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With no one around to hear I scream.

Half from frustration and half from the pain of having bloodied my raw wrists with the rope burns. The blood that drips slowly between my palms and off my fingers looks exactly like how they did the time I purposely made my arms run with crimson. At least then, it was my own choice.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to control the panic boiling in my stomach. Think, Lyric, think.

I take in the contents of the tool shed for the hundredth time. The inside smell of moldy wood, dirty boots, and animal droppings continues to burn my nostrils. I've been here since before dawn and judging from the sunlight pouring in through the cracks in the barn door, it must be in the afternoon.

Harden hasn't forgotten about me. The fire in the South field must have been worse than Michael thought. They'll be back to get me just as soon as the sun goes down. That still gives me more than five hours to sit with my wrists tied to a barn post with nothing to do but wait for my hanging.

Everything that would be useful to me is too far away to reach. All the saws, field reapers, and hunting knives are securely hanging from the barn wall, dozens of feet away. They mock me with their glinting, sharp edges. Closer to me is a handheld plow, leaning against the open stall of the barn. I get as close to the post holding me as possible and stretch my foot out to the plow, trying to tip it with my worn shoe. I don't know what I'm thinking by this point. It doesn't matter because I can't touch it anyway.

I drop my foot and scream again. It helps a little.

Exhausted from twisting and reaching I drop my head against the post. What was I thinking? I didn't really believe I could escape. I had been so stupid and not even very careful. It was almost like I didn't care if I was caught, because free or captured running would decide my fate. If I escaped I wouldn't have been free anyway. The few slaves that make it from their plantation rarely get very far and they wouldn't easily find help. Even other slaves might turn them in.

If I was recaptured I was going to be free too. Death would be my escape. Saying I'm sick of the monotonous, human less life I have doesn't come close to the truth. Last night and for a long time I've wanted to die, but now death seems even closer than when I watched my own blood trickle into my hands.

The image of Mari lying on the wooden stage, brutally and thoughtlessly murdered burns in mind. What do I define as better off dead anyway?

I don't want to die. My life might not be worth much, but it's all I've got. And as I admitted to before, I'm pretty selfish for a slave.

My eyelids close to combat the burning sensation behind them. I haven't cried since I was little, and I'm not going to start now.

I might as well enjoy the stillness and quiet of the barn for the time I've got left. Peace is rare around here.

Bump.

My eyes fly open and my heartbeat quickens. They're coming already? Everything is quiet for a moment, then the barn door creaks open.

Creaks open? Why would they be sneaking in?

A shaft of light let in by the opening of the door, shoots out like a beam towards me. I'm at the back of the barn, near a stable door. I move my body out of the way of the light, my breathing stilling. There's no reason for them to be sneaking around. They can just come in and kill me.

The line of light grows wider on the dirt covered barn floor. It quickly disappears as the door is shut again. Soft quiet footsteps make their way across the floor, steadily drawing near me.

What, it's not enough they're going to kill me--they're going to play a game too?

Anger instead of fear burns the inside of my chest. I pull myself closer inside the shadows. The steps grow closer and I count the seconds until whoever it is passes right near my post. Sticking my foot out quickly, I bite my bottom lip as a man's heavy weight stumbles over my leg. I hope it's enough for his face to fall right on the sharp spikes of the plow.

It's not unfortunately. He lands on his hands and knees, obviously startled as he swings his gaze around to me.

My eyes widen with confusion, it's not a white man at all. He's black, but my first thought isn't that he's a slave. He doesn't have that bent forward posture or the constantly hopeless look of a person that is owned by someone else. His light brown hair isn't dull and his skin isn't brittle. He even looks well fed and his bones aren't sticking out on his tall frame.

He doesn't belong on this plantation.

We don't say anything; we just stare at each other for a long moment.

"Nick," a voice calls. A girl appears in my line of sight. She pauses, momentarily surprised to see me, then kneels beside the young man. "Are you okay?"

I watch them, not able to think clearly enough to decide what is going on. "Who are you?" I croak. "What are you doing here?"

"Who are you?" the girl replies, looking at me out of the corner of her eye with most of her attention on the man.

"I asked first."

She considers this. "True." She's a beautiful girl, with a mane of nearly waist length curly hair and a delicate small nose and features. But there's something about the way she's looking at me that tells me she's a pistol in disguise.

Like her friend—Nick—she looks too alive to be a slave.

"I'm Rene. This is Nick."

Nick scowls, standing to his feet and pulling the girl up with him. "Nice, Rene, anything else you want to tell her?"

Rene rolls her eyes lightly. "Relax, Nick. She's tied up, she probably won't turn us in."

Nick scoffs. "Probably? Yeah now I'm relaxed." He frowns down at me and I realize how tall he is. "Why'd you trip me, anyway?"

For some reason, I don't tell him I thought he was a slave master. Instead I ask again, "What are you doing here?"

Nick wrinkles his forehead. "Keep it down, kid. You trying to get us caught?"

Caught? So, he's a running slave.

Rene holds up a rope and a hunting knife. "Supplies."

"You're stealing," I mutter, somewhat impressed. It takes a lot of guts for a slave to steal from a plantation. "You're free slaves, aren't you?" I guess quietly.

Free slaves are something of a myth in the slave community. They are whispered and gossiped about, but getting caught talking about free slaves is enough to warrant a swift execution. It's too much to believe that there are rebel blacks actively plotting, planning, and fighting against white owners.

Before either of them can answer a noise outside causes all three of us to start. Nick touches Rene's arm before jogging toward the front of the barn. He opens the door the barest crack and presses his eye to the slim opening that allowed a sliver of light in.

 "Rene, we have to go someone's coming." He closes the door and hurries back to us.

Rene nods her head at me. "Promise not to tell?"

I almost say that of course I won't, but a thought stops me. For eighteen long years, I've lived inside of a cage. I'll do whatever it takes to get the door open. If this works I have everything to gain and nothing to lose. "Why shouldn't I?"

Rene raises her eyebrows, walking a little closer to me. Nick scoffs. "I knew it. We're going to have to gag her."

I turn around to face Nick. "Try it and I'll scream. Whoever's outside will hear me and we'll all be killed."

"Why would you do that? Turn us in I mean," Rene asks.

I feel the ropes on my wrists itching my skin as sweat dampens the hair to my scalp. Here it is, moment of truth. "I won't," I pause for only a beat, then rush through the next line. "Not if you untie me and take me with you." Silence falls upon the three of us. My knees creak and pop from bearing my full weight for hours.

Rene's eyes drift up to Nick. I can't make out what her expression is saying, but Nick apparently does. "No."

I can't tell if he's telling me or her, but either way that's not the answer I'm taking. "You're taking me," I say with more authority than I feel. "I mean it."

Nick rakes his fingers agitatedly through his hair. "You really can't make demands right now."

"Yes, I can. If you leave me here tied to this post, I'll make sure the whole plantation knows you're here. You don't want to get caught and I can't stay here."

"She has a point," Rene says softly.

"Not helping," Nick mutters. "We can't take her with us."

Rene nods at me. "Where do you want to go?"

My mind races as my heartbeat skips a beat. "I don't know. Canada, maybe."

"Forget it. We are not going all the way to Canada," Nick says with finality in his tone.

"True," Rene agrees. "But we could take her half way."

Nick's flicks his gaze at her as he opens his mouth to protest, but apparently changes his mind when they lock eyes. They have a silent argument, while staring at each other. Now isn't the time to focus on the small stuff, but it's a little strange.

"Running out of time here," I remind them sharply.

Nick groans. "Fine, we don't have time to argue about it. Halfway, and she better not slow us down." He takes the knife from Rene's hand and walks over to me. I can't keep myself from flinching as he stoops in front of me and brings the knife close to my wrists. He saws through the ropes until they break loose. My wrists fall apart and a breath of relief rushes through my lungs. I gingerly rub the stinging flesh and press them against my chest.

Nick moves away from me. He hastily stuffs a bag around his shoulders full of rope, knives, and saddle blankets.

"Hope you're a fast runner," Rene says pulling my attention to her.

"Believe me, I will be." I stand up slowly, both of my knee caps popping loudly as I stretch them out.

"Hey, what's your name?" Rene asks while winding the roping around her waist and tying a knot into it.

"Lyric," I respond absently, tracing my fingers along the red lines on my arms. My stomach muscles clench and my vision swims before my eyes. It's probably from dehydration and hunger, but being tired and hungry is a lot better than being dead.

"Hey, kid," Nick tosses a bag at my chest. It's heavy and I clumsily catch it, feeling the burlap hit my wrists. "You traveling with us, you're gonna pull your weight."

I adjust the bag over my shoulder, careful to keep the burlap strap away from my hands.

"How are we gonna get out?" Rene asks. "There's no back door, right?" This question is directed at me.

"The only other exit is the loft barn door."

"Then that's where we're going," Nick says. The barn door opens and we jump out of the way of the light. Nick waves us toward the ladder that leads up to the loft.

I go first, gripping the rungs in between my hands and climbing as fast as my legs will allow. Rene is on my heels, followed by Nick. Once I reach the top, I crawl into the straw that covers the second floor.

Below footsteps track along where the tools are left. Whoever it is probably doesn't realize I'm supposed to be there.

"Where are the rake hoes?" a man's voice mutters.

My heart squeezes in my chest. "They're up here,"I hiss to Nick and Rene. 

"Time to go—now," Nick whispers. He pushes the loft doors open as quietly as possible. I've been sitting in the dark all day, so the sudden light burns my eyes.

Nick looks down at the ground. Fortunately no one else is outside. "Alright, who's first?"

"Are you insane?" I sibilate. "If you want us to break our legs we might as well just stay here and be caught."

Nick rolls his eyes. "I'm not stupid, kid. Look." I do and see a wagon of hay positioned right beneath the loft doors.

"I'll go first," Rene volunteers. She taps my shoulder and flashes a reassuring smile. "It'll be fine."

Nick and I watch her as she positions herself at the edge of the loft. Before I exhale my next breath, she jumps.

Nick and I lean over the edge to see if she's alright. She landed safely on her back in the hay, and waves up at us. Nick releases a quiet sigh of relief, before turning to me. "You're next."

The bones in my body stiffen at the thought of throwing myself out of a second story barn door. But the first rung of the loft ladder creaks and that fear dissipates. I stand at the edge of the loft opening and my feet are suddenly on air. It feels like minutes before I slam into the hay, but it was only a few seconds.

Pushing my fist against my lips my lips to keep from groaning, I force myself to tumble out of the wagon so Nick can follow.

As soon as I'm out of the way he jumps down and then without saying a word, the three of us run like our lives depend on it—and it does.

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A/N: I'm not really happy with this chapter for some reason, but maybe I'll figure out what i don't like about it later. But i hope YOU like it. Lemme know :) 

Can't wait for Zeke's chapter. It's a good one.