𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒥𝓊𝒹𝑒,

╰┈➤ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎

𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝟷𝟹𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟷

𝙰𝚝𝚕𝚊𝚜

Left.

Right.

Right.

Left.

Through the back door.

Up the ladder.

Over the yard.

The mantra echoed in my head, a constant chorus. I pictured every chipped wall, the worn rungs of the ladder, the uneven ground beneath my feet. I felt it all as if I were there...

Left. Right. Right. Left....

Through the back door.

Up the ladder.

Over the yard.

My finger traced patterns across the ceiling as I lay there, mapping out our plan. Ten days had given me a lot to think about—how we were going to do this, how we were going to escape. The plan was simple, but we just needed the perfect timing to decrease any likelihoods of being caught.

Left... Right... Right... Left... Through the back door... Up the ladder... Over the yard...

We had only one chance to escape, and it had to be perfect. With each moment confined to this room, the need to seize every second grew. Time was precious. Every lost second pushed freedom further away.

Because the moment I was out of here, our plan would officially begin.

__________________

"Atlas," a soft voice interrupted, cutting through my concentration.

Left... Right... Right... Left... Through the back door... Up the ladder... Over the yard...

"Atlas," the voice repeated, more urgent this time. I flinched, the mental chorus of the escape route dissolving on my tongue. Reality slammed back, harsh and unwelcome, like a door slamming shut.

Kailee stood at the doorway, her eyes wide with concern, her silhouette framed by the dim hallway light. Confused, I scrambled up from the floor, wincing as pain shot through my limbs, and shuffled towards her.

"Kailee?" I croaked, my voice barely more than a whisper, dry and raspy from disuse.

My vision was a mess, a swirling kaleidoscope of pain behind my bruised and swollen eyes. The escape route I had painstakingly mapped out in my head vanished like smoke. I blinked rapidly, trying to focus, as I pushed myself off the cold, hard floor. The room spun slightly, the aftereffects of the beating I had taken making every small movement a challenge.

The tension in the room was palpable, sending waves of anxiety through me. How bad did I actually look? My hands instinctively reached up to touch my face, but in the darkness, I couldn't see my own reflection. The skin around my eyes throbbed, and I could feel the jagged gashes under my fingertips.

"You know it's rude not to knock," I tried to joke, forcing a weak smile, but Kailee didn't laugh. Her silence was more unsettling than the darkness. I knew it was bad.

"Give it to him, Kailee," a low murmur rumbled from behind her. I whipped my head around, searching for the source, but the doorway was empty.

A soft metal clatter hit the ground, and I knew she'd brought food. It was always the same routine—a single can of lukewarm stew, offered every three days as punishment for defying Doris's rules. The metallic clang reverberated through the room.