Milan heaved for air. It felt as if sandpaper abrased his throat for every breath he took. His legs gave in, and he fell to his knees on the damp earth.

“I… need a… break,” he said in-between breaths.

Eli crouched across from Milan. Trees hemmed them in from every direction, and their hundred branches curled toward the sky, the dappled daylight pricking through the leaves.

Eli buried her face in her knees. She hadn’t said a word since they’d fled. Then again, neither had Milan… except for what he’d just said. But still, something was off about Eli.

“Are you… okay?” Milan asked.

“I lied. I didn’t overhear the prosecutor covering your case.”

Milan’s eyelids dropped, and before he could say anything, a fist raced toward his face. Milan jerked backward. But it never hit. Instead, Eli narrowed her eyes, glaring at Milan, before dropping her arm.

“Kiddin’, kiddin’,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t hit my friends.”

Friends? Milan thought. She considered him a… friend?

Milan cleared his throat. “I don’t want to fight, either. I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I had my suspicions you were lying about the prosecutor. But the decision to escape was my own. I knew I’d get a guilty verdict.” His brows furrowed. “I was using you.”

Eli laughed, but this time, it was soft, almost gentle. “Nope. ‘Cuz then you wouldn’t have helped me back in the prison yard.”

“That’s because you helped me, too.” Milan scratched the back of his neck.

He inhaled, taking in the smell of grass and earth. Milan had no clue how much time had passed since they’d left. At least two or three hours. Or more.

He closed his eyes. The breeze caressed his skin, and birds twittered from afar. He still couldn’t believe it. That they had escaped. Of course, they had. It had been Milan’s plan, after all. Even though it wasn’t followed to the letter.

And Chet… was dead. But unlike his parents, he got what he deserved after betraying Milan. If Milan hadn’t found a way out of the breaker room, his life was done. Finished.

But Chet had his reasons. He betrayed Milan because he thought he’d killed his own parents. He called him a murderer. Did everyone think of him that way? A crazy murderer who killed his own kin and should rot in prison or die?

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No, not Eli. Or did she?

Their eyes met for a second, before she looked the other way. “I thought it’d be fun to break out.” Her voice was weak. It was as if a different person spoke. “But now I know why no one wanna hang out with me. I make a mess outta everythin’. Everyone’s dead ‘cuz of me.”

A line formed between Milan’s eyebrows. Did he hear right? Eli... felt guilty? She was human, after all. Not everyone could hide behind a mask forever. Milan opened his mouth to speak, to ask her if she realized it had been his plan and not hers, but she shook her head before he got the chance.

“Forget it. It’s borin’ to talk about. But MW–” she pushed her body forward, her knees and palms touching the ground. “How'd you know I lied ‘bout the prosecutor?”

Milan scoffed. “I didn’t know for sure, of course. But a good rule of thumb I follow is: assume everyone’s lying. Don’t trust anyone. If you follow these rules, you’ll never be betrayed.”

“Really?” Eli tilted her head. “I thought trust was a good thing.”

“You learn something new every day.” Milan stood, brushing the dirt from his pants. “We’ve wasted enough time. Let’s go.”

Eli stared off into the distance. “You hear that?”

Milan pricked up his ears. A continuous gurgle trickled in the distance.

“A river,” Milan said. “Let’s take a look.”

They ambled in the direction of the sound, twisting between the trees until they reached the source. A stream rippled along a twirling path, forming into a pond by their feet.

“This is a good place to wash up,” Milan said. “We should hurry, in case…”

Eli kneeled and plunged both hands into the river, wetting her sleeves. Then, she slurped as if she’d never tasted water before.

Milan sighed. His reflection in the water stared back at him. Half of his face and hair were painted red, washing over his dark-brown eyes. His hand, too. He had to have cut himself with that pocketknife.

Milan slipped his hands into the water and splashed it onto his face. The liquid felt cold against his skin as it slid down his parched lips. He hadn’t realized how thirsty was. He cupped his hands, ready to drink when a sound arose from a distance.

“They couldn’t have gone far,” a voice said. “You must search every crook and cranny of this place.”

“Yessir!”

Eli leaped upright, ready to break into a run, but Milan grabbed her arm and shook his head. They were too close. They’d hear them if they ran away. And Milan already knew what would happen next. They’d get caught.

Or worse, they’d end up like Chet.

Instead, they kneeled behind a thicket, dense enough to keep them hidden, out of sight. Milan wasn’t sure if he was breathing. The seconds felt like minutes as the time dragged on. Scratch that; time stopped moving at all. The rattling sound was nearing.

Milan squeezed Eli’s arm. Through the stems, a pair of legs came into sight. One more step. If he took one more step toward them, they’d be seen. It would be over.

A scream rose in the air.

“Over here! I found one,” another voice said.

“No! I don’t wanna go to prison!”

The legs stood still before jogging in the opposite direction of the stream.

Milan let out a breath. He didn’t realize he’d been holding it. Or squeezing Eli’s arm. He nodded, meeting her stern gaze. Then, they bolted off into the distance. Into the city.