Chapter 27

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Recap:

"Now we match." He gestured to his own forehead and we both fell into a fit of laughter, the sound echoing off of the walls of the prison, brightening even the darkest corners of its cells.

When the last giggle settled into a sigh, he pulled me close once again and rested his forehead upon mine. When he spoke, the words were quiet and delicate, as if they could break in the air between us like dry twigs, ready to be burned in a fire.

"You've got to get me out of here, Emily... You've got to help me escape."

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" I will in all probability be convicted, but I will not go away as a monster, but as a tragedy."  

- Joel David Rifkin was sentenced to 203 years in prison for the murders of nine women between 1989 and 1993. He is believed to have killed up to 17 victims. After he killed his victims, he would dismember the bodies and place the parts in different locations. He is still alive and in prison today. 

Chapter 27

"Ex-excuse me?" I stammered, unable to form complete words. It was impossible to describe what I was feeling; every sense in my body was amplified, thrumming with nerves, but at the same time I felt complete numb. It was safe to say that shock ran through my veins like a high dose of heroine.

"If I stay here any longer, I'll die, Emily." Vans pleaded, holding my face in his rough hands.

"No." I shook my head, "There has to be another way!"

"If there was another way, don't you think this would all be resolved by now? Emily, we're tried to figure out who is at the heart of this, but we have found nothing that brings us any closer! I would not be asking this of you unless it was absolutely necessary."

"Vans," I grabbed his hands from my face and held them in my own, a crease deepening between my brows. "I can't break you out of here!" I whispered harshly, looking around to find the hallways were still empty.

"Yes you can, Emily! I know you can do it." He lowered his voice with mine and drew me close. I rested my head on his chest, heart still hammering, and was unsure of how I should have felt. It was nice to know he believed in me so much that he would trust me with his life, but the thought of becoming a criminal by breaking someone out of Gail was unthinkable, unimaginable.

"I don't think you understand. I have a life here, Vans. If I help you escape, I have to leave it all behind. My family, all the hard work and years of school and study that got me to where I am today, I would have to leave it all. I would have to run away, hide with you. There would be no turning back." My voice wavered as the full extent of my anxiety was revealed. He needed to understand how much he was asking of me to risk for him.

His chest heaved and he took a shaky step backwards, raking his hand through his hair. He swore under his breath and shuddered wiping a calloused hand over his face.

"You're right, Emily, I didn't think about that." He said quietly, his expression filled with pain and guilt. "I'm sorry, I'm just so scared. But I shouldn't have asked you to risk your life for me."

I was about to interrupt, to say it was okay, but when he saw I was going to say something he took placed his hands on my shoulders and smiled affectionately.

"This conversation can wait, at least for one night, so you can think about it. No matter what you chose, it isn't just my life in danger and I'm sorry I didn't realise that sooner." He pulled me against his firm chest and wrapped his tattooed arms around my body. One hand held my neck while the other snaked around my waist, making me feel safe in his arms.

How could I doubt this man, who no matter what, always found a way to make me feel safe in a place filled with unknown dangers?

The answer was, I couldn't.

Every time the world creating a slither of doubt, he would suck it dry from my veins with a simple reassuring smile that let me know that everything was going to be all right.

He drew back from me, and I momentarily lost the heat his body had given me, before he lightly placed his lips on my own. He tasted so sweet, like he was his own fine delicacy, lighting my hormones on fire.

"You should go home and get some rest." He whispered as he broke the kiss. My hands tightened around his biceps at the thought of him being alone in the prison with men who wanted him dead.

"I'm going to station extra guards around your cell." I stated immediately, authority returning to my voice. He chuckled and ran his warm hands up my arms.

"Thank you, Emily, but I don't think it will make a difference. The Brotherhood will no doubly have all the guards wrapped around their fingers. We can't trust any of them."

"Then what to you suggest I do?" I cried, raising my voice perhaps a little louder than necessary. "I can't just sit back and let them kill you!"

"I don't think they will do it tonight. It's too risky; there are still police around. We have at least another day before they do anything, I hope." He said half-heartedly.

I wasn't the only one he was trying to convince. I felt an internal battle was raging within him, perhaps even stronger than my own. While there was still a choice for me, there was none for him. He would die if he stayed here. And it was up to me whether my future was worth sacrificing for his life. He was trying to be a gentleman, to give me a choice, but I knew that inside he was just as scared as I was, maybe even more so.

"Okay," I said, wrapping my arms around him once more. "I'll be back tomorrow, I promise." As we held each other, I knew deep down that it might have been the last time we felt another's touch. So as the sun lowered over the horizon, we clung to each other like dying partners, in a desperate to feed off the others warmth and the last threads of hope that tethered us together.   

When I arrived home, the unexpected force of my fathers will greeted me, as he banged heavily against my bedroom door. I grumbled and slid off of my bed, I had hoped to have an early night so I could wake up refreshed and with a clear mind, but it was clear that it wasn't going to happen.

My mind should have been thinking of all the possible ways and outcomes of saving Vans' life, not thinking of all the possible reasons my father wanted to speak to me. We hadn't talked since he killed George, and I didn't plan on offering him any more affection and time that he was worth. Unless he regained my respect, he was nothing but waisted time.

"What?" I spat as I ripped open my door. His eyes narrowed at my attitude and he quickly pushed past me. He stormed into my room and I realised my mother was behind him, looking guilty, not angry.

"We need to talk to you, young girl." My father raised his voice and began to pace at the foot of my bed. I quietly seethed as he used the phrase to scold me. He knew I hated it, and had only used it once before; when I came home calling George my Uncle.

"Really?" I exclaimed, clapping my hands together in mockery. "What ever could be so important, Daddy?"

If he was bothered by my words, he only showed it through his growing anger and the unsteady rise and fall of his chest.

"Your mother and I have both agreed we've had enough of your behaviour," I flicked my gaze to my mother, who lowered her head in what I could only home was shame, "and we think you need to spend some time away." I tensed and clenched my fists.

They were going to send me away? For what? For being angry that my father killed the one truly good man in the prison?

"We are sending you to live with your aunt. Don't ask for how long. Don't ask why. Don't even try to resist. You are going and that is final." My father spat out and stormed back to my door.

"You're sending me to live with her? She's crazy! She lost custody over her child because of child abuse!" I shouted, outraged that my mother, my mother, would allow this to happen. What had my father told her to convince her to send me away?

"I said. don't. resist." My father spat, keeping his back to me as he stood by the door. He waited for me to say something else, but I was too stunned to do anything but watch as my parents walked out of my room, and out of my life, forever.

I sunk onto bed and curled into a ball on the comfortable mattress. It was a cold, lifeless thing, but right then it was the only thing that could support me. I thought about crying, I thought about getting angry, but then I thought to use the situation to my advantage.

I realised that I trusted Vans more than I trusted my monster of a father. 

I had told Vans that it was my family holding me back, but they had proven to me that we were no longer connected as love ones should. I had told Vans that it was my friends holding me back, but I hadn't heard from Nicola since I bailed on her party invitation. I told Vans it was the possibility of the future that was holding me back, but with the corruption that had dug its nails deep into the walls of the prison, I didn't think that I stood a chance at becoming anything but a dead body in that menacing building.

There was nothing holding me back. It was my one chance to save a life, a life that was important to me, a life that had, in its own way, set me free. I had to set Vans free.

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Hey guys! I'm sorry this chapter is so short, I wrote it in the last two hours, but I really wanted to get it out so the story could progress.

What are you guys thinking about the latest plot development?

If you were in Emilys position, would you set Vans free or would you listen to your parents?

(This is unedited, so I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes)

Your comments and votes make my day 

xx Charli

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