So. Yet another long wait. My apologies again. I just am such a procrastinator that when I have no deadline I just...don't try. So it was really, really difficult to write this chapter. But thanks to this music, I have finished it: Body Talk, Small Town, The Transmission, Final Battle, and Thank You Glorious by My Epiphany; Glass Ceiling, I.O.U., and Siamese Cities by Metric; A Thing For Me by Metronomy; Supermassive Black Hole by Muse; Spotlight (Twilight Mix) by Mute Math; Decode and I Caught Myself by Paramore; and Go All The Way (Into The Twilight) by Perry Farrell.

I do not own any Sweep related characters/ideas.

Now without further ado, chapter eight! Read and review!

Chapter 8

My plan was very under-thought, and therefore carrying out the plan was more difficult then I ever had imagined. I had no idea what to do to get out of here. I was encountering many things that I didn't even know of – for instance, how many wards or spells had they put up to keep me from escaping? How many did I know how to get through? (That answer was easy – none.)

So now I was lost, planning to actually jump out the window to avoid the door. I usually wouldn't lower myself to jumping out the damned window, but I was stuck between staying here and that. I'd chosen that, despite the fact that I was disrespecting myself to a window. I'd found out – in a very helpful way – that I could extend my senses, sort of. They were strangely like tendrils, all connected to me, and if I thought hard enough and pushed with my mind, they extended and told me about living things around me.

For instance, it could tell me when the people in this house fell asleep.

I was waiting on Hunter. I wish I knew some type of spell to knock people out, but of course I was under-taught by these damn British teachers who liked to teach me other names of plants instead of the useful things. My mother was already in a deeply peaceful sleep, and I felt a pang of guilt for the anguish I was going to cause her. However, Sky seemed nearly as restless as Hunter, other than the fact that she was sleeping fitfully, whacking the wall with her fist repeatedly as she turned in her sleep. I began to wonder if Hunter was suspecting me; why had his cousin and my mother fallen asleep and not him? Why did he have to care at all?

He was annoyingly stubborn, and I wished he would just fall asleep. If he suspected me so much, he should've told my mother. I didn't want to be anyone's responsibility, let alone him. It made me want to punch him so hard that blood spurted from the side of his mouth like spit. I surprised myself with these violent thoughts; the only time I'd had these before was when I got into a fight in seventh grade when this girl had been annoying me past the limit. Of course, my mom had cried over my behavior, grounded me for a month, and I'd been suspended from school for a week. Making my mom cry had made me feel worse then my guilt for beating the girl into a bloody mess of a being.

I looked at what I was bringing with me for my journey to – where exactly? I had no destination, and I was bringing one change of clothes with me. I didn't know where any car keys were, and the fact that I couldn't see my car in the driveway made me predict that they'd hidden my car somewhere. I don't know where, but maybe they had some invisibility spell or something. Not that I'd know.

Something changed around Hunter's aura – he seemed to have given up, or something. I could feel him fazing into unconsciousness. My heart picked up a beat; here it was. My big break-through. Could I pull it off?

I scoffed at myself for my doubt. How many times had I snuck out successfully before? Too many to count. Grinning at myself, I crunched the note I'd written to my mom in my hand and dropped it on the floor. If she really cared, she'd find it and straighten it out, I figured.

Taking a deep breath, I stood up. No matter how many times I'd snuck out before, I was fairly certain that my mother had never put wards on the house so I couldn't leave. Judging the amount of crappy situations I'd gotten myself into, that was probably bad judgment on her part.

I tried to open the door slowly, but at only a few inches it creaked teasingly, and I froze. Sky shifted in her sleep again, but there was no more movement. Feeling slightly nauseas, I got out the rest of the way without incident and finally shut the door behind me swiftly, and at the speed I was pushing it, it hardly creaked at all (infuriatingly enough).

The next obstacle was the window. It seemed to be closed shut and never-been opened. I unlocked it and tried to pry it open, but it wouldn't budge. Cursing, I ditched the window and instead went to the door. This hadn't been my plan at all. Why hadn't I seen if the window could open before? Then I wouldn't be stuck here, trying to make the most predictable sneak-out ever. For one more fraction of a moment, I listened to the three deep breathings on the floor above me; no changes.

I unbolted the door. Nothing. I turned the door knob, pulled it back, and –

Still nothing. I gasped in amazement; there had been nothing put against me, nothing stopping me, not even magickally. Smirking at their idiocy, I stepped forward.

And met a wall.

I couldn't see squat, put when I put my hands up, there was definitely something there. Thicker air, somehow. I cringed and pushed against it, feeling it bend under my hands but not weather or move. It was weird, like bendable air. I kept trying to push it, but it worked with me, not letting me get any farther.

I began to punch it, my anger overriding my determination. Frustrated tears pricked the backs of my eyes, and I wanted to burst into tears and sob all over the miserable floor. I hated that floor. I hated this house. I wanted to hate these people. But no matter how much my mom could irritate me, I could never hate her.

I was on the verge of outright sobbing, something that never happened to Morgan-the-Stoic, when suddenly words popped into my head. I had no idea where they'd come from. I don't know why they were there, where I'd read them, what I was doing with them.

I need to get out

Let me pass

This is the only route

Without broken glass.

Surprisingly, something new bent beneath my hand; the air seemed to quiver for a moment before breaking beneath my hand. I pushed harder, harder, repeating the phrase in my head again and again, feeling the invisible wall shake beneath my hand even more quickly.

Finally, something seemed to shatter; I felt it beneath my hand, suddenly disappearing as if there'd been nothing there in the first place. I felt a sense of exhilaration as I out-stepped my boundaries, as I left my safe haven. And then I shut the door behind me.

For a moment, there was complete silence. Then an owl hooted in the distance, and I was immediately aware of everything around me, my senses on hyper-alert. It took me a moment to realize that I was scared. I was leaving to be alone; I was running away. Leaving forever, hopefully. And I didn't feel any regret about it. Shouldn't I be feeling something other then being afraid to where I was headed?

The owl hooted again, and something broke inside me, and I ran down the road, my feet pattering a rhythm that was wild, as I ran at different speeds, my breathing labored and heavy at the excursion of energy.

I heard noises that I never wanted to hear; shifting, branches breaking, cracking, owls hooting. And I ran, ran like death was on my tail.

I was just seeing the crack of the sun above the horizon when I realized where I was. I didn't even know where I was; let alone where I was headed. I was thankful for the light; I was still worried about someone jumping out of their car and pointing a gun at me. I was sure that Wicca wouldn't help me if I encountered that.

I was beginning to shudder, from the cold. It was only mid-October, but the morning was chillier than I'd anticipated, and, smart me, I hadn't brought a sweater. Or even my change of clothes; I'd dropped them when I'd tried to pry open the window.

I was stumbling and limping along when a little blue BMW came around the corner. I frowned, trying to see the driver as they slowed to look at me. I couldn't help the impending beating of my heart. This was it – this person was going to pull the trigger on me now, or a knife, or –

"Morgan Roberts?" said the voice incredulously, and I finally noticed who was in the front seat. It was that snobby whore, Bree Warren, from my school. I was heading in her direction? Towards the school district's direction? The second thing that came to mind was: Bree Warren could kill me.

I resisted the urge to giggle at that thought. Why the hell would Bree Warren want to kill me? It wasn't like I'd ever called her a whore to her face.

"Um, are you okay?" said Bree, in what I was sure she was feigning innocence.

"Why do you care?" I said back smarmily, surprised at the shock that came to her face in reply.

"Well, you don't look like you're okay," said Bree, "so I was just offering…I could make you some coffee, or something…" Her voice trailed off, and I found myself wanting to smile. What an idiot. Who the hell would offer me coffee when I looked like this? What I really needed was a kicking shower and some clean clothes.

Then I realized she was waiting for me to accept or decline her offer. I froze, unsure of what to do. On one hand, I could hide at her house. On the other – me, hanging out with the queen of stuck-up, Bree Warren? It didn't seem likely that I could even get along with her to ten minutes, let alone camp in her house. But what choice did I have? If I waited any longer, there's the chance that Bree might tell someone. Or that Hunter and my mother might find me.

"Coffee sounds nice," I said, and I stepped forward.

Thanks to Adabella Cullen, JessMess, mrs edward cullenxxx, spazzyspassyangel, TriquetraBD, xX Hidden Secret Xx, and XxHyBriDk10 for reviewing chapter seven.