“You got this,” Daniel says.

Lynell nods to herself and starts climbing, careful to only use the unbroken fingers on her left hand. The strain is too close to her fingers, and pounding reverberations of pain flow through her arm. Daniel follows close behind. When she reaches the top, he presses his chest to her back and opens the hatch.

Lynell squints against the light as she climbs out, rolls onto her back, and takes a deep breath. Daniel follows close behind and closes the hatch. He drops next to her on the patch of grass and cradles her face with his hands.

“Lyn. Baby. Are you okay?”

She blinks and smiles slightly. “You saved me.”

Daniel lets out a choked laugh. “Yeah. But we have to go, Lynell. We can’t stay here.”

Lynell starts to sit, shaking as she does.

“It’s okay. I got you.” Daniel snakes his arms under her knees and her back again, lifting her up. “And I’m not letting go.” He holds her close. “Ever again.”

Daniel starts running and Lynell looks behind them in the direction they came. She can’t even see the Elysian house anymore or hear any signs of their escape. But she knows they’re coming. She knows they’ll probably never stop coming.

“We’re so young,” Lynell said, sitting on the toilet of their small apartment. Daniel knelt in front of her, holding onto her wrists. “We’re too young.” She looked down at their hands, at what she held.

“Yeah, we’re young,” Daniel said. He lifted one hand and placed the palm under her jaw. “But we’re together. In love.”

Lynell scoffed and shook her head, looking up at the ceiling. “That’s not enough, Danny.”

“It is. It can be! Lynell . . .” he moved his hand to the back of her neck and guided her face toward his. He stood up slightly so he could place his forehead against hers. “It can be enough, baby.”

Lynell sniffed again, curling her hands into tighter fists. She shook her head, feeling the familiar panic building in her toes and filling her body.

“It’s enough, Lynell. We’re enough. You’re enough.” He said it all with their faces pushed together, watching her closely. He gently gripped her neck, his fingers mixing into her hair.

“I’m not.” Her voice broke as she spoke, and she pulled her head away from Daniel’s. “I’m broken.”

“No . . .”

She nodded and stood. She began pacing the small bathroom, noticing every out-of-place detail. The toothpaste with a missing cap. The wad of hair that missed the wastebasket and had been sitting on the ground for at least a week. The thin layer of grime on their bathtub. Three hair bands littered the floor.

“You’re not,” Daniel said. She felt him watching her.

Her skin prickled, and her eyes filled with tears. She leaned down and grabbed two of the hair bands and tossed them in the trash. “It’s too messy. I’m too messy. Not clean. Not good. Not safe. Not enough.” She muttered the words under her breath, expecting a hand to fly in her direction at any moment, to connect with her face and send sparks blossoming behind her eyelids.