I let out a startled cry and beside me, Wil gasps in shock. I was beginning to trust Aries and Aristelle. I was beginning to think that they are willing to go out of their way to help us achieve our goals wholeheartedly. Obviously, I stand corrected.

After all, why else would there be an order to search this house, of all places, for us? Unless the twins' parents don't trust them enough, but I highly doubt that. If their parents don't trust them enough, why would they reveal classified information about their project – about us – to them? It doesn't add up. The only logical explanation for this search is that they betrayed us.

Aristelle puts a finger to her lips, a silent gesture to tell us to be quiet, before motioning for us to follow her. I'm frozen with shock. I turn to look at Wil to see what his next move is. Without hesitation, he follows Aristelle into another room. I wonder why he doesn't feel threatened or even have the slightest bit of suspicions of them.

Without having to properly contemplate what the wisest next move is, I reluctantly hurry after Wil. We enter what looks like a home office and I close the door as quietly as possibly behind us. Bewildered, I sneak a glance at Wil. He catches my eye and shrugs – almost as if he knows the question that I want to ask – indicating that he does not know what is going on either.

I advert my attention to Aristelle. She pulls open a drawer on the office table that is situated in the centre of the room. She reaches to the back of the wooden drawer, perhaps to grab something. Instinctively, I scan my surroundings. The room is not particularly large, nor is it particularly small. However, it is nearly bare apart from the office table – messily stacked with papers and books and a calendar – located in the middle of the room, a black leather chair and a portrait of a family hung up on the wooden wall behind it. Upon closer inspection, I realise that the family in the picture is Aries and Aristelle's family.

A man with dishevelled black hair, presumably their father, stands in the middle. The wrinkles on his forehead make him look worn. The dark circles under his brown eyes on his pale skin suggest that he hadn't enough sleep. His shoulders are tense and his posture is stiff. He almost seems like he is hiding something. Maybe he is. I'll never know.

A woman – their mother, I suppose – stands beside the man, his arm around her waist. She is smiling, but even so, something seems off. The smile doesn't match her body language. Her blond hair is in knots and her eyes, though a beautiful shade of violet – Aries and Aristelle must have taken after her – looks blank. Her shoulders are sagged like she's exhausted. She looks worried, almost scared.

In front of them are the twins. They wear mischievous grins on their faces, oblivious to their parents' exhaustion and worry, having not a care in the world. Aristelle's black hair is tied up in pigtails with red ribbons. Aries's hair is tousled, but it suits him, making him look better, if anything. They are a lot younger in this photo, around five or six.

Next to the twins stands a girl whom I have never seen before. She looks sixteen, sharing Aries and Aristelle's violet eyes, but instead of black hair, she has blond, similar to that of the woman's. Her hair is in a single braid, reaching just below her shoulder. She carries herself confidently, giving the impression that she has nothing to hide. Her eyes are determined, but her furrowed eyebrows suggest that she's solicitous about something. There is an air of mystery about the portrait, as though everyone has a story that they don't want anyone to know. I wonder why.

"Miri. Miri," Wil's voice wakes me up from my daze.

I force myself to look away from the arcane portrait and my eyes meet his brown ones. The warmth that is always in his eyes makes me smile subconsciously. I look past him and notice that the wooden wall behind the table, along with the picture, is no longer there.

Instead, an entryway to another room stands in its place. The light from that room spills into the one we're in. The presence of light in the second room startles me briefly. I notice that Aristelle is not in the same room as Wil and I anymore and I conclude that she must have went in and switched on the lights when I wasn't looking.

I enter the other room behind Wil and a wall slides into place, separating the two rooms. It's almost as if the passage between the rooms never existed. Maybe that is the point. My eyes linger on the wall that divides the space into two totally different rooms, with a longing to observe the portrait more closely, possibly to figure out what everyone is hiding, to uncover the mystery of the picture. But I know we can't loiter around. As much as I don't want to trust Aristelle, I have no other options at the moment. I have to put my faith in her to hide us. We're running out of time.

This next room resembles the many labs back at the facility. A cold shiver goes down my spine as the uncanny similarities of this room to the labs bring back haunting memories. I shouldn't be shocked. After all, Aristelle's parents are the persons-in-charge of the project, us. It shouldn't come as a startling thing to me that the rooms are so alike. But for some reason, I still am.

The walls are white washed and the floor and ceiling are a light shade of blue. Glass cabinets filled with surgical equipment, tools and specimens line up side by side against the walls of the room. There is a sink in the left corner of the room with five white plastic chairs stacked beside it. The metal tap glistens in the light and the white porcelain basin is spotless. Several long metal tables fill up most of the space in the room. I'm surprised at how well maintained this room is, considering the mess of papers and books on the office table in the previous room.

Someone lays a hand on my shoulder. I jump a little, slightly startled, before realising that the hand belongs to Wil. I relax my shoulders, not noticing that they were tensed in the first place. "Let's go," he whispers, so quietly that I barely heard it. It's as if he's trying to hide from something. Or perhaps this room reminds him of the labs as well.

He grabs my hand and our fingers interlace, squeezing it tightly as though he doesn't want to let me go. He guides me to the trap door in the right corner of the room that I didn't even notice was there. It must have been very well camouflaged for someone like me to not notice it. The nervous feeling that has been brewing inside of me grows at the touch of his hand to mine. My heart starts beating so loudly that I'm almost certain that everyone can hear it.

"In here," Aristelle says in a hurried but hushed voice, gesturing to the hole in the ground which was previously covered by the door.

Wil nods and tugs at my hand. He lets go of my hand and goes into the dark tunnel. Aristelle puts a hand on his shoulder for reassurance and whispers something to him. He nods and climbs down the rope ladder that is attached to the floor beside the entrance and descends to as far as it leads. I peer down and I'm greeted with darkness, not able to see the bottom. It's either too dark or too deep. I'm hoping for it to be the former. Aside from enclosed spaces, depth is something I cannot stand. I'm afraid of going too far underground until no one can ever find me again. To most people, it's a petty fear. But not to me.

"Miri! You can come down now!" Wil's voice reaches my ears.

I nod, although I know he can't see me. I sit at the edge of the tunnel, my legs dangling below me for several seconds before finding the rope ladder. I prop both feet on it and start to descend the ladder. Before I am completely swallowed by the unknown called darkness, Aristelle puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it; a silent gesture that speaks a thousand words that have went unsaid between the two of us. I look up, my eyes briefly meeting hers.

Her black hair is pulled back into a high ponytail as usual, but this time, instead of her neat hair, it's tangled and stray strands fall into her eyes. She seems like she's in a hurry. From what? I guess I'll never find out. Her usually beautiful eyes resemble violet pools of distress and weariness, darting around the room, not able to focus on one object. Her pale cheeks are tinged pink and the dark circles under her eyes suggest that she hasn't been sleeping well. She's not the radiant girl I know. Her calm, cool demeanour is gone, replaced with agitation. This girl standing before me is nothing like the girl I've come to know in the past few days. I wonder what's making her so flustered. However, now's not the time to find out. Perhaps it's a personal problem that she can't share. Who am I to pry into her personal life? She has the right to keep her life private. After all, everyone has their own secrets.

"Good luck Miri," she whispers, her calm mask back on, hiding the distressed girl I managed to have a glance at briefly.

I nod in response, not trusting myself to say a single word without my voice breaking, and continue my descent to the bottom. As I climb, I can feel the twine burn into my skin due to my gripping to hard, but I ignore it. I'd rather have cuts on my hands than fall straight to the bottom and injure myself gravely. Before I know it, my feet reach the last rungs of the ladder. I try to find the ground but all my feet can touch is air. I know that I'll have to jump without knowing how high up I am from the ground; it's too dark to see. I lower myself as far down as possible until I'm hanging from the rope ladder, my hands holding my body up, preventing it from falling. My feet are still not on the ground.

"It's okay Miri! You can jump! I'll catch you!" Wil's voice drifts through the darkness and into my ears.

"How will you know where I land? It's too dark to see!" I call back.

A pause. "Just trust me." His voice sounds almost like he's pleading with me.

I bite my lower lip. My arms are starting to shake from the exertion of having to carry my whole body and the rope is starting to dig into my skin, cutting my hands, from holding on too tight. What other choice do I have? Either way, I'll have to fall. Best case scenario, Wil catches me. Worst case scenario, he doesn't. If he survived the drop from here to the bottom without anyone to catch him, I should be able to as well.

I close my eyes and release my grip on the ladder. I fall for the longest few seconds of my life, forcing myself not to scream, bracing myself for the hard impact. However, true to his word, I land right into Wil's arm. Upon catching me, he stumbles and falls, with me on top of him.

His face is so close to mine that I can feel his hot breath on my lips. I don't even have to see to know that we are merely inches apart, that the smallest movement would result in my lips touching his. I suck in a large breath of air, trying to regulate my quickened heartbeat that is due to both the jump and our closeness. This is not the first time we have been this close before – it happened plenty times before – but that does not make it any easier.

I put my hands on his chest and push myself up. Or at least, I attempted to. Instead of sitting on his lap, my arms give way, still worn from having to carry my body, and I fall to the ground beside him. I feel him shift beside me. He puts his hands under my armpits and hoists me up to my feet. Wil grabs my left hand for the second time in less than ten minutes and once again, our fingers interlace. My hands are minute, due to my petite body frame, but my hand fits perfectly in his, as though they were made for each other.

"I don't want to lose you," he whispers softly into my ear, as if he does not want to let anyone else hear it, although it's only the two of us down here, wherever we are.

After a few minutes of walking in the darkness, my eyes start to adjust to the lack of light. I can see the dim outline of the edge of the path we're walking on, which is slightly to the left of Wil.

There is another pathway several feet to the left after the end of the path we're on. To my right is a brick wall, so close that my arm occasionally brushes its rough bricks. Ahead of me, the concrete path extends further than my eye can see. The sound of lapping water fills the space. It almost feels like we're in some sort of drainage system. Just then, something clicks in my mind and I realise where we are.

"We're in an underground sewers, aren't we?" I mutter under my breath.

"Yes, Miri, we are," Wil replies, the answer sliding smoothly off his tongue, like he knew it all along.

My chest tightens and I feel like someone is squeezing out all the air from my lungs. My breaths become shallow and rapid. I feel as though the walls are closing in on me. Of all places, we had to be in a confined place underground. Yes, the sewers may stretch out further than the eye can see, but it's rather narrow. And we're underground. Two of my worst fears. At such a dire time like this, when we're running from our captors, when it requires my full attention and alertness. My shoulders tense and I swallow the lump that has been forming in my oesophagus.

Sensing my discomfort, Wil squeezes my hand reassuringly. "Don't be afraid, Miri. There's nothing to be afraid of. You're with me."

I exhale, releasing the pressure that has been building up inside me, and my shoulders sag. His words manage to calm me, as they always do. As we walk, the small stones on the concrete pavement crunch under the soles of our shoes. Aside from that and the occasional trickling of water, it is completely silent. I try to think of a conversation starter but fail as all my focus is in attempting to overcome my fears. But then again, there's nothing much to talk about. We're in the sewers heading to who-knows-where in the dark. Not much to discuss here, is there? All we can do now is to follow wherever this takes us and to hope for the best.

All of a sudden, I trip over a pebble. I let out a startled cry and my arms flail about, instinctively reaching out to grab whatever I can get a hold of to prevent myself from falling face first onto the hard concrete. I find myself holding onto Wil's warm shoulder and his arms hold me at my waist, successfully saving me from yet another fall.

"Thank you," I say, sounding breathless.

My grip on Wil's shoulder tighten as I regain my balance. I feel him wince under my grasp. "Are you okay?" I ask him tentatively as I remove my hand from his shoulder.

"I'm fine," he replies too quickly.

Suspicion fills me as I examine his face in the dim light. His forehead is glistening with sweat although the water makes the surrounding cool nor have we not walked very far. His eyebrows are knitted and he is biting his lower lip. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are pools of a feeling that is very familiar to the both of us.

Pain.

"You're hurt, aren't you?" I say in a tone that makes it sound more of a statement than a question.

He looks away, breaking our eye contact, refusing to answer my question. I clench my hands into fists, trying to figure out where his wound is and the possible injuries he could have. For some odd reason, my hands feel sticky. I unclench it and bring it nearer to my eyes so I can see whatever substance is on my skin. A patch of dark red liquid stains the palm of my hand. I bring it up to my nose to smell it so that I can identify the substance. A metallic odour drifts into my nose. At the same time, a wave of nausea hits me. My suspicions are confirmed.

"Let me see your shoulder," I mutter under my breath, but I know he heard it.

Reluctantly, he pulls off his shirt over his head one swift motion, wincing as he does so. True enough, his left shoulder is covered in fresh blood, indicating that the skin there is torn. However, the blood is blocking my view of the wound. Although I know I can't do anything about it now due to the lack of proper equipment and medications, I need to see the severity of the injury.

"Pass me your shirt."

He holds out his white shirt for me without complaint. As much as I can't stand the sight – and smell – of blood as it makes me nauseous, I have no other choice on the matter at the moment. I'm just hoping that I can withstand it long enough to stop the bleeding and to clean the wound. I smoothen out the article of clothing and fold it neatly before pressing it on the injury. He lets out a strangled cry through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry if it hurts, but I need to apply pressure to the wound." So that you won't become too weak and faint halfway through the escape I think, but I don't say it out loud. I'm confident that he can handle the pain – he's had to handle a lot worse back in the labs, I'm sure – but what I'm worried about is how far he'll be able to go without passing out.

I gulp as the cloth soaks up the red fluid, staining the white of the shirt crimson. The metallic smell of blood wafts through the air and reaches my nose. My vision blurs as another wave of nausea hits me. I press the shirt harder on the wound, hoping that it will quicken the clotting of the blood. His breath becomes jagged. So does mine. I start to feel lightheaded the longer I attempt to stop the bleeding.

"You don't have to do it if you don't want to," he breaths. The pain in his voice makes my knees go weak. I thought we would be done with all the sufferings once we escaped the facility. Evidently not. All we did was run into another cage filled with a whole different kind of suffering on its own.

A single tear escapes my eye and rolls down my cheek. It falls to the ground before I could brush it away, creating a small, wet stain in the grey concrete. A stray lock of hair falls onto my face. I close my eyes and another tear runs down my face.

"I wish it didn't have to be like this. If only we weren't experiments. If only we weren't created in the labs. We could have lived a normal life. A life without all the agony we have been through," I whisper, my voice strained.

"But if that's the case, I would not have met you. You would not be Miri and I would not be Wil. I wouldn't exchange a life this pain and agony for the chance to meet you." His voice is quiet but his words are whispered with such passion that my eyes start to water.

"Wil," I mumble under my breath, my voice breaking.

I open my eyes, trying to hold in the urge to throw up. Black spots dot my vision as I peel off the shirt from his shoulder, the smell of blood growing stronger due to the soaked shirt. I gag. My knees give way and I fall to the floor, dropping the bloody shirt.

"Miri!" Wil exclaims.

Those are the last words I hear before my vision goes black and I succumb to slumber and darkness.

Hey guys! Sorry for the late update! I know this chapter is long (it was going to be even longer until I realised that the first part of this chapter is already longer than the average chapter I write so I decided to split it). Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed it and also that you'll stick around for me. I really appreciate your support in this. Share this story to your friends and family. :) Don't forget to tell me your opinions on the chapter in the comments below or to vote this. Thanks guys!

Love, Angie