.o Attempts at Freedom o.

Bianca POV

Waking up after you've been drugged is weird. Instead of instantly being alert, it takes a few seconds for your senses to catch up with your brain. I would know. My family's doctors learned when I was younger that I needed more sedative than normal people my size. I'd woken up early twice before anyone figured out my body was stubborn. Luckily it'd only been the dentist and nothing serious, although the pain was terrible. This time, however, the headache and twisting stomach worked in my favor. It would have helped if I hadn't been upside down when I woke up though.

My heart leapt into my throat, making it hard to breathe around. It took me a few seconds to calm down enough to realize I was lying on something hard, my head dangling over the side. Biting my lip, I managed to scoot myself fully onto the hard surface, hitting my head in the process. When my head was no longer dangling, it was easier to think.

The last thing I remembered, there had been a Code Black. Madam Dabney had told a group of us to go to our dorm and stay there. Then the lights went out. Someone grabbed me. There was a sharp pain in my side. I shook my head. This was ridiculous. Macey had sent me to freaking spy school, and I was still kidnapped. At least now I had a small idea of what to do, I guess.

Looking around it looked like I was in some kind of abandoned attic. There were cobwebs and dust layering the wooden beams and panels of the roof, and the musty sent of dust, mold and rotting wood was thick in the air. I could hear voices from somewhere beyond my vision field, but my focus was on the ties around my wrists and ankles. My hands and feet stung where the plastic had cut and rubbed my skin raw. My arms and legs were irritated by the rough wood beneath me. With a few awkward twists, I managed to sit up.

The room was empty, which wasn't a surprise as no one had done anything when I woke up. The voices were coming from the other room, but they were loud enough that I didn't think anyone heard me sit up. Careful not to make any noise, I scooted myself to the edge of the crate I was sitting on. It wasn't too high, only four or five feet. I wasn't that good at judging distances yet. A girl in my class could have told me exactly how many inches it was. That was the only thing I didn't liked about Gallagher. Everyone my age knew more than me. I scowled. The other girls were probably telling each other how much of an armature I was for getting taken and how they could have done better.

Pulling my feet around in front of me, I hopped from the crate, landing in an awkward crouch that hurt my bound ankles. It took a few seconds for me to gain my balance; I almost fell on my back before leaning against the crate for support.

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I glanced back at the doorway. The voices were still talking, and I could make out a few words. "Waiting... taking too long... start moving..." I didn't pay attention to the conversation in the other room, focusing more on the ties around my ankles.

The girls had left my shoes on, which made this a lot easier. I sank down, into a sitting position, my heartbeat a constant reminder that time was passing. Those girls wouldn't be talking forever, and I was still tied up.

Pulling my feet towards my chest, I rolled my shoulders until my hands were beneath me. With a painful half jump, I was able to move my bound hands around my legs to the front of my body. Ears ringing, I worked my shoelaces loose and wrapped them around the clasp on my ankles, the zip ties on my wrists digging into my skin. Biting my lip, I tied the best knot I could around the clasp. When it was secure, I pulled the zip tie up my leg, tightening it until it couldn't move. Wincing, I held the tie there while moving my feet best I could, as if I were pedaling a bike. It felt stupid, but at the moment I couldn't have cared less. With a satisfying snap, the plastic around my legs fell. My raw skin tingled as circulation began its flow.

When my feet stopped burning, I stood, shakily. It was much easier to release my hands. Using my teeth, I twisted the plastic tie until the clasp was between my wrists, and then pulled, tightening it until it dug into my skin. I winced at the pain, but it was necessary to get out of here. Taking a deep breath, I tensed my arms and stomach, and yanked my arms into my abdomen forcefully, spreading my arms as my wrists made contact with my hip bones.

The plastic snapped, and the amount of force I'd used made me stumble back, knocking into one of the crates around me. I cursed as the voices in the other room stopped. There wasn't time to plan anything; I sprinted to the other side of the room. There was a window closer, but I figured I was up a few stories and didn't trust that I wouldn't kill myself by jumping. The only other way out was a door on the other side of the room.

Behind me, a girl cursed in a language that sounded familiar, but I didn't care enough to remember. I could already hear the footsteps chasing me as I ran down the hall. The floors were old, splintered, and creaky as I turned corners and searched for an exit.

Behind me, the girl chasing me yelled, "Clara!"

I risked a glance back. The girl chasing me was in all black, but even in the dark I could tell her hair was a bright red, not orange or brown, it was red as blood. It seemed to be an even bigger warning not to go near her. It scared me more than her eyes or the fact she was gaining on me.

A sharp turn brought me to the edge of a staircase, which I almost fell down. Above me, something fell, hitting the banister. Another girl landed in the middle of the staircase, her feet barley touching the ground before running up to me. I didn't have time to wonder where she'd come from before I turned and ran the way I'd come, dropping to the floor as I passed the redhead. When I was closer to her, I noticed the gun and knives on her belt and arm, thanking Gillian that she didn't seem to be using them. I had to get out of there before she decided they could help.

Making the most reckless decision I'd ever thought of, I ran back to the room I'd woken up in. From what I'd seen, I guessed that I was in the abandoned theater in the town near Gallagher. We'd visited the town once, and if my memory was correct, I wouldn't die for what I was about to do.

Shoving my way back to the crate filled room, my heart dropped into my stomach as my shoe laces caught on something. A whimper escaped my mouth as the floor scraped my already sore limbs. It hurt, but I could hear the girls getting closer. I could imagine the other students boasting how they got through this simulation and that exercise, how fun it was, how easy. A hiss slipped through my teeth as one of my captor's hands grabbed my arm. I heard the girl behind me mutter, "Stupid girl."

Stupid girl. Useless girl. Weak girl. A growl ripped through my throat. I was none of them, and there was no way I was letting this psycho, my father's body guards or any other students make me feel like I was. The redhead let yelped as my foot sunk into her gut.

"Ally!" The other girl crouched next to her friend.

I launched myself across the room, my body slamming into the windowsill. My fingers were numb, fumbling to unlock the latch. When the widow actually opened, I could hear the two girls getting up behind me. The air felt ice cold, the last remains of winter thriving at night. I didn't look down. I didn't look back. I simply climbed onto the windowsill.

Then I jumped.

Alyson POV

I hadn't expected her to jump.

Then again, she was a Gallagher Girl. Recklessness was what she was taught. The fact that she'd escaped in the first place proved that we'd underestimated her. I had underestimated her; just like I'd underestimated Cameron. You'd think I'd learn one of the most basic lessons of this business by now, huh? Instead, I was learning that within the first two months, Gallagher taught how to escape zip ties and jump out of windows without killing yourself.

Clara glanced at me briefly, a small smile on her features, before following suit and jumping out the window herself. I couldn't help the stutter of my breaths as I watched my cousin launch herself out of a window for the second time in her life. The only thing keeping the scream inside my throat was the knowledge that she wanted to survive this time. She probably thought her smile was reassuring, but all it did was dig up memories that made my normally iron stomach squirm.

Swallowing the unwanted emotion threatening to seep through the cracks of their prison, I watched as Clara spun midair, pushing off the wall before landing in a roll and popping up mere yards from the running girl in front of her. I shook my head. Show off.

Turning around, my hands slid over the weapons I hadn't used. Honestly, I hadn't even thought about using them on the girl, and that scared me. It was simply because she wasn't a threat, though the throbbing in my side would have me disagree. This girl was young and ignorant. She wasn't a worthy threat to need weapons for. I shouldn't have to injure her to catch her.

Since when had that ever stopped me?

Scowling, I shoved the thought aside and grabbed a rope from the hanging rafters, unsheathing a knife and cutting it in two. The questions needed to be silenced. Clara was wrong. Being near Zach was not helping me. I refused to be affected by the person who betrayed me, who abandoned me. My fingers grew warm inside my gloves, the friction of the rope moving between my fingers heating the numb skin. Soon I had a nice knot that even a seasoned Gallagher Girl would have trouble extricating themselves from without catching our attention.

I supposed the zip ties had been a bit basic, but who had time for intricate knots when your best friend is risking the mission and being as unhelpful as possible? Popping my fingers, I tossed the rope over my shoulder and made my way to the main floor of the building. Despite it being old and worn, it was in pretty good condition. The wood needed replacing in some areas, and there were a few places that needed touch-ups, but all in all it was a good theater. Maybe the stage could be expanded slightly, since it was a bit open on the sides. Or maybe the seats could be reorganized to make room for some more...

Killing my thoughts in their tracks, I forced myself to focus on the objective. There was no reason to be mentally refurbishing an abandoned theater. No reason for wasting energy on something that would never happen. Quickly sitting in the entranceway, I forced myself not to remember why I knew so much about refurbishing old buildings. There was no use thinking about the project that was never going to happen, the house that should have been blown away.

Taking a slow breath, I shoved the memories into their cage and locked them away. It'd been getting harder. At times I could feel the noose tightening, the demons attempting to free themselves. My grip on the small amount of control I had was slipping through my fingers. Clara thought it was good. Evelyn knew I was losing it. I felt like I was drowning, struggling to keep my head above the murky darkness below. But I could end it. I could end all of this, and I would. I would get revenge, avenge my mother, avenge my aunt, burn the remains of useless bridges. I would get my life back, and I would prove I didn't need anyone to help me survive.

...

Maybe it was minutes or maybe it was hours later that the door to the theater opened. I glanced up at the grinning face of my cousin, who was bouncing like a five year old, before shifting my gaze to the person she'd walked in with. "You're back." I wasn't surprised, but seeing her made me tense slightly. It was something I'd never noticed before.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at me, shifting the girl in her arms and unceremoniously dropping her at my feet. "You let her escape." The Gallagher Girl let out a single yelp when she hit the floor, her eyes murdering me five times over. I grabbed her wrists, finishing the knot around her arms and ankles. She didn't struggle, but I doubt she would hesitate if someone ever handed her a gun and told her to open fire on me. There was blood on her arms, more than what a normal escape and jump from the second story would get you. It spread from a cut on her shoulder, but looking closer I noticed the left side of her head was swelling too. A long sigh slipped through my teeth.

"We weren't supposed to hurt her," I muttered, grabbing the girl's shoulders and dragging her to the main room. Clara skipped forwards, wrapping her arms around the girl's waist and lifting until only her feet were dragging. It looked like she whispered something, but I couldn't hear.

Evelyn crossed her arms, matching my pace as we walked towards the stage. There was a scoff in her voice when she replied, "Since when? Since when do we do any of this, Alyson? Sure, we play mind games, but not attacking at the zoo? Leaving a witness? Actually caring about this girl's well being?" Her voice was rising, a hint of venom layering her words. I bit my lip. This had been brewing for days, I'd noticed. Evelyn took a step closer to me when Clara and I dropped the Gallagher Girl on the stage. My teeth squeaked as they ground together. I watched Evelyn carefully, eyeing the knife in her hand as she hissed at me. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're going soft like your goody-goody brother."

"Enough, Viper!" My voice was louder than I'd anticipated, her code name rolling out of my mouth naturally, leaving a raw ache in my throat. She didn't know anything. I was the leader; I'd always been the leader, and she needed to shut up and take orders. We needed to be a team like we used to be before all hell broke loose on our lives. I shook my head slightly, a scowl forming on my lips. "We needed her able to walk," I snapped, gesturing to the girl lying at our feet. "We can't move her fast enough in this condition. So, well done! You've ruined our next move because you can't ever do anything without drawing blood!"

"So what?" Evelyn spread her arms out; Clara bent backwards to avoid the blade. "Let them come. I'm sick of running, Widow!" She twirled her hand, knife reflecting what little moonlight there was. I didn't miss the use of my own Codename thrown at me. "Let them come. Let them try to take her back. I refuse to follow you on another stupid game!"

I tried to calm my voice. Evelyn guarded her emotions more than I did. If she was losing this much control, it was dangerous to push her. Jaw set, I managed to mutter,"They're not stupid," through my teeth.

She pointed the knife at me. "What purpose does hiding serve us now? We're mad at Zach for making us hide, for not finding us. Why are we still hiding?"

My nails were biting into my palms. If I didn't relax my fist, there would be blood, even through the gloves. "The Agency is still looking for us. We can't simply-"

"No, that's not what I mean, and you know it." Evelyn stepped closer to me, lowering the knife. "Why are you hiding from your brother?"

"I am not-"

"BS and you know it!" she spat. She held my gaze as I glared at her, mentally snapping her neck. I would feel guilty about it later, but at the moment it gave me a small sense of satisfaction.

After a few seconds, I looked away. "Why don't you just leave then?" I asked. "If you're so tired of this, why are you still here?"

There was a long silence. Glancing back at my best friend, I saw something I scarcely had ever seen. She was still staring at me, but her eyes had changed, the frozen steel dissolving into storming clouds. Her features softened ever so slightly, eyebrows coming together slightly. After a moment she looked down, then back to me. Evelyn's voice was low, nearly a whisper when she finally answered. "You know why I can't leave."

A beat of silence passed between us. I couldn't help but glance at Clara. Beside me, I heard Eva release a breath, before walking away. I sank to the floor, watching her jump from the stage and walk out of the door.

I sat there for a few minutes before moving to where Clara was watching the Gallagher Girl. She was crouched near her head, not touching her, but holding a hand just above her arm. I crouched next to the girl who was sitting with the grace of the Pixie for which she was named. "What are you doing?"

Clara looked up at me, smiling. "Talking." I nodded, deciding I didn't want to know what that meant. Sometimes it was best to simply let Clara do what she wanted. She needed that freedom.

"She's coming back you know." Clara's smile had faded, but the ring in her voice never did. She gestured to the door. "Eva's our best friend. She needs to cool down, but she won't leave."

She sounded so certain, and she and Eva had always had a closer, more complicated relationship, yet, somehow, I doubted it. Evelyn may not have left a few years ago, but a lot changes when you're locked up in an asylum. Since Mom had brought her home all those years ago, I'd always wondered if she'd ever leave. She did once when we were sixteen, but we'd brought her back. Now, I'm not sure if her personal vow to take care of Clara was strong enough this time.

I glanced at my cousin, remembering the look in Evelyn's eyes before she'd left the theater. My lips pulled up into a small smile. "As long as you're here, I doubt she'll leave for good, Clara."