happened?

I'm not grieving. I answer. It's a lie, I am. They say you don't know how much you love something until it leaves, and I guess they're right. But there's just no way I can talk to Ronan now. It's dangerous. Rose texts me again.

Just tell me what happened. I can help.

I stare blankly at the text for five seconds before sending her the link for the newspaper. I put my phone in the cupboard and lie back on my bed, pulling the blanket up to my chin. Someone knocks on the door and I call for them to come in.

Dad sits himself on the edge of my bed. I close my eyes, ready for whatever lecture he comes up with. I feel his arm around me, pulling me close. "Emma, Emma, Emma, what happened?" He croons softly. "What can I do?"

"You can leave me alone, as you have for the past two days." I say gruffly.

Dad winces. "We thought it would pass but it hasn't. Please, tell me what's going on. Doctor Taylor says you're grieving–"

"I'm not grieving! Nobody died!" I snap, pulling away from him. I can't stand those sad eyes just looking at me.

"It's Ronan, isn't it?" He says simply. "Logan called yesterday. That boy isn't moving from his room, just like you."

I don't say anything, just glare straight ahead. Dad ploughs on. "All couples fight, sweetie."

"We aren't a couple, and this isn't just some silly fight." The words come as a snarl. Dad looks horrified as an idea comes to him.

"He didn't... did he?" I catch his eyes flitting to my stomach. The idea is so ridiculous that I start laughing. Dad smiles in relief and hugs me quickly again. "All right. I'll let you sort this out on your own, it's obvious you aren't going to tell me."

"No. You can guess all by yourself." I gently nudge dad towards the door and he kisses me quickly before disappearing. I lie back down on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Things are starting to make sense now.

If Ronan killed his parents, of course he's adopted. This also explains why he threatened Rose with a knife when she mentioned the police... He's on the run. And Tang, his last name. If he'd kept it he would have been arrested in five seconds flat. But it doesn't explain some things....

I toss on the bed, remembering how much Ronan seemed to care about me, even after I set his arm's healing progress back about three days. How much I cared about him. A shudder runs through me. If I'd known he was a killer then, would I still have helped him with his arm?

No. It's not as if he's actually shown any sort of love towards me either.

If it weren't for Ronan you would be dead. A tiny voice inside me whispers, and brings up the memory of pain and fear as Thomas pressed his gun against my temple. I let out a quiet sob. Was he lying then? Saving me so he could use me for whatever purpose he has in store?

"He couldn't." I say allowed. But then, do I actually know Ronan at all? I shake my head quickly, side to side. Now I'm arguing with myself, this just gets better and better. I breath in deeply and lie down. It's kind of dark outside, and I check the time. Very late.

I pull out my phone again, self-consciously. I'm on it a lot these days, but Rose has texted an hour ago. He's never tried to kill you, has he? Maybe he's right. He was framed?

I put my phone back and my stomach growls. Honestly, it's a very late dinner tonight... Usually Alex or Lizzy bring up food around half an hour ago. Maybe they've had enough? They're trying to make me leave?

I get up and carefully shuffle to the door, pressing my ear against the wood. There's no sound of the family or the smell of cooking. I frown and push the door open a little bit. Just outside my door is a small metal ball. I tilt my head as tiny holes suddenly open in it.

Cold air blasts from the ball. My knees buckle and my fingernails scratch the door. My family... Where've they gone? This thing, this metal ball, it's putting me to sleep. Stay upright, Emma.

"You're sure this is the girl's house? She wasn't with the family."
"Maybe we should torture the boy for information...."
"No, they're more useful to us alive. Leave them as they are, don't harm a hair on their heads."

I breathe a sigh of relief as I back away from the doorway. Muddled as my mind is, twitching as my legs are, I know that if the people down there come up here and then have... A spasm runs through me. I can't even keep one thought from another.

"There. That door was closed before." I recognise Olivia's voice. If she's here, that means the rest of the gang are probably right behind her. And if they find me again... I couldn't possibly survive a second encounter, especially not like this.

My legs spasm again. I'm not even in control of them anymore. I can hear the sounds of approaching footsteps and I bite my lip. There is- quite literally- only one hope. I lift myself up on the wall and throw my body on the bed. The desk chair is right next to me; I push it weakly until it jams against the door and prevents it from opening.

In a half-blind frenzy I grab my phone. More by pure sense than anything else I know that Olivia, wearing a gas mask, is slamming again and again on the door. I only have little time. With trembling fingers I open the messenger.

"We know you're in there!" Somebody shouts. My breath coming in gasps now, I stab at the keyboard. Help me.

Then orange spots dance in front of my eyes and I fall into a bottomless pit of darkness.