Sorry for the shorter chapter this week, like I said I'll be busy with revision but I love reading your comments from chapters whilst I do. Thank you to everyone who has commented so far!

Enjoy!

Like a seed that has been planted in the earth, a plan begins to grow in my mind. I sit and think, eyes closed in concentration, formulating ideas and anticipating problems. All the time I keep seeing Marinette's face, features darkened by hurt and betrayal, and it makes me wince. I open my eyes and sigh in frustration. I know that I will have to bury my emotion if I want to do this. I'll have to supress every inch of thought, because when I do this, it's imperative that I don't get caught out. This is one game that I have to win.

They can lock me up, Father can imprison me here and watch over me like he's concerned about his demented son, but I'll show him.

I'll show Marinette.

I'll show all of them.

My plan will work, and I will get out of here, no matter what it takes. Because even if it doesn't now, I have nothing to lose.

So I bury every bit of emotion deep inside of me, putting it all into a chest in my mind and padlocking it so it can't get out until I need it. From my life before here, I've been good at showing no emotion, so it should be okay now. I know that I can ponder everything when I've patched things over with Marinette.

What if she doesn't want to come with me? What if she'd rather rot in a cell for the rest of her life than come with me? What if she's not even here anymore? What if they've killed her?

No Adrien. Bottle it up. Ignore it.

I scold myself. Sit on the mental chest. No emotion. Don't let it get through. I need to think clearly.

Somehow, somewhere, I hope that she's doing the same. Huh. I doubt that. I'm struck with a painful reminder of what Lila said.

'She's probably in her new cell by now as broken and crying as you were when you first got here.'

At least she won't be dead. I might be dead to her though. I want to cry out loud, but I'm so overrun with sadness I can't even find the tears.

Instead, I go over the final details of my plan and consider any problems I might encounter. As soon as I'm the slightest bit confident that I can pull this off and everything I'm thinking will work, I get to my feet and walk over to the cell door. At the top of the door, there is a small opening with thick iron bars running from end to end. It's like a window, except there's no way I'd ever want to willingly choose to look out at what lies outside that door. Especially not since I've been out there before, and every single moment of supposed 'freedom' was torture.

I carefully remove one of my gloves and as gently as possible, I reach as far as I can through the bars without my skin touching anything. I angle my arm thins way and that, trying to feel for a wall or door or anything that I can get my hands on. Eventually I manage to feel the rough texture of the crumbling wallpaper that lined the halls like a layer of broken skin. It's already so dilapidated it nearly doesn't need my help to enhance its damage. For a split second I can feel its texture, but not for long, because the feeling is slowly replaced by the familiar surge of energy that I can feel rocketing though my arms, coursing through the veins in my forearms and expelling out of my fingertips. I've seen it happen so many times by accident that I don't even need to see the wall to know what is happening to it. There's no need for me to imagine what must be happening, because I've seen it a thousand times.

A trail of black soot and ash starting from under my hand that spreads out slowly from my skin in jagged, unpredictable tendrils of decay, eating the life and swallowing the colour from whatever crosses its path. I can hear the wallpaper crackling as it snaps and peels away from the wall. Shortly after it ceases, my ears pick up the sound of the guards as they notice what I'm doing.

A swift patter of footsteps grow louder and louder, and after a moment two guards are at my cell door, glaring daggers at me as I remove my hand from the wall and pull it back into my cell where they can't get me.

"What's your problem all of a sudden, eh?!"

One of the guards squares up to the door, holding my eye. A tough exterior, but I don't miss the glint of fear in his eyes. Just a split second before he masks his emotions again, but it's enough for me to notice it. I know what it looks like as well as I know my own reflection by now. I glare, unblinking, back at the both of them.

I feel horrible, but I know that it must be done.

For Marinette.

"Go and get Lila. Now," I demand sharply, a hint of menace in my voice.

The guards look taken aback. I know why. They're not used to me being so forceful. No one is. Everyone knows how much I detest Lila, so of course me wanting her to come to me seems unnatural. I give a curt nod, trying to keep my expression as neutral as possible so I don't give anything away.

The second guard, silent until now, stiffens and fold his arms as he eyes me uncertainly.

"Oh yeah, and why have you suddenly changed you mind? She doesn't need you to waste her time. She has far more important matters of business to attend to," he grunts, his expression faltering as he meets my cold glare.

I fold my arms too in reply, mirroring him. I can see it puts him off.

"I'm not going to waste her time. I've changed my mind. I've decided that I'm going to help her and my father learn more about- why on earth am I telling this to you? I should be telling your boss," I lean into the bars, my ungloved hands cautious to not touch them as I manoeuvre my left hand through them.

The guards watch me nervously as my hand draws closer and closer to their faces, and for a second I admit I enjoy seeing the looks of terror and panic etched into their features, as a form of comeuppance for ignoring the same look of fear in my face when they dragged me in here on my father's wishes. They try to remain as calm and collected as possible in front of me, but I see them edge slightly away. My hand stops just in front of the first guard's face, inches away. He swallows, his breath quickening. I gesture with my thumb for him to go down the hall. Leaning into the bars further, I whisper.

"So go get her."

I hate it, I hate it, that I can hear my own father's voice in mine. Although I really hate to admit it, I do sound just like him. I really do. And it's awful, the very thing that I want to avoid more than anything else.

But it's for Marinette, I remind myself.

And it worked.

The guards quickly nod, wiping beads of sweat that seem to have formed and laced their brows in the heat of the moment as they hurry off quickly in search of Lila. Their disgruntled murmurs as they walk makes me sigh. I really don't like being intentionally awful to other people, because that's not who I am, but sometimes you have to sacrifice certain things in order to get others. And sometimes you have to make sacrifices for love.

I'm still waiting after a few moments, and so I begin to pace up and down in front of the door, waiting for them to come back. Hopefully with Lila. Although I think I pulled it off quite well, I also know Lila, and I know that she might not be as easily fooled as the guards.

So, in order for this to work, I'm going to have to give the performance of my life.