Plan Gone Way-Ward?

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Plan Gone Way-Ward?

"I assume your dad is not here. I assume Caroline was sick of the twins moping to she left too, leaving just the twins. They both sleep for 9 hours. Eleven to eight in the morning. Do you have any sense of time in here?" I ask Cedric.

He grins. He pulls a patch of foam off the wall.

"I stole this one day when I was 14 from the history classroom."

I look through the peephole. It's a 24-hour hourglass.

"So, how long have we been in here?"

"A week and twelve hours. It should be Wednesday at 10 in the evening. "

I nod and get back to my plan.

"We are on the eighth floor. The twins are two floors up. I cannot eat for at least two days. Nothing can be in my system. I need to make them believe that I had no idea where I was. That I just woke up. It has to be while they're asleep. Ruining their routine is a must. They are too dangerous in sync. You guys need to find uniforms and get to the courtyard. You have to get to the basement. Find a light source. The best place to hide would be the tunnel. You guys will have to be there for at least three days. You can worry about me if I'm not there in five. You need to keep your energy. Bring food or water if you have to. I promise I'll get down there. You guys really have to trust me."

"I'm fine with it. He won't be. Sitting doing nothing isn't how he rolls."

I roll my eyes. "If he wants to save those kids. Let's do it."

...

It took an entire day of me not eating and ignoring them to prove to Niel that I am serious about this.

We've gone through the details.

Niel gave me a compass.

In 24 hours. It's go time. I get to rest.

...

I stay quiet throughout the day. I need to mentally prepare myself.

I need to go back. Back to her.

I walk into the bathroom and stare in the mirror.

I'm starting to get worry lines. I close my eyes and breathe.

"Respire Saffron Respire." Speaking in French usually calms me.

I have to make it sound believable, "sono l'angioletto prezioso di papà."

It sounds so weird when I speak Italian. I have a North American accent. It is easier to get a French tinge when I speak French, but I sound like an American speaking Italian even though I am fluent.

I stare in the mirror. I stare into my eyes. I think of every sad and horrifying thing I've endured. I watch the tears stream down my face.

When enough tears fall, I wait for them to dry.

I walk out of the room.

The boys look at me worried, causing me to silently chuckle.

I pick up the board and write one word.

'Bruises.'

Cedric backs out while Nathaniel finally helps me out. We enter the bathroom. He puts gloves on. We can risk his DNA on me.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks me.

"I would do it myself, but my brain literally stops me before I make contact. This is easy. Pretend it's like the pillows-"

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