Page 57 of Dollhouse

Mostly, I just wonder if I’ve made Noah proud. I feel like a Finch now.

Bo peers around the corner and nods, my hand still clutching his for dear life as we dart down another near pitch-black hallway.

“I think we're underground, we need to go up. There is no way we are going out through the garage without getting caught, but maybe there’s a ground floor window we can break.”

I nod, thankful he’s here to take the reins. There’s a buzzing in my head that’s making thinking hard. I can barely look up, instead focusing on his shoes as we move because the anxiety feels like a heart attack in my chest.

I spit again as we run, the taste of the dead man's blood in my mouth making me want to vomit.

Freshly furious, I pull myself back out of the disassociation, only to realize that Bo’s limp is getting noticeably worse with each step. He’s hurt, and who knows how badly. I can’t get him help until we find a way out of this hell hole. “Bo, let me go first.”

I pull his arm over my shoulder, trying to stabilize his worst side. We shuffle forward to another set of double doors. Surely this place has cameras? Where is everyone?

Bo peeks through the glass, eyes widening. “I can see a door at the end of the hallway, there’s grass out there. We’re almost there, Em.” His eyes catch mine and for the first time in days, there’s a spark in them. “Stay close. If we can get out, we’ll just keep going as far as we can.”

I nod, scared to let the hope balloon in my chest, but it happens anyway. “I’ve got you, lean on me a little more.”

We adjust him until his leg can bear him up, then our eyes meet. I’m sure I have blood on my face, and both of us are covered in the evidence of our trauma. I feel like I’ve never seen him so clearly as I do right now, right as we balance helplessly on the edge of either escaping or…dying.

“I love you,” I say, trying to make the words sound strong. Hopeful.

Maybe he hears the true message, though. That if we die in whatever’s about to happen to us, at least we had a chance for our hearts to say their goodbyes.

He licks his lips, pulling my head to his mouth to kiss my forehead. Somehow it makes the crack in my sanity worse. I justwant to be alone with him. To hold him. To make sure he knows just how much he means to me before someone kills us both.

“Love you, Em.” The look in his eyes is enough to tell me that he’s also hanging on by a thread. “Let’s go.”

He elbows the door open, taking a deep, shaky breath before looking around the corner.

Now I can see the small square of grass on the far side of the door at the end of the hall. It’s right there and in my mind, I see us bashing through the glass and running as far as we can for an imaginary tree line. Maybe we’d stumble upon a stranger’s house, and someone would call for help.

We’re so close.

I don’t hear the bullet until it’s already hit Bo in the back and a splash of red sprays across my shocked face. He turns to look at me in what feels like slow motion, that same shock in his eyes. Almost like he thinksI’mthe one that’s been hit. But I’m not, and he looks down when the pain must register to see the wound passing through his shoulder

His eyes lock on mine and I think I’m screaming, but who knows, because my entire world narrows to the blood escaping Bo’s body. Hands grip around my chest, guards dragging me away. Several grab him, pulling him in the other direction.

Away from me.

Panic invades every nerve in my body, and I fight with a strength I didn’t know I had left. I scratch and bash my head into the men touching me, then bite a third, screaming and screaming until my throat feels as if glass shards have lodged there.

Bo’s wide eyes slide from me to the blood that swipes a vivid crimson path along the floor, a drag path from my worst nightmares.

Screams turn to sobs when I can no longer see him.

“Bo!” I scream, a half wail that comes from the deepest part of me that can still feel something after everything that’s happened. He’s gone, he’s shot, I’m losing him.

I’velosthim.

Alone. I wail from the loss, a heavy, wracking noise that is pure mourning, until my mouth is duct taped shut and I’m bound once more, dragged by my wrists behind the two men as we pass down a hallway with cages lining each side. Inside are more people, women and girls, boys and a few men, all beaten, all subdued. Watching as I fight.

The horror mounts inside me til I fear I'll go insane. How are there so many people here? How is this not in the news? How is this happening? I am terrified. The nightmare just continues, worse and worse until I feel like nothing will ever make sense again.

There's one hundred eyes on me as I sob my way down the hall, blood drying on my lips as the last pieces of my sanity slip to the floor behind me.

TWENTY-NINE

The truck rumbles beneath me,rattling my most recent injuries. They’d sure been thorough in pushing my body to its limits as punishment for killing their friend. This bench hurts, my voice a scratchy shadow of what it should be. If nothing’s broken it will be a miracle.