RYLEE

"Are you ready to stop playing cops and robbers and let us go?" I interrupt the big men as they laugh together. They stop abruptly and stare at me.

"Sorry darling, we were just discussing who gets the first go," Foley grins, shrugging off his jacket which he sets on a low metal table near the entrance to the room, along with his gun.

This plan better work! My brain screams as the two of them approach the door and unlock it, letting themselves into my cell. I can smell sweat and cigarette smoke, a scent so thick it nearly makes me gag. Jeremy's yelling threats and Caleb's pleading for them to leave me alone as I back away with my hands still clasped behind my back. Only one of the thugs follow, slowly, as if this is what he enjoys the most.

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of my neck and it sends a shiver coursing down my spine. Every instinct is telling me to get out of here. My muscles are tense and ready to sprint away, but there's nowhere to go. It's fight or flight; conflict or run.

"You stay the hell away from me, ugly cockroach looking freak," I spit at the man called Foley and his smile disappears. Too far? I gulp, stay focused – fight or flight?

He follows as I back into the cold bars and places a hand around my neck, squeezing firmly.

"You do not, talk to me, like that," he punctuates every few words by squeezing my neck a little tighter. I refuse to meet his beady eyes, which isn't as hard as my vision begins to blur. Fight or flight?

His breath curls down my throat as I struggle for air which my lungs begin to burn for. As he fumbles at my belt buckle with one hand, I flex my fingers over the smooth hilt of the dagger that has been passed to me between the bars. I'm going to pass out if he doesn't let go, I can't stall it anymore.

Fight!  I bring the knife around, stabbing at him with an upwards motion that connects just under his jaw. The feeling of the knife entering the flesh makes my stomach heave but I tear the knife back out again, the serrated edge shredding his skin. He collapses against me and I shove him away where he lands in a gurgling heap on the floor.

The other man dives at me and I duck away, twisting from his grasping hands. He stumbles too close to the other cell and the owner of the dagger snatches his greasy hair, pinning him against the bars. The thug squeals like a furious piglet as my saviour winds the long black hair into his fists. 

I brandish the knife in front of me like a sword as I back out of the cell, then hook my foot around the door and fling it shut to hear the satisfying clang of the automatic lock.

The other prisoner has gotten the keys from the man he's restraining and passes them to me so I can unlock his door, and my friends'.

Weird screeching sounds come from greasy-man when the boy lets go of so he spins back to the cell, pointing threateningly at the pooling blood, "you shut up, or you'll get worse than him."'

"Damn Rylee, are you okay?" Caleb's concern bores into my eyes as I unlock Jeremy's cuffs. My hands refuse to stop shaking and the key scratches over the metal for a few seconds before I get it in the lock.

I pause as they click open, "yea." My voice is painfully hoarse, it feels like I just downed a glass of gravel. I killed a man, I killed a man. The words consume my mind, though Foley's body is still twitching a considerable amount on the dirty floor as the last of his blood pumps from his carotid artery.

"We gotta go, now," the fourth teenager appears, standing at the hallway entrance holding a shotgun with a rucksack over his shoulder and Foley's smaller weapon shoved in his own belt, "who's the best aim?"

There's a few seconds of silence and we all just stare at him. His eyes are dark and scornful, which seems a little judgemental given our situation.

"Uh, I've been to a shooting range a few times..?" Jeremy offers.

The boy sighs and shoves the shotgun at him, "it's loaded and ready, shoot them, not us."

"Got it."

"Right, I say we get out through a window on the second floor, there's just an office up there and I'm pretty sure it's empty."

Jeremy nods and edges down the hallway to the stairs with Caleb. My limbs refuse to move so I stay fused to the spot, I can't tear my eyes from the man I've just slain.

"Snap out of it, he was going to do worse to you," the stranger snaps, slamming the door to the cells shut - effectively cutting off the screams of greasy-man as he tries to call for help.

His dagger is still in my hand, I can feel the blood on the leather handle sticking it to my skin. He snatches it from me before grabbing my arm and marching me up the stairs and into the office. The lock on the door has been busted and papers from file cabinets are scattered all around, as well as a large puddle of congealed blood on the lino floor.

The grip on my arm disappears and I flex my fingers which are sticking together uncomfortably as the blood dries.

"There's probably three guys on the roof, was when I was brought in, we'll be okay if they're facing away from us," the boy carefully opens the window, trying to see the rooftop. Outside there's a straight drop to the ground and the gap to the fence is much wider here than it is from the roof, but to get to the roof we have to climb along a narrow ledge.

"And if they're facing this way?" Caleb glances nervously at me, I see him from the corner of my eye. I just killed someone. I'm a murderer, Caleb.

I want to scream at someone, or at myself, but my tongue won't function.

With a grim smile, the guy climbs out of the window.

I blink desperately after the darkness inside as we each shuffle along the ledge, grasping onto a metal pipe. The newbie is frowning when we join him on the flat, concrete roof. There's only one other person up here and the bloody faced boy moves stealthily up behind him, latches an arm around his neck, and lays him gently on the concrete once the body sags into unconsciousness.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Jeremy whispers to Caleb and I as we watch sceptically.

"We can jump from the side of the building over here," bloody-face whispers, gesturing for us to follow. The barbed wire topped fence is less than two meters from the side of the building, but we'll have to land properly if we still want to have functional skeletons.

Shouting erupts from the ground and we crouch near the edge of the roof at the front of the station, thinking we must have been spotted. A group of three men are having a heated conversation about something, but don't yet seem to know their prisoners are missing.

"Look," Jeremy nods toward the east. A couple of blocks away dark smoke is rising steadily from one of the neighbourhood houses to join the already overcast sky.

"They would have sent men to check it out," bloody-face flexes his fingers - I should probably ask his name - "now's our chance."

But before any of us can move, a vehicle skids around the corner, heading straight for the gate.

"Em!" Jeremy yells, aghast, and I recognise the car as Caleb's. Jeremy leaps up and starts waving his arms like he's stranded on an island flagging down the only boat he's seen in months.

Emily must see because she swerves the car off to the side right before she would have crashed through the gates. Gunfire pierces the air, someone's turned to shoot at Jeremy as other thug's race to the ladder on the side of the building. The boy from the cells pulls him away from the edge as bullets pelt the brickwork of the facade.

The four of us stare frantically at each other for a millisecond, sharing a silent agreement. Together we sprint to the side of the building, and having nowhere else to go, we jump.

A/N

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