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I stare at a new mirror someone’s come in and hung in the bathroom, holding the edges of the sink. Kicking the door closed with my foot, I stare at the glass and think of my family.
Sam will come back to them, bruised and beaten, their mother still missing somewhere below the earth. Maybe if Dean takes me, I could barter for their freedom.
I’m back to square one again, running to Dean for help. He’s the guy in class helping me with schoolwork, the one working on our farm so we don’t starve after dad left, and sending me messages promising survival when the storms raged toward us. I walked down the dirt path with a cart of supplies and a shotgun, heading to his Jeep not all that long ago.
We’re two souls in orbit, no matter how far I run, no matter how much it pains me.
He’s inescapable.
Holding back the sob that’s stuck in my throat, I switch the faucet on, hoping it drowns out my tears. I watch the water run down the drain, unable to face myself anymore.
The sound of Alex throwing the ball still thumps in the other room, and I grip the metal sink so hard it might bend. A silent scream erupts in my throat, but I keep my mouth closed, muffling the sound.
He’s worse than the fucking storms, and he’s coming.
“Mama,” I hear.
Their voice makes the sob escape, and hot tears fall down my cheeks.
“B-BeLew,” I say, looking at the sink like it’s some damn portal. There’s a chance I’m losing my mind, but I don’t care anymore. I’m about to lose everything.
“Mama,” Beau says. It’s louder, right in front of me, and I straighten, staring at their faces in the mirror.
“Boys,” I place my hands on the glass, running my palms over the smooth edges. “Boys, can you see me? Are you safe? Is Sam with you?”
“Mama,” Lewis says. He moves closer to the mirror, letting me only see the top of his face, his messy blonde hair taking over the reflection. “Go up, not down.”
“What?” I look at Beau, still running my hands over the images of them, wishing I could touch them.
“Go up!” Beau says, and then they’re gone.
Everything’s gone.
The rooms gone black.
“Rowan,” Alex yells from the bedroom. Items crash from outside, and I feel for the door handle, smacking into him when I get it open.
Every light is out, the space painted in pitch black except for his tablet that blinks red on the floor, sending a crimson shadow across the wall.
It’s eerily familiar.
A red light blinks from under the door, giving us glimpses of sight and my eyes struggle to adjust. Alex moves away from me, almost tripping on the ball he was throwing moments ago, and bangs a few times on the door.
“Hey, you know what that means,” he yells. “Let us out.”
He bangs a few more times, but no one answers. “Fuck!” he says.
“What does it mean?” I yell. “What’s going on?”
“It’s a call to the holding cells,” he explains, struggling to dress. I find a worn jumpsuit on the floor, which I put on backward the first time.
“The jail where they kept me?” I ask.
Alex doesn’t answer, and I can only assume he’s nodding in between the flickers of light.
“It’s a red out,” I say in sudden understanding.
“How do you know what that is?” Alex asks. “You know what? I don’t want to know.” He slams his fists on the door again. “Hey. You’re disobeying the Eminent. Nothing overrides a red out, assholes.”
