"You shouldn't be here," Carmen Diaz remarks as we sit in a broom closet inside the hospital.

She snuck me in through the back alley way where the dumpster was and through the morgue. I've never seen a dead body before except on television and the ones in there were covered in sheets, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't fill me with a sense of dread and queasiness.

"If I had a choice, I wouldn't be. If I don't get help, I won't make it much longer. My gashes are infected, it's spreading around my body, and I have barely any insulin left. My only two choices besides coming here were let infection or diabetes kill me," I answer in a guilty tone.

Carmen places her head into her hands.

I didn't wanna put her in this position. Miss Diaz and her family had been nothing but good to me and I knew I was clearly taking advantage of that kindness.

I could see the physical changes in her. Bags under the eyes, bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair, and she seemed as if she'd lost weight since the last time I saw her.

"You have to understand, a lot more than my job is on the line here. If there's any suspicion on me, I'll never get my license and am at risk of losing my freedom," she argues.

I close my eyes and scratch my head trying my best to consider any option.

"Alright… I was gonna offer this anyway, but if you save my life, I'll let you turn me in to the police and take every cent of the reward money. Use it to help pay for Miguel's treatment. It's the least I could do," I say pleading but looking her dead in the eye.

This request shocks her. Why it does, I'll never know.

She looks at her shoes deep in thought before looking at me with a saddened expression.

"I-I can't do that," Miss Diaz remarks in a pleading tone.

"You have to. Miguel's health could depend on it. Even if you don't, I won't last forever. I'm almost out of insulin anyway. Even if I got a new batch right now, it's only good for roughly 2 weeks," I confirm.

Carmen shuts her eyes as a tear leaks out of her right eye. I felt horrible for the guilt I was causing her, but was the only way I could stay alive.

"Miguel would never forgive me," Carmen whispers.

"That's not true. He'd understand that you were doing what any mother would do," I argue soothingly.

After a while, Carmen looks at me with watery guilt ridden eyes and nods her head.

A few minutes later, she managed to sneak me into a rather isolated hospital room that was empty and I was face down on the table.

She began the slow countdown and instructed me to count with her.

10, 9, 8….

Nothing felt different despite the IV hooked up.

7, 6, 5,

Still nothing. I didn't get how this would help me fall asleep. I always hear how people never make it to one.

4, 3…

I blink and it's almost as if someone flipped a switch. Where there was a stinging sensation all over my body, it was just a dull ache along with a feeling of numbness.

My eyes which had once been glassy from the fever were now crusty and groggy from sleep residue.

The fever was nearly gone completely. The only strange sensation was that my body felt as if it were floating.

The door opens and I flinch.

Being on the run had made the slightest noise scare the shit out of me, but the grogginess of the anesthetics made me only move my eyes toward the shoes on the ground lazily.

"How are you feeling?" Carmen asks.

"Groggy… did you already do it?" I rasp out rather slowly.

Carmen kneels down to my level and gives me a small smile.

"You fell fast asleep after you made it to three," she teases sweetly.

I sigh and the ghost of a smile makes it way across my sleepy face.

"Thank you Miss Diaz…" I slowly whisper.

I feel a loving hand pet my hair and I do my best to relax. This reminds me of being back home as a little kid.

How my mom used to pet my hair after tucking me in as a little boy. As I got older, the lullabies she used to hum became less and less. Everything I'd gone through recently taught me just how much I'd taken for granted.

I'd do anything to have my mom tuck me in and kiss my forehead goodnight and to have my dad read me a bedtime story.

Part of me things Miss Diaz is missing the same thing. A son she can't be a mother to at the moment and me, the boy who can't see his parents unless it's through thick bullet proof glass and a phone or maybe sitting at a table while I'm in chains.

In the moment, I imagine both of us filling the holes in our hearts.

Before I lull back to sleep, I feel a soft pair of lips press gently against my forehead.

"Sweet dreams Mijo," Carmen lovingly whispers before lifting a small blanket over the clean white bandages covering the stitches on my now patched wound.

When I wake up, I feel almost completely well rested. I rub my sleepy eyes and notice that I can somewhat comfortably move my left arm without pain shooting through my body. Although it is a bit stiff at the moment.

The wooziness from the anesthetic having worn off, I kick my legs over the soft cushioned table I was sleeping on and see a note along with what appears to be Carmen's phone, a bag of almonds, a bottle of water, and a fresh container of insulin.

My eyes light up at this before I read the note.

"I decided to leave this here for the night. I don't think you'll make any calls but my passcode is 031702. I'd suggest playing games to pass the time. Miggy loved to play brick breaker on my phone growing up until he got one of his own. I also left yesterday's newspaper in the drawer in case you haven't been checking. Sweet dreams and I'll be back tomorrow morning around 5:30am. Good news, your cousin Noah has been discharged and is resting at home. He's believed to make a full recovery besides a minor scar from his jaw surgery. I know you may be tempted to go visit Miggy, but PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE THIS ROOM!

-Carmen ️

"Visit… Miggy?" I whisper to myself in a shaky tone as I clinch the small sticky note in my hand.

I couldn't believe it. Miguel was… ALIVE.

I exhale probably the biggest sigh of relief at the news that both Miguel and Noah were indeed alive. Not only that, but Noah was home right now. He'd make a full recovery. More than anything… I was NOT a murderer.

I close my eyes and continue to breathe as I process this information.

"Oh thank God," I mutter into my hands.

She was right about one thing, I was more tempted than ever to go and see Miguel. I knew I'd practically expose myself but I couldn't fight it. I thought I'd lost him. I thought my best friend had died right in front of me.

I thought I'd murdered a member of my own family. I felt a twinge of guilt at the fact that he'd have a scar for the rest of his life. Same as me.

He'd be forever seen as a "freak" by people like I was. A year ago, I would've reveled at this, but since I'd been the one to cause it, I felt sick.

Thankfully, I had nothing to vomit, but I certainly was not hungry for the almonds. I did however greedily down the bottle as my dry throat begs me to.

I saw my hoodie and shirt neatly folded on the table next to her phone. I walk over and give the clothes a sniff. They smelled clean and had the warm soft texture fabric usually does when it is fresh out of the dryer. For the first time, I felt comfortable in my clothing, not the gross and clammy sensation I'd grown accustomed to.

Despite being not much of a planner, I'd need to figure something out. I never really made plans and preferred to just do things by the moment unless I had a purpose, but I wasn't going anywhere without a structured scheme.

I turn on her phone to see 3:02AM.

I had roughly 4 hours before Robby came and if I missed his window, I was a dead man.

What really gets my mind racing is when I finally check out the newspaper article she'd given me.

The headline read

West Valley Fugitives At Large

"So that's what they're calling Keene and I now," I whisper to myself as I begin to read information.

Most of it was rather routine info along with wanted posters of myself and Robby.

"Out of all the pictures they could've picked, they go with that one," I remark somewhat deadpanned as they chose a rather stoic looking photo of me that had been on an Instagram post.

I looked pissed off and serious. I guess it was to depict me as the criminal I was as opposed to a regular kid to the public for initiative.

Last but certainly not least, I read about a man named Franklin McCarthy. Not only did the name seem familiar but a photo of the police detective immediately drew me to one conclusion.

McCarthy from West Valley had a father that was in charge of finding and booking Robby and me. Given that my last interaction with James McCarthy ended with him writhing on the floor with a broken wrist, this man won't pull his punches.

Various quotes from this man make my blood boil. While he wasn't entirely wrong, his utter exaggeration of how much of a danger I was bordered on lies.

"A danger to the kids of West Valley High School"

"An impulsive and ruthless young adult who doesn't belong in society"

Along with many more quotes about how I was a loose cannon. Granted, my actions during the school fight proved his point, that was a major mistake. A one time thing… right?

It had to be, but… it wasn't. Everything from Rory during Halloween last year, Hawk and the others at Coyote Creek, and Noah during the fight at school all rang through my head at once.

This whole time I'd been under the pretense that I was a good person. Someone who didn't deserve to be locked up for one horrible misdeed. Maybe I did though.

It was easy to see Robby as the villain of this whole thing, but the truth was… I was equally to blame. We all were.

I considered opening Miss Diaz' phone and turning myself in, but then another memory came back. None other than Valley Fest a few months back.

McCarthy and the other football guys never got arrested. We would've heard about it during the summer at some point. There were plenty of witnesses to point the blame at the football team clear as day. They'd committed numerous crimes.

Everything began to come together. I took one last glance at the screen with 911 dialed and my thumb hovered over the call button before I deleted the number and went to the internet.

I googled "detective Franklin McCarthy LAPD"

I clicked a link to various news articles. At first I didn't find much until one stuck out like a sore thumb. His promotion to head detective of the department.

The date read a few days before Valley Fest which intrigued me even more. As I read the article, the puzzle in my head began to slowly take shape. Just to clarify, I went to YouTube and googled videos of the fight.

None appeared.

That didn't make sense because there were at least 50 people with their phones out while we were taking on the football guys. Miguel's video of him clobbering Kyler and them last December was still up and gathering views to this day.

I nearly looked up videos of the school fight, but I held back. I bit my lip hard as the revelation that I still lacked the guts to witness those events became present.

I just couldn't be reminded of how badly I'd fucked up that day. I couldn't see Miguel go over that railing and slam into stairs. I couldn't do it.

Then it hit me, Miguel. He was still here.

Miss Diaz ordered me to stay put but I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. I'd spent the last week thinking I'd lost him forever. His odds still weren't a hundred percent which meant this could be the last opportunity I'd ever have to see my best friend.

"I'm sorry Miss Diaz," I whisper to myself.

I knew security cameras would be in the hallways but I'd be out of here soon. I had to take this chance or I'd regret it for the rest of my life if Miguel didn't pull through.

I cracked the door to my dark hidden hospital room. Miss Diaz had fortunately found a room near the back entrance in a hallway with predominantly empty rooms on all sides and very few cameras.

I wasn't sure exactly where to go in order to reach Miguel's unit, but I had a plan in motion just in case. As ashamed as I was about my new slandered reputation, there was one thing I could merit from.

The potential fear others had of me. As much as I wanted to stay hidden, I wouldn't be stuck in this hospital much longer. If I happened to run into a janitor or even a staff member, I wouldn't hide my face.

The state of California saw me as a threat and I absolutely did not plan on harming anyone here, but they didn't know that. As long as they assumed I'd go to any lengths to stay hidden, they'd comply with whatever demands I had. The most they'd get would be a broken phone. I couldn't risk cops because they'd block off all of the exits and I'd be trapped.

Despite the rooms in this dark and rather abandoned looking hallway being vacant, I tip toed just incase. My eyes were darting in all directions constantly, my hood along with the darkness of the room hid my face from cameras but the truth would possibly come out once they saw them the next day.

Finally, on the wall at the end of the hallway, I saw a map of the hospital. I was on the basement floor in the old surgery unit that had been replaced by the new facility relocated on the ground floor of the building.

The "You are Here" icon helped me map out how to get to the very top floor which was the Intensive Care Unit.

Miguel would be there for sure.

I considered using the elevators but I knew that would scream trouble if a janitor suddenly saw an active elevator or it managed to set off alarms. Stairwell it is.

The climb left me rather winded due to my still malnourished body. While I'd likely lost weight, I still looked decently well fed, but just wasn't used to going hungry. First world problems.

I could see lights on through the windows along with the sounds of staff strolling and amicably in the halls.

I knew hospitals were open 24/7, but I was grateful for the first time in my life that I'd had an extended stay in one when Noah nearly totaled my face years ago.

The ICU was typically dimmed at night and eerily silent. While some staff remained incase of emergency, they were almost always in an office and only checked on patients during certain hours. I'd been lucky to miss that window tonight.

Once I reached the top, the fear of getting spotted went away as the front desk had a chart with names of patients along with room numbers. I saw security cameras out of the corners of my eyes but didn't dare look into any of them.

I'd also passed by various wanted posters of myself and Robby Keene. I didn't count but I swore I saw more of me than him.

On habit, I immediately ducked under the desk when I heard a whistling sound.

An unfamiliar voice was whistling some tune I didn't recognize down the hall. I quickly grabbed the clipboard with the papers and squinted to read them through the darkness.

Finally, after a lot of quiet page flipping, I saw his name along with his room number. I peaked my head up from under the front desk. To my horror, Miguel's room was down the same hall where the whistling came from.

While I'd had a plan in place if I ran into anyone, I was hoping I wouldn't have to deal with that aspect. I sigh and take deep breaths in preparation for the possibility of this whole thing going to shit.

I considered turning back and just heading back to the room until Miss Diaz came back to lead me out, but I had to see this through. I had to see him… one more time.

I take one last deep breath to calm myself down and begin walking. Despite the floor being vinyl, I managed to avoid my shoes making a squeak sound by picking up my feet.

However, one specific step results in a squeak that echoes through the hallway. I freeze as the whistling stops. I hear footsteps coming from around the corner.

Luckily, I'm not in the hallway yet so I quickly dart to the wall in the lobby and stand completely still with my back against it. Just as I manage to make it out of sight, I hear the steps turn the corner and stop.

"Hello? Who's there?" A male voice casually calls out.

I snap my hand over my mouth to cover the sound of my breathing, but I'm hoping to God the sound of my thundering heartbeat doesn't give me away.

I hold my breath as I don't hear the footsteps move at all. He was still there. I had to catch him at a decently close distance or he'd have all the time in the world to turn, run away, and alert the entire hospital to my presence.

"Hello?" The man calls out one last time, but silence.

By now, my lungs are starting to burn from holding my breath for so long. What was he waiting for? Turn the damn corner.

After a few more seconds, the footsteps begin to turn back in the direction they came from.

"Fucking graveyard shifts," I hear the man mutter under his breath.

I quickly place my hoodie over my mouth and exhale. I take another breath then wait a few seconds before resuming my tip toe toward Miguel's room.

I make absolutely damn sure I don't alert him again. Finally, when I reach the corner, I peak my head and see the man.

It's a janitor with his earbuds in mopping the floor in the hallway while whistling that same damn tune. He's facing sideways from my view, but I can make out his dyed green highlights along with a single earring on his right ear. His skin was tan.

I close my eyes and say a silent prayer before walking in his direction. At first he pays me no mind, but he hears me as I get within 8 or so meters of him and he places a hand over his heart in a very startled manner.

I'm hanging me head so he can't see my face yet. Fortunately, Miguel's room was right to his left.

"Hey, you can't be here. Visiting hours resume in the morning," the janitor remarks in a stern voice.

I take a step toward him.

"Stop where you are or I'm calling security," the man orders.

That's when I resume walking and just when he's about to speak again, I pick my head up and look him fully in the eye with the most intimidating look I can muster.

At first he doesn't react but then he does a double take before I see the realization slap him square in the face.

"Y-y-you're… you're the kid from the news," he whispers in shock.

Instead of responding with words, I grab him by the front of his dark green scrubs and slam him against the wall, pinning him to it. He lets out a grunt and I place my forearm on his throat and press slightly to display the threat of "don't scream"

His breath lurches in his throat as he stares wide eyed at me. His gulp gave away the notion that he was utterly terrified.

"I'm going in for a visit. You're gonna stand guard here and no one, is going to know about this," I remark with the serious expression still on my face.

I don't let him go yet and tilt my head raising my eyebrows.

He understands my expression as he nods his head trembling.

Before moving my elbow away from his windpipe, I dig through his pockets until I feel his phone. I snatch it and drop it into the bucket of water to ensure he doesn't make a sneaky call to the cops while I'm in Miguel's room.

After that, I finally let the man go who inhales sharply and takes a few steps away from me with an expression of fear still on his face.

"Five minutes. After that, I'm gone. As long as you stand guard and don't alert anyone, I won't hurt you. I promise," I say glancing over my shoulder.

He nods his head frantically and I gesture to the mop on the ground. He gets the signal and scrambles to pick it up before resuming his work without his ear buds.

When I turn to walk into the room, the sight before me causes my hand to fly up to my mouth and a knot to bunch up in my throat. I take shaky breaths as I take in Miguel's hospital room.

Wires and machines all around the bed, a large keypad with a big blue coding button on the wall behind him, and Miguel himself lying shirtless under the blankets with a large neck brace that had four poles connecting to a piece that wrapped around his head.

The worst part however, was the lack of silence as despite Miguel's unconscious and eerily still body, the sound of the heart monitor connected to him nearly made me break down.

Beep…..beep….beep