We got fed drugs again. Once we woke up, we were at a whole different place. We've been sitting on the wooden chairs for what feels like days when the dealer finally speaks.

"I think it's time to let y'all go," he says.

I feel goosebumps explode on my skin at the way he says it. It's a lie, it's a lie— but it's so tending to believe. I can't do this any longer.

"But not together, at once," he adds, grinning as he stares down at us.

Last time I looked down, I was no longer wearing my dress, but a stinking, enormous white T-shirt and big shorts. It's the thought of them changing me while I was unconscious that scares me the most, though.

Thomas is no longer in his suit either. They've dressed him into something similar as me, but his shirt is brown and fits him a little bit better. But looks as dirty.

When I look at the dealer, who's dressed in his stupid satin jacket once again, I also see my phone in his pocket. I carried it with me at the ball. Austin must have Thomas's phone.

Maybe when they let us escape, in whatever way, I can snatch that phone from him, run as I call someone, and then either escape or get sent back. Whatever it will be, at least I'll have called someone.

Before I know it—because I was buried deeply in my thoughts—I'm being untied. So is Thomas.

I've been noticing every single thing happening to him because in the corner of my eye, I'm watching. They're treating him worse than me, while this can easily be called my fault. He didn't do anything wrong.

Roughly, the dealer takes my wrists with one hand, and Thomas's with his other hand, and starts walking. We walk slower. Behind his back,  we can make eye contact.

The phone, I mouth, eyeing his back pocket. I do my best to make a phone gesture with my hand, even though it's being held.

Thomas balls his fists as a gesture back.

I shake my head. No, don't fight him, I say.

Yes, he mouths back, he's weak.

Together we could beat him, I think. But what if Austin suddenly shows up? He's a thin man but I doubt that says anything about his skills. In jail, he must've experienced a lot of crazy things. He is crazy.

But before I can silently argue even more, Thomas already jerks away from the dealer as hard as possible and starts kicking him against the back of his knees until the man falls over.

First, I take the phone out of his pocket and make sure it's tucked in both the shorts and my underwear, so tight that it has no chance of falling.

Thomas's foot is on the man's back by the time I look up. He's pressing hard, his leg shaking. The dealer's groaning against the floor.

I'm not sure what to do at first. What the consequences of this will be.

But then I remember everything he has done. He made both Lyndon and Jennifer end up in the hospital with stabs all over their stomachs. He spread naked pictures of me around. He has been stalking me and my friends and family. Been threatening me, and probably so many more people.

I stamp, as hard as I'm capable of, on his bottom leg. There's a crack and he screams.

Won't be able to chase us now.

Thomas and I make eye contact for a single second before he presses his shoe down on the man's head. I watch, shocked, as he rises his foot and slams it back down. Over and over and over until I'm gasping and until the man is no longer making any sounds at all.

Thomas stops. He takes a step back. He stares at the pool of blood streaming from the man's head, eyes wide at what he did. I see the sanity return to his body while he realizes.

"He deserved that," I tell him. "Don't overthink it. We should just get out of here now."

A bit taken aback, he nods. "Yeah."

"Wait, no— call someone first," I decide. "I have a feeling he was about to let us go but that your father would be standing outside."

"Okay. We'll hide somewhere inside this... abandoned mall," Thomas looks around, "as you start calling people. Share your location with people, too."

I already shared it with Lyndon, Dad, and Amina before he could say that. "We're at an abandoned mall, the dealer is gone, and I've shared my life location," I speak into my phone, sending it into our family's group chat. "But Thomas's father is probably close so we don't know where to go now."

Then I go for nine-one-one. They pick up fast, of course, and the words come rushing out of my mouth. I have a look at the online map once again and tell them where we are.

"Okay. Stay on the phone. Try to walk outside the building. If you notice anything strange, just go back in," the woman says. "The police are on their way. Any of you two hurt?"

"No, not badly," I say. My heart's slamming in my chest. My palms are getting sweaty from nervousness. "We're walking outside now."

"What do you see?"

"Some sort of countryside. There's fields in the distance. Doesn't look like anyone has been here in the past years," I say. "Neither do I see the other man."

"Okay. I want you two to stay there. If that man approaches, you start running. Keep. Your. Phone. With. You."

"I w—" and then it's out of my hands. I gasp as I get jerked away from Thomas. My back slams against something hard. I feel my windpipe block before I can even tell what's happening.

Austin has his hand wrapped around my throat, and a knife pointed directly at Thomas. "You, don't move," he tells him.

His hand clamps tighter around my throat, and I gasp another time. Desperate for air already, I claw at his hand, but all he does is tighten his grip. I try to breathe— it comes out as a choke. I try to kick him away. I scratch his hand with my nails. I try to pull it away, but he's pressing me against the wall of the mall so hard that it's impossible to get him off me.

My heartbeat's thundering in my ears when Thomas takes a slow step forward, each pulse of my heart starting fading away.

"I will kill you both if you take one more step," Austin threatens. He moves the knife closer to Thomas.

Dark dots start appearing at the edges of my sight. I reach out to Austin's face, pressing my fingers in my eyes while tears are streaming from mine. He yells out. With a shake of his head, he gets me back off.

In that exact second, Thomas took his chance to reach out and throw the knife out of Austin's hands. It slices straight into the man's arm before it falls to the ground.

Thomas grabs my arm, pulling both of us to the fields. I still feel half-dying, with a blurry vision. The fresh air entering my body feels like cuts in my throat. "Come on. Run." Thomas pulls my arm again. I wanted to take my phone from the wet, muddy ground, but he keeps on dragging me until I'm finally running.

Holding each other's wrists, we sprint onto the countryside, up a hill that's full with grass. I know that I won't be able to run for long after all these days, then being choked , and then wasting even more air by how fast we're going.

"Come on." Thomas takes us down on the other side of the hill. I would've tripped had it not been for him holding me.

Then our eyes meet the cornfields, and I realize.

These are the cornfields behind our house. I knew about an abandoned mall but had never been in there before. I was too busy making the call with the police that I didn't notice how close to home we are.

But that's weird. Why would they hide us so close home? How far away had that factory been? Maybe if that was very far, no one would expect us to be that close later on.

Whatever— it's about running now. "My house," I pant, "is like a mile away from here."

We enter one of the cornfields, and I panic.

You can never ever enter these, Lyndon's words echo in my mind. So much can happen—

Thomas and I have already apart.

I keep running straight forward. Sticks and plants hit my face. Cut my skin. Make it harder for me to run through. All the things lying on the ground eventually make me trip.

A scream leaves my mouth as the pain shoots through my ankle. Why. Why does it have to go wrong?

I do my best to get up, but it's so painful. Jumping on one foot doesn't make much progress. Maybe if I just stay low and wait, someone will eventually appear.

To catch my breath, I lie down on my back. My chest is moving at a rapid speed as I wait.

Someone does appear, but not who I wanted it to be.

I roll away right before Austin manages to wrap his hand around my throat again. It's a time-wasting struggle to get up and start running again. I barely can run with my ankle, but it's that or dying.

The knife in his hand sweeps across the back of my leg right before I start making more pace. I do my best to go as fast as I can, pushing plants away and yelling for help. If I keep running forward, the field will eventually vanish. So I keep doing that.

Will it, though? I don't want to think about all Lyndon's warnings. Just gotta keep running.