No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no—

The whole way to the factory, we've been trying to convince Minho to call the police instead of entering that building on our own, and we finally convinced him once we arrived.

They'll be here in a few minutes. But standing there, in front of the giant, gray building was unbearable. So we went inside.

The biggest room was completely empty. We found a smaller room with an unmade bed and nightstand, on which a half full water bottle stood. It took way too long to find the room we were looking for.

It's the tiniest one of all. Two wooden, empty chairs are placed on the floor, like Lelia mentioned. Ropes are still tangled around the objects. There's little trails of blood on one of them.

That was the worst part, until we saw what's lying right in front of the chairs. Thomas's blue suit and Lelia's purple dress. Lying in a blood bath. Soaked with the red liquid.

"It's a trap," Minho says, the lump in his throat hearable. "They won't kill them."

"If it's a trap, they would've hurt us already," Newt mutters.

"Not if they know the police are on their way."

Both of them got a point. I wish they didn't. I wish we would've just found them and would be able to take them home safely.

"I think this is to scare us," Brenda responds. "They might as well just have taken off their clothes, lay them down, and soaked them with blood."

"What blood? Who's blood?"

She eyes Eli, frustrated. "I don't know— could be their blood, could be from those bags they have in hospitals. But Minho's right, I don't think they'd kill Thomas and Lelia."

What's worse if we're never even going to find them anyway?

I'm losing my patience and hope to find them. These men have probably planned this whole thing out. They wouldn't randomly risk things with the call Lelia made.

☀︎︎

The long drive back was rough. I feel the exhaustion washing over me by the time I'm lying in my bed, next to Newt, who's been quieter today than before.

"I'm so worried," he whispers. "I don't know what else we can do to figure out where they are, Lynn."

The desperation in his voice physically hurts. My heart keeps on sinking deeper. It's replacing the bad feeling I always have in my stomach with something worse. Something more painful.

"Me neither," I whisper back. "But the police got some clues at the factory today. That might help."

"Yeah," but he doesn't sound convinced.

I pull him as close as possible, our foreheads touching. I feel his heartbeat through his elbow, slow but unsteady. The soft blows of air coming out of his nose hit my skin. I can't be bothered by it in the slightest.

"Good night." I kiss his forehead. "I love you."

He smiles. "I love you, too."

I close my eyes before I start focusing on his touch. The warmth coming off his body and the familiar smell of h— wait, did I just tell him that for the first time?

My eyes jump open. "What was that?"

"What?" He mutters, already sleepily.

"Have I told you I love you before?"

"No. Neither have I told you... is that a problem?"

"So that was the first time."

Newt hums. "Mhm. But I suppose it's obvious you love me and I love you."

"True. It felt kinda natural," I admit.

"Yeah." He lets go of a small laugh. "That's why we didn't notice."

The corners of my mouth rise up. "Probably. Well, good night now."

"Good night." A kiss on my smile before we do actually close our eyes.

☀︎︎

"Lyndon!" A loud, desperate shriek echoes from outside, straight into my room. My curtain makes sounds each time it claps against my wall because of the wind. Since when is my window open?

"Lyndon!" Loud sobs. Scrunching sticks and leaves. "Lyndon—" the female voice gets interrupted by her own scream.

I shoot straight up. Lelia.

My eyes go to Newt, who's sleeping through it. When I glance out of my window, I see her. The purple dress is shining because of the moon. The breeze makes her hair fly up.

She screams my name again. I start moving. I jump out of bed, past Newt, and rush downstairs. In a second, I've taken the keys off the table and am outside. I run to the back of our house, barefoot, right in front of the cornfields.

She's no longer there.

I whip my head around, tense. "Lelia?!" I call.

She yells back a few feet away from me, inside the first cornfield. With a deep breath, I rush in there.

The plants are towering over me, shadows so big that the moon—my only light—just floats away. I feel sticks against my bare body parts. All I'm wearing is a shirt and pajamas shorts, after all.

"Lyndon!"

I rush to the right, further into the field. I swear she's calling my name from there.

But when I arrive; nothing.

"Lyndon!" Further and further into the field, until I'm breathing so heavily from running, that I have to stop to catch some oxygen. Though once I stop, I get overwhelmed by the danger of these plants and all the bad things that can happen in cornfields come rushing back to me.

"Lyndon!" The voice ebbs away, slowly. Every time she yelled by name, it got quieter, and this one fades into a silence.

I'm alone. In the middle of the cornfield. I'm alone in the middle of the cornfield with no Lelia or Thomas anywhere. Just darkness and coolness and the tickling bugs and plants.

Gasping and panting, I awake. I'm straight up in my bed. Reach for my pillow or Newt. I think I've got it— I hold it up. A stick.

After blinking a few times, I look around. I'm not in my bed. I'm in the field, shrinking in my own skin.

It was a dream, and I sleepwalked in it.