Lynell reaches for Daniel, gaze fixed on the large black car that just crashed right into the guard.

Zachary Elysian is leaning out the window.

“Get in.”

DAY 11

Anna didn’t cry when she was born. Lynell was scared she was dead. Really, the umbilical cord was wrapped around her throat. When they untangled it, Anna let out a loud and beautiful scream. Lynell smiled, then passed out, dreaming about returning home to Daniel.

When she awoke, Mother Adella let her see Anna. Lynell cried when she held Anna, who slept soundly, wrapped in a soft gray blanket.

“I change my mind,” Lynell had said, looking down at Anna’s soft, perfect face. “I want to keep her.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mother Adella said, reaching down for Anna.

“No!” Lynell yelled. Anna stirred and whined but didn’t wake up. “She’s my baby. Mine. I want to keep her. I want to be a family. Please, let me be a family. Let me be a family.”

But Mother Adella took Anna away.

The clunky black clock on the nightstand flashes “1:42 a.m.” in bright green numbers. Lynell turns to look at Daniel lying next to her. The sheets pull against her shoulder as she reaches up to hold a hand over his face, feeling each puff of hot breath. His eyes move under his lids, lost in a dream.

Satisfied that he’s still alive, Lynell climbs off the bed, draping the covers back as she does. The floorboards creak under her feet, and she holds her breath, moving on her tiptoes until she’s out of the room and the door is shut behind her.

“Can’t sleep?” Zach asks from his seat at the kitchen table. He wraps his hands around a mug and lifts it to his lips.

She shrugs and sits next to him. “Don’t know if I ever will again.”

“Want some warm milk?” he asks, gesturing to the mug.

Lynell grimaces. “Sounds disgusting.”

“It’s supposed to help you sleep.”

Lynell shakes her head and leans back in the chair. She stretches her legs and closes her eyes. She can still feel Daniel’s blood on her hand as she held pressure on the injury in his shoulder where the bullet had grazed him. A superficial flesh wound, painful but not life threatening. Knowing that did nothing to ease the terror in Lynell’s chest. His moans of pain as Zach sped through the streets still ring in her ears.

The silence stretches on, and Lynell opens her eyes. She quirks an eyebrow at Zach, watching the way his eyes take in every exposed bruise and bandaged part of her body. Her skin flushes and she clears her throat, wishing she hadn’t left the small bedroom behind.

“Look, I—”

“Where are we?” she interrupts.

Zach closes his mouth and drops his head into his hands, letting out a deep breath. “Some old lady’s apartment. A boarding school buddy’s grandmother. Dad doesn’t know about it. Doesn’t even know we were friends, much less that I know about his dead grandma’s empty apartment. We’re safe here.”