When he'd told her he had a plan, Finn hoped that by the time he'd said it, he would've come up with one. A stable, reliable one, anyway.

He lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his arms folded behind his head. The ceiling of his room was awesome - big wood beams held it up, and old-looking lanterns held by thick wire would sometimes swing back and forth in a strangely soothing way. The stars outside his window seemed to wink at him as if asking him what to do now. Why did I tell her I had a plan!? He sorely regretted telling Ash, but at the same time, he was glad he had.

He pulled his hand out from under his head, studying the red marks around them. He was slightly worried about them being that way forever but not too worried because it would be kind of cool. He held his wrist right in front of his face, squinting to see better in the dark.

Whatever Albert had forced down his throat had seemed to be helping, for a while at least. Now the burning feeling was coming back, and he hadn't missed it. He sighed, turning to get comfortable. It wasn't comfortable on his right side. Or his left. Or his back. His stomach wasn't any better. Finally, he sat up, tired, and annoyed. Why isn't this bed comfortable anymore?

He eventually found a comfortable position, relaxing as sleep finally started to sink in. As he was beginning to drift, a punch to the face woke him up all the way with a start. His heart was racing as he bolted upright, searching the room for his attacker. The room hadn't changed. His palms sweat, making him have to repeatedly wipe them on his pants. When the sharp pain subsided, he slowly got back into a sleeping position.

His heart still beat widely in his chest though, it seemed as though it wanted to run away for him. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to slow it. Come one, he thought. Heart, I'd really appreciate it if you let me- another invisible hand struck his face, making him sit up so fast, the room started spinning and tiny little stars floated in his vision. An idea popped into his head - maybe it wasn't sitting up so fast that welcomed them.

"Look, whoever's doing this - you really need to-" he was interrupted as something slammed into his gut, making him double over even though he was sitting on a bed. He grunted, clutching his sore stomach. "Not . . . funny," he wished he could get to the bottom of it right then. Suddenly, Ash popped into his mind. He ignored the fire raging in his muscles and jumped out of his bed, running through the hallway as quickly as he could.

His feet thumped over the carpet as loudly as they possibly could, most likely waking up everyone in a ten-mile radius, but he didn't care. He burst through the door that led to the hallway where Ash's room was. The lights in the hallway blinked on as he raced past rooms, momentarily blinding him.

Stolen novel; please report.

When he could finally see again, there were angry faces of tired girls all around him, glaring at him as he hurried down the hallway. When he thought about it, Finn didn't actually know where Ash slept, but he was at the point of no return, and instinct seemed to whisper in his ear.

He pushed through Ash's door - thankfully it actually was her door - rushing to her bedside and kneeling beside it. She was awake, scared, and confused, looking around the room for answers.

"Finn! What are you doing-"

"You felt it too - didn't you? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I don't know! I just woke up because I dreamed I was punched in the . . ." she looked at him as though he'd turned into a monkey or something. Apparently, the morning look really wasn't working in his favor.

"I know, I know. I just woke - well technically I've been-"

"Your eye . . ." his hand fled to his left eye, which had grown swollen at some point. Despite the darkness - the light coming from her open-door helped clear things up - he could see a giant blotch of swollen purple skin surrounding her left eye.

They both stared at each other, trying to figure out the other's problem until the yellow light from the door was blocked out as a crowd began forming.

Ash looked up as Finn turned to see who stood at the door. A group of girls was huddled in and around the door space, each with a different expression. Most had disgust, anger, confusion, curiosity - some of them he couldn't tell. An especially short girl stepped forward, her arms crossed and her chin tilted up.

"What's going on here!?"

Finn opened his mouth to speak but he was interrupted as someone pushed through the crowd. Jenna's long hair was frizzy and there were more than one rat's nests in it, her eyes had morning puffy-ness, and she was holding a fluffy robe around her. Everyone looked at her, waiting for what she was about to say.

"Finn? Ash? What's going on? Finn, you know you're not allowed-"

A ringing in his ears drowned her out, and suddenly a fiery pain exploded in his jaw. Then in his stomach again, then his chest. The air was sucked from him immediately and his vision started to tunnel. Not again, oh please not again! He willed himself not to pass out, despite his lack of sleep, trying to get back into a normal sitting position. For a terrifying moment, he thought he'd lost control - not that he had it, exactly - but he could just barely see everything around him.

Something screamed into his head, begging him to run. He didn't know where, he didn't know how far, just run. At first, he was sure it'd go away, but now he didn't know what else to do.

Somehow, he made it to his feet, ignoring everything around him, then pushed past anyone in his path, running down the hall as fast as he could. A small part of him knew what he was doing wasn't the best choice, but it was drowned out by confusion and panic.

He made it down the stairs but was stopped the moment he was face-to-face with Grean and his buddies. The foreign voice in his head urged him to get away, to go, to get out of this place. Grean said something, more confused than Finn, right before Finn ran past them, trying to get to the exit.

The doors to freedom were so close now, he almost made it too, if it hadn't been for whoever caught up to him and drubbed the back of his head.