They died because of me.
I suck in a breath as Matteo walks off again and rubs his forehead, clearly affected by the scene he witnessed. “God … They’re all dead,” he repeats.
“What about the girl?” I ask.
He sighs out loud, lowering his head, glancing at the floor beneath him. “I couldn’t save her.”
I shake my head, feeling the guilt etch its way into my heart, scratching away at it until there’s nothing left but scars.
I can’t. I can’t deal with this. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.
I turn around, open the door, and immediately storm off.
“Stella!” Matteo calls after me, but I ignore him as I run all the way through the hallway back to my room and wait until the guard locks me inside. The ring on my finger shimmers in the light, so I rip it off my finger and cast itaside, then fall onto my bed and cry out loud. Not for the loss of my freedom but for the loss of the innocent lives taken too early … taken because of me.
“Stella.” His voice echoes outside the door.
“Leave me alone.”
I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now except my mom, but she isn’t here. I have no one.
God, I can’t stay here, not another minute.
I wait until his footsteps disappear, and I’m finally alone again. With stained cheeks, I lean up from the bed and gaze at the door, trying to decipher if the guard is still there watching over me. I get up and walk closer, listening in.
Nothing.
I crawl to the floor and peek underneath.
No shoes. Nothing.
He’s really gone.
Maybe Matteo wanted me to have some time to myself, in peace.
I climb back to my feet, staring at the door with shuddering lips, then turn my head to look at the small window in my adjacent bathroom.
This is my only shot.
Without thinking it through, I bolt to my cabinet and pull out any short wire I can find, along with something to pry open a window—a spoon from my cup of coffee. I hurry to the bathroom, grab the stool in the corner, and scoot it up underneath the window.
When I sat in the bathtub, I noticed that this windowwas the only one in my room that wasn’t barred. It’s small and barely noticeable behind the curtain, but I saw.
And I don’t think they realized it might be big enough for a person like me to fit through.
I shove the big metal spoon I have into the space between the window and the opening, and then bend the wire until it’s got the handle. I push it through the window and curl it up until it hooks under the handle from the outside.
Sweat droplets roll down my back as I twist and push it farther up until the handle is far enough.
Click.
A smile slowly forms on my face.
It worked. It worked!
I nearly giggle, but then slam my hand in front of my mouth before any sound escapes.
I shove the window open fully and suck in the breath of fresh air I’ve longed for. Then I wriggle my way through the window like it’s a goddamn escape hatch, scrunching up my body in my small bathrobe until I fit through.
