At the End of Everything, page 4
The camera lights still blink, but if we’re only being observed from a distance, that hardly matters now, does it? Unless… “Grace, do you think this is a test of some sort? A psychological experiment to see what we’ll do?”
I read about prison experiments in school. Why else would they leave?
Reid scrunches up his face. “There’s no way that’s legal.”
“Oh, like that’s ever stopped them,” Grace comments from inside. She pokes her head out. “Nothing’s here. No sign of why they’re gone or where. No letters or notes. No hot coffee either. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here all night.”
She tosses a candy bar my way, and I barely manage to grab it.
“Eat up,” she says. “You look peaky.”
I stare at it, not hungry in the slightest.
“There’s no one on patrol either?” Reid asks. One of the boys who followed Reid has turned and is spreading the word. At a small gesture from Hunter, two others run into opposite directions.
“Not in our wings,” Grace says. “Presumably not in yours either, and I can’t imagine everyone’s hiding up north.”
“I have a few people checking the premises,” Hunter says, walking up to all of us—but especially me. He’s a lanky white boy with dirty-blond hair and sharp cheekbones. He stops next to me and places an arm around my shoulders. When he leans in, I can feel the hilt of a knife press into my side. No doubt he feels me tense up immediately.
He smiles at me. His voice is musical and smooth as honey. “We were planning to have fun tonight, but I did not expect the night to be this good.”
I must’ve squirmed, because Grace steps forward. “Lay off, Hunter. You’re a creep.”
Hunter lets go of me, and I stumble backward. It happens so fast, it takes my brain a second or two to catch up. He grabs Grace by the arm and twists her with such force, she goes crashing into the wall. Before she can pull back or defend herself, he is on her, and I see the flicker of a blade near her chin. While she inches away from the knife, he licks his lips. With the same charismatic voice, he says, “I’m happy to remind you of the rules here. But for tonight, it seems, we have more important issues at hand.”
She swallows.
“Understood?”
“Yes.”
He flicks his knife up in the air and catches it deftly as he gives Grace some breathing room again. She doesn’t immediately move. She clings to the wall like it’s the only thing that keeps her standing, and I’m fairly sure I’m the only one who sees a whole roller coaster of emotions play out across her face. Fear. Anger. Heartbreak.
She pushes herself up and brushes her hands on her pajama pants, and whatever mask she wears slips back into place. Only the shadows in her eyes remain. “What is your plan then, oh wise and magnanimous leader of all of us lowly folk?”
Hope buzzes with stories about Hunter. Stories that even I’ve heard. Stories that he killed another boy without reason or provocation. That he’s unpredictable and dangerous.
I believe everyone always has a reason for their actions. But when I see the glint in his eyes, I also believe the dangerous part.
“Well, it seems to me, with no one here to stop us, tonight might be an excellent time for a midnight stroll. We may not even want to come back.”
Even Reid blinks at that.
“You want to break out?” Grace’s voice rises two incredulous octaves.
“Those are such strong words. Let’s call it an excursion. We’ll see where it leads.”
I clear my throat. “Have fun.”
“Oh, no.” Hunter sounds obnoxiously pleased with himself. “Can’t leave witnesses behind. You’re coming with, of course.” He turns to Reid. “Go wake the twins too. I don’t want to think about what happens to them without our protection here.”
Reid flicks him a salute of sorts. “Sure thing.”
“No.” For the first time tonight, fear is apparent in Grace’s voice, and it echoes exactly how I feel. “Do you know will happen to us if we’re caught breaking out? I want a life after this, Hunter. I want a future.”
“And I’m providing you with one,” Hunter says, like it’s entirely reasonable to suggest escaping prison. “If our wonderful zookeepers at Better Futures wanted us to remain here, they would’ve guarded us better. Haven’t we been taught to reach for opportunities? This is one.”
Grace’s nostrils flare. “I won’t stand in your way.”
“You won’t, because you’re coming with.”
“Then let me at least get—”
“No.”
“Hunter…” Grace is tense all over. Her eyes are frantic.
“Yes?” There’s a challenge in Hunter’s voice. He glances at his two remaining bodyguards, who haven’t said a word at all but who are both taller and stronger than Grace and I.
Grace’s resistance drops. “Fuck you.”
“I knew you’d see reason.” He smiles, and all I can think about is the good Catholic girl who would never have been in this situation. Who would have prayed for protection and deliverance from this boy and his dangerous plans.
But I am here. And I can’t pray. Not anymore.
Five
Logan
Being woken up in the middle of the night isn’t part of our routine. I hate it. Having someone else in our room in the middle of the night is even worse. I see the shadow hanging over me, feel the hand on my shoulder, and I want to scream and scramble, but my brain overloads and the only option I have is to tremble.
Don’t touch me.
On the other side of the room, Leah leaps out of bed. The long-sleeved shirt she’s using as a pajama top billows around her. She scowls. “Get out.” She pushes the shadow away and comes to my rescue like she always does. She crouches next to me and holds out a hand.
I stare at it, and my hands twitch and flap. She doesn’t make a move. She doesn’t react to the voice in the background. She waits. And when I reach out and grab her hand, she squeezes. I cling to her. I cling to what is left of me.
Don’t ever let me go.
My breathing eases, and the familiar sights and sounds soothe me. The uncomfortable bed with its ratty mattress. The near constant dripping of the faucet in the corner. The tears in the walls. The torn-up school library book I signed out loud to Leah before we went to sleep.
Reid.
Oh.
I pull back from Leah and glance at the boy in our room. “Why is he here?” I sign.
She narrows her eyes but doesn’t turn around. “Good question. Reid, why are you here?”
“Hunter wants to see you.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“The guards are gone. He wants to get out.”
And with that, Leah stills. It’s not the same kind of freezing that I experience, but I recognize it all the same. Too many possibilities, too many feelings, too many thoughts all mashed up against each other. She breathes out deeply and closes her eyes, and for once, I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
“Out out?” she asks, quietly.
“Hunter doesn’t want to leave you on your own here.”
He doesn’t think we’ll make it, most likely. He doesn’t think I’ll make it.
But we can’t.
I push myself up in sitting position, my knees up to my chest and the blanket up to my chin, and nudge Leah. She glances up at me, and I can see a spark in her eyes. A dangerous glint I’ve seen before. “We can’t,” I sign. “We’ll get in trouble.”
It was the very first thing they told us. The doors inside remain open. The doors to the outside remain closed. That doesn’t change because the guards aren’t here.
“Don’t you want to see the world again?” Leah asks softly.
“I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“If there’s no one here, no one can find out,” she says. It reminds me a little too much of the conversation we had right before we torched the warehouse. Don’t you want revenge? she’d asked me.
Someone was there. Someone did find out. Someone nearly died.
But I went along with it then. I’ll go along with it now. She knows that. She always does.
“I don’t like it.”
“I’ll take care of you.”
She always does too.
“Where will we go?”
She turns to Reid, who doesn’t—can’t—understand my question. Only Leah knows the language we speak.
“Where will we go?” she repeats. Her voice cracks, and she coughs.
He shrugs. “Wherever Hunter wants to go, I guess. Are you getting dressed?”
“Get out then,” she says. “Yes.”
He places himself outside the door, and I start my morning routine at night. Get dressed. Brush my teeth. Brush my hair. I can’t help but wonder about his answer. We’ll go wherever Hunter does. Because I recognize that feeling.
I’ll go wherever Leah does.
* * *
Reid takes us to the center’s entrance hall and the heavy-duty doors that separate us from the outside world. We’ve only ever used them once. Only to enter, never to leave. Hunter is there with his crew. Six of them in total, including Maverick and Reid. Emerson is there, crouched down and staring at the floor, alongside Grace.
Hunter lights up when he sees us. He always does. Leah says it’s because I make him think of his sister, and we should encourage that side of him.
I think it only makes him more dangerous.
“If it isn’t my favorite sisters in this building.” He steps toward us, and I take a step back. It’s habit. It’s instinct when faced with a predator. His mask slips for a second, before he throws an arm over Leah’s shoulder, and I’m the only one who sees that she cringes.
“Are you ready for the wide, open outside?” he asks.
I’m not, but thankfully it’s not like he expects me to answer him.
“Always!” Leah plasters on a smile, while Emerson frowns. I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s uncertain about this.
“Fine, whatever, let’s do this,” Grace says. “Since it’s not like we have a choice or whatever.” Before anyone can stop her, she pushes open the door, and we all suck in a deep breath.
The door gives.
It creaks and it’s heavy and the only thing I can think about is how definitive it sounded when it closed behind us—but now it’s opening. Slowly. Until Hunter snaps his fingers and three of the boys on his crew jump forward to push, and the door swings open wide.
It isn’t quite as simple as one door. Behind it is a small registration desk, for visitors and lawyers to announce themselves before they’re guided to the reception area, where tall windows let in more sky than we ever see inside. But this door is the one that locks us in. Or did, at least.
Now it’s open. No one on the other side can stop us.
“So now what?” Emerson asks, eyes wide open, fists clenched.
“Do you have a home to go to, new kid?” Hunter asks, not unkindly.
Emerson shakes their head.
“In that case, the first step is out of this godforsaken place, and you can figure out the rest from there.” With that, Hunter steps through, dragging Leah with him. I follow without hesitation, because I always have, and so does everyone else. All ten of us.
Hunter quickens his pace. Reid follows. Before long, we’re all running, like we’re in a movie. Even me, though I’m not sure what we’ll find outside. Past the metal detectors. Out of the other set of doors.
Outside.
Outside.
Outside.
There’s a world outside. We all stop and breathe because we haven’t seen it in weeks or months or even years.
Hope Juvenile Treatment Center lies amid a small clearing. A piece of elevated grasslands between the wild oak and hickory trees and mountain ranges of the Ozarks. It could be a wilderness camp too, cut off from all kinds of civilization, surrounded by endless world.
We run out. Into the cold night. Off the dirt road that leads to Hope. Onto the grass that’s soft underneath our feet. I stumble. I let myself fall, hands first, to feel it. I’m not the only one either. Meanwhile, Emerson has dropped to their knees and is clutching their stomach like they’re about to throw up. Grace stands outside the door, and she’s staring up at the stars—the stars. An owl hoots in one of the trees, and Maverick whoops loudly in response.
“Freedom!”
Hunter cuffs him across the head, but he’s grinning too. “Quiet. We’re still too close to that hellhole. Let’s keep going.”
None of us want to move. We want to sit here and breathe in the crisp, free air. I want to stick close to what I know. Maverick and Colton—boys in Hunter’s crew—are laughing about a raunchy joke. Grace is still staring up at the sky like she wants to memorize every star and every cloud and every inch of darkness. I don’t look up. The endless sky and the thousands of lights overwhelm me.
Leah crouches down next to me, and the way she smiles at me aches. “We can go anywhere from here, if we stick together,” she says. “If we keep going, we never have to worry about social services or being separated.”
“We’d still have to eat and find a place to sleep.”
She shakes her head. “I thought about it. All we have to do is cross the state lines. Find another city to live in. Be more careful than we were before, and never lose sight of each other.”
“Live on the streets again?”
“Not for long. I’ll find a job. I’ll provide for us.”
I have no clue what that would look like. After our granddad died and we had nowhere to go, we’d hole up in empty buildings and dream together. Of a small apartment with a dozen cats. I could do administrative work and Leah could find a waitressing job, and at the end of the day, it would be the two of us together, and we’d be happy.
I don’t think anyone will hire two girls who set fire to a building with people in it.
I don’t know what the world holds.
But I reach for Leah’s hand, and we cling to each other, and I don’t tell her how afraid I am. Hope is structured. We have a roof over our head and food to eat every day. Our teacher doesn’t shout at Leah when she can’t keep up with reading, doesn’t shout at me when I don’t speak up in class. It may be cruel, but the world is cruel too.
We sit until Hunter comes to fetch us. He sees us holding hands and smiles at Leah. “You’re good to her,” he says.
She frowns a little. “We’re good to each other.”
He smirks. “Of course. We’ll have to keep moving.”
Once he turns his back, I make a disgusted sound, deep in my throat, and sign viciously, “I hate him.”
“Hush, you.” Leah smacks at my hands, but she smiles.
Even in the little while since we sat down here, the sky’s grown darker. It’s well past midnight. Well past any sort of witching hour. All is quiet when we follow the dirt road out of here. Or at least quiet compared to Hope. Another owl hoots in the distance, and I hear rustling off the path, like a rat or a possum.
I kick at some fallen leaves. “Do you think the others will leave Hope too?” Tonight, tomorrow, whenever. If for some reason the guards don’t come back.
Leah glances at the buildings slowly disappearing behind us and shrugs. “Dunno. I imagine they will once they realize the guards are gone.”
“The other teens?” Emerson says from my other side. They still have their arms wrapped around their chest. “I can’t imagine anyone choosing to stay at Hope. That is, unless the guards show up again in the morning. I don’t know what’ll happen if they do. I don’t know what’ll happen to us.”
I raise my eyebrows, and Emerson colors. They glance back between the two of us. “I figured you were talking about everyone who’s left,” they say.
I nod, but I can feel Leah tense next to me.
“We were having a private conversation,” she snaps.
Emerson colors deeper. It makes them look almost purple in the little light we have, and I elbow Leah.
“It’s okay. Do you think that’ll happen? Do you think the guards will come back?”
Emerson watches my signs carefully and then turns to Leah. I have to elbow her again before she begrudgingly translates.
“I don’t know,” Emerson says. “They seemed distracted all day, so maybe something is wrong? If we’re lucky, we’ll never find out.” They furrow their brow. “I saw one of you sneak out with paper, right? That’s not something you can usually do.”
I nod. They’re right about that, but the guards were distracted.
Leah’s eyes widen. “Did you?”
“Nia was running out,” I explain. It only makes me wonder if she’ll escape too. And if it’s easier for us to try than it would be for her.
“You can’t get caught with those.” Leah sighs. “And she can’t either. It will only make life harder for her.”
“But I was trying to help.”
Leah closes her eyes and sighs. “I know, but it doesn’t work like that. We’re not treated equally.”
Nia is at Hope for larceny and resisting arrest, because someone thought she tried to shoplift—even though she never really stole anything. Meanwhile, Leah and I have been caught with stolen food or pads more than once, but we never got anything more than a stern talking to, as Leah put it. Even at Hope, the guards pay more attention to Nia than they do to us. It doesn’t sound like justice to me.
Something of my outrage must have been visible on my face, because Emerson nods. “It isn’t fair.”
“It isn’t.” Leah turns to the road ahead. “It’ll be better out there.”
“Will it?”
“It has to be.”
If nothing else, under the countless stars, it’s certainly brighter. We make it a mile or so away from Hope when the dirt road takes a sharp turn toward the mountains.
