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11. Hope

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“You think we’ll get out of here?” Erica keeps her voice quiet, lest she wakes the girl sharing her and Boyd’s cell. The girl doesn’t speak to them, spends most of her time banging on the door until her hands are bloody. The smell of the blood makes Erica feel sick.

“We will,” Boyd says, pulling her tighter against him. She’s grateful for it; Erica hates not touching him, scared he’ll be gone the second he’s out of her reach, and it’s so cold wherever they are. “Derek and Scott will find us.”

Erica shakes her head, tears filling her eyes. “We left. Derek probably thinks we’re in Canada by now.”

“They do have a good health care system,” Boyd jokes, falling quiet when Erica doesn’t laugh.

She feels bad, he’s trying to make her feel better, get her out of this dangerous headspace, but she just doesn’t have the energy to laugh anymore.

“We’re never gonna get out of here, are we?” Vaguely, she realises that she should be panicking right now, but she’s just so drained.

“We’ll get out,” the girl pipes up from across the room. She props her herself up, looks at them with a blank expression. “Might not be alive, though.”

Erica breaks, then. Her body heaves with the force of her sobs, and soon she starts coughing. Tears and snot run down her face, and all she can think is I don’t deserve this.

“Aw fuck,” the girl says, and Erica can hear her moving. A cold hand brushes her cheek, smaller than Boyd’s. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Too late for that,” Boyd says, the tiniest bit of a growl in his voice. He pulls her closer, and away from the girl.

Erica’s cries are starting to quiet, embarrassment starting to set in.

“Whatever,” the girl huffs, walking back to her corner.

“What’s your name?” Erica croaks, rubbing her sore eyes.

The girl turns her head away from the wall. “Cora.”