Get Out If You Can

Emilie | Once Upon A Time

Diego types some commands into the computer, a lot of windows popping up here and there on the screen. I wonder if I'd ever meet anyone who's just as smart as he appears to be — and most probably is.

This place surprises me with every second I spend here. For one, I thought Hunter was a shallow guy with no real 'thing' to him. Turns out he's more than that. I'd thought Alison was, well — the jock. She's not. She's brilliant. Though she's a bit — scratch that, she's extremely — reckless, she knows how to piece things together. I knew Diego was smart all along, so watching him do things here like he's been doing them all this time is no real surprise.

And then we have Matt. he's basically everything I never thought he was. He's annoying, he tries too hard to be funny, and he uses humor as his defense mechanism, but apart from that, he's good at things. He knows how to make someone laugh, even if it's only mentally, in a tough situation. He knows how to treat basic cuts, something I've never bothered to learn. He's got a little bit of sense, too — more than what I thought he had, at least.

And, last but definitely not the least, he looks great.

"You're done yet?" I ask Diego, edging closer, my nails creating patterns in the dust as they scrape the old wood of the table. This room, Tenor, has got something the others haven't – it's got more of a modern architecture look, with a musty smell that pairs surprisingly well with the tone.

"Yeah, sort of," he says, banging his fist lightly on the table. A cloud of dust rises and falls, causing my nose to itch. "This computer is so old, honestly."

"Naturally," I say, shrugging. "This entire place is unbelievably old. I mean, look at those chandeliers – they're not exactly recent, are they?"

He doesn't answer – he's way too busy with whatever he's up to. I watch as several 'loading' screens open up, each one slower and more complicated than the next. Finally, a new window opens. This one has something that looks very much like a timeline.

"What is that?" Matt asks, looking at the screen over Diego's shoulder. He's literally got to stand on his toes to do that. "Wait, that's not a timeline?"

"A timeline?" Alison exclaims, exchanging a disbelieving look with Hunter. "These people – or rather, this person – did go all out, didn't they?"

"I'll say this for them," Diego says, pulling out the carved armchair placed in the hollow of the table, "they're great at presentation. Mom would be..."

He says nothing more. Neither does anybody else.

There's a moment of loud silence. And it's justified. I steal a glance at Diego – and it hurts me more than physical pain. His face contorts painfully into a longing grimace, and then, like it never happened, he conceals it.

"This – this is shitty, right?" Alison says, a weird crack in her voice.

"No shit, Sherlock." Matt rolls his eyes. "I mean, you guys have families to go back to, I get it. But cut the drama, okay?"

"It's shitty," Alison continues, and I think I spot a cleverly concealed tear welling at the corner of her eye. I can't blame her. If we never get back home, if we never get back to the people who love us — well, will we even be able to think about the ifs? No, we won't.

Do I miss Maman and Papa?

Yes. Yes, I do. I'm an idiot, that's what I am. Scenes play in my head as the lump in my throat threatens to consume me – scenes where I yell and scream for new clothes, scenes where I refuse to listen to how they cannot afford to buy me what Kat has, scenes where I'm too embarrassed to go to a party because I won't be wearing the haute-couture styles that the crowd – my crowd – would be seen in.