CHAPTER 12
Her voice.
Her blonde hair.
Her amber eyes.
The mole under her left eye.
They come back all at once. Not in order. Not gently.
Ashlynn runs to me.
There's no hesitation. No pause to check if it's allowed. She hits my chest and wraps her arms around me like she's afraid I'll vanish if she doesn't hold on.
I catch her.
My arms close around her before I think to stop them. The contact is solid. Immediate. Human. Her weight presses into me, knocks the breath out of my lungs.
My heart stutters—hard, off-beat.
I don't understand why.
For a moment, the space around us loosens its grip. The corridor, the doors, the noise—none of it matters. There is only this: her arms, her heat, the way she fits too easily against me.
I hold her tighter than I need to.
She exhales against my coat. The sound isn't loud, but it shakes.
My hands stay where they are.
Too long.
I know this.
I don't move them.
Then she pulls back.
Her hands leave my coat slowly. She looks up at me, searching, like she's checking whether I am real—or whether she is.
"I didn't see how it started," she says. Her voice is rough. "I was still in my cell."
I listen.
"There were guards in the corridor. Standing close. Then they left."
She swallows.
"Then prisoners came. From outside."
Her shoulders rise, then fall. "It was fast."
"They opened the cells. Ours first. Then the rest."
Her fingers twitch, restless.
"Everyone ran."
She looks at me again.
Waiting.
I don't know what to say.
So I stay quiet.
And when I take her hand this time, I do it deliberately.
I turn slightly so Ashlynn can see Gary.
"This is Gary," I say.
He's a step back, injured hand wrapped tight, coat worn like it's older than him.
Gary lifts his good hand. "Hi."
Ashlynn's eyes drop to the bandage. "You're bleeding."
"Yeah," he says. "Usually I'm complete."
She looks at me. Then back at him.
"You got him here?"
"He got himself here," Gary says. "I just didn't stop him."
A pause.
"Thank you," she says.
Gary shifts, uncomfortable. "We should move. The prison is awake."
That's enough.
I nod.
Gary leads the way. We follow.
We move through the corridor and reach a familiar door on the branching right.
"This goes to the hallway," I say.
"Yes. We can go down through here," Gary says.
He opens the door.
The T-section. Third-floor hallway.
The floor is covered in the mix of blood and black liquid. Bodies everywhere. Faceless guards. Prisoners. But mostly faceless guards. It smells of rot for something seemingly happened very recent.
We step through them and stop near the center.
The air feels thinner the longer we stand still.
Gary exhales.
"It went differently in my head," he says, concern flickering across his face.
He pauses.
"I was expecting a different scene." He smirks.
Silence. Awkward.
Ashlynn steps forward, breaking it. "Okay. Then how do we call the elevator?"
"You can't," Gary says. He shrugs. "It hasn't worked in a week."
Then he points toward an open door along the wall.
"Through that one."
We move.
Stairs. Up and down. Footprints everywhere going upward. Noises can be heard echoing from upstairs. Blood smeared along the edges. All of it recent.
"We need to reach the fifth floor. Quickly," Gary says.
"Why?" I ask.
"Prisoners go up." He says.
A beat.
"Wardens go down."