PART II

Josie was pushed back into her cage early the next morning.

"Welcome back, Josie. How was your operation?" I asked quietly.

"I want to escape." Josie responded quickly, anger clear in her tone.

"Well, of course you do. We all want t-"

"No!" She shouted. "I want to go now. You've said you've done it before!"

I gulped. This was a bad idea. Then again, everything I do tends to be a bad idea. I stayed silent for a few minutes, but eventually I decided that no matter what I said or did, she would've definitely found a way to bury me in my own words.

"Answer me, Con!" Josie snapped. "Will you take me with you, or are you a chicken?"

She then proceeded, in all of her maturity, and despite our dire situation, to mock me with chicken noises.

I took a deep breath.

"Fine. But, you need to do exactly as I say, alright? No questions, no arguments. Do you understand?"

Okay, Josie. On my mark, you throw the rock at that emergency buzzer. It will set off an alarm that will unlock and open all of the doors in the building, but only for a limited amount of time. I know this place like the back of my hand, but I'll need you to stay close to me, because if you stop, there's no promises that I'll wait for you."

"Okay," was all she said.

"One more thing, Josie. If I don't make it out of here, if I get caught... You leave me, alright? Save yourself, and don't worry about me." I clenched my jaw. In the end, it was better if she made it out.

"But-"

"What did I say to you about arguing with me? We made an agreement."

She didn't respond. I heard the clink of the rock against the bars of her cage as she positioned it, and in a jagged, hardly graceful movement, she attempted to toss the small rock, one of the random supplies I'd fished out of my pocket.

The rock plinked against the buzzer. The throw was weak, it's nearly impossible to throw in such small spaces, so, frankly, I'm not surprised it didn't work.

Josie swore quietly to herself.

"Well, time for Plan B." I chuckled to myself, before trying my best to launch myself against the bars of my cage. The cage rolled off of it's stack, before smashing against the ground. The rusty lock cracked, and I squirmed my way out of my personal version of a tiny coffin.

I hurried to pick the lock of Josie's cage using my broken toothpick, before tossing it aside.

"Let's go!" I yelled, slamming the heel of my hand against the buzzer. The alarm rang loudly in my ears, as I blindly stumbled throughout the whitewashed halls of the School.

A lot of it was a blur after that. Erasers appeared around every corner, brandishing needles and syringes, dripping with murky black fluid. We ran, and ran, and ran. Eventually, we reached the Exit.

Five seconds until the doors close and lock.

"Come on, Josie!" I screamed behind me.

Josie was slower than me, and I had to wait for her to catch up.

Two seconds. I dove for the heavy iron doors, trying to hold them open against the weight of the automatic sensors.

"I'm coming!" Josie screeched.

I just had to, no matter what I'd said before.

"Go, go, go!" I yelled, pushing her out the door.

We only had mere minutes before the Whitecoats unlocked the doors and sent Erasers after us.

"Josie, go for the city!" I shouted, way louder than I needed to, while frantically motioning for her to run into the forest that seemed to curl around the back of the establishment.

We ran, and ran, and sometimes even crawled, when we really had to. Eventually we stopped, clutching our burning legs and stomachs. "I can't run anymore," I gasped, my throat raw.

"Hey, Con?" Josie whispered to me, munching on the mint leaves we'd stolen from some person's backyard garden. "The Whitecoats, after the injection... They told me that my perks were transformation, and retraction of claws. Can we test it out?"

"Yeah, sure. Uh... Just focus on your hands, I guess. Imagine your nails growing into claws."

Over the next two hours, in the dead of night, I helped her practice her new skills. Right as I was drifting off to sleep, she asked me a question.

"Why has nobody ever exposed the School?" she asked me, her voice barely loud enough to be heard over the rustling leaves on the surrounding trees.

"Everyone who's tried has been tortured or killed. It's not worth it, and people would rather just go underground."

"Oh..." She trailed off.

I knew. I knew she wanted to do it. So why, why didn't I stop her...

When I woke up the next morning, Joselyn Ami LaRouge was gone. Light, powdery snow fell gently from the gray sky above. I ran as quickly as I could to the city, who's name I still don't know. I saw her there, standing on the steps of the courthouse. Surrounded by reporters, people with cameras, microphones, and cell phones. All pointed at her.

I didn't even see the Eraser draw a gun. I shouldn't blame myself, though, as I wasn't close enough to him to tell. Before I could understand what was happening, Josie had fallen to the ground. Still alive, but barely breathing.

She had skin like glass.

In that split second between life and death, she looked so... Weak.

Hopeless.

Delicate.

I didn't sleep for days after she was killed. Her name was on the headline of every newspaper I saw, and she was the main topic of every newscast. She never had said out loud that she was going to expose the School, or that she was willing to risk her own life to save others. Now, as I continue my lifestyle of running, I find myself respecting her choice, and wishing I'd had the guts to do the same. Eventually, Josie made a pretty big difference. The School was exposed as a torture center for children and teens, and most of the Whitecoats were accused, and later arrested on counts of child abuse, child neglect, and torture. Reports of it shutting down circulated through the media, but there are also rumors that some Schools have gone into hiding, and are continuing their experiments in secret.

You know, for months after she died, and, I guess, to this day, I keep telling myself how fragile she looked in those last few moments.

Staring at me through the crowd...

My name on her pale, cracked lips...

But maybe I'm the fragile one.