Page 60 of Runaways

"Hopefully, there's a bathroom. I'm gonna grab some food, too. You want me to get you anything while I'm in there?" Tate asks.

"Maybe an energy drink," Silas says. "Keep your head down, though. Put fifty on the pump."

"I know," Tate says.

He opens the door before sliding out from under me, and I keep my eyes closed, still pretending to sleep while I adjust to his absence, resting my head on the center console.

Silas gets out next, waiting beside the pump until he can begin refueling, and then sits in the driver's seat with the door open.

"I'm sorry, Noah," he says, leaning down and kissing the top of my head. "You're so pretty and so sweet, and I'm so sorry. You know how he is, though. Please don't hate me for it."

Yeah, I know how he is. He's a master fucking manipulator. He wouldn't be able to convince me to let him kill Silas, though. I don't think…

"Fuck. I should have told him to get you some Skittles." Silas sighs. "I'm just going to go get you some Skittles, sweetheart. I'll be right back."

He exits the vehicle, closing the door behind him, and my heart stops. My eyes shoot open, and I watch him disappear inside the building.

They left me alone.

This is it,I think.If there is any part of me that still wants to live—if I have any survival instinct left in me at all—I need to get up and run.

My body says no, but I do it anyway, moving in that too-heavy way I've moved in for weeks now. I open the door with my good arm, stumble out of the vehicle, and then limp across the parking lot and into the woods with no plan.

I don't make it very far—maybe I'm past the tree line for a couple of minutes before I hear Tate calling my name.

"Noah!"

My heart stops. I drop onto my knees and crawl under what I think is a blackberry bush and lie alongside a fallen log.

"Noah!" he screams louder this time, their footsteps coming closer and closer. "This is your fault! Why did you leave her alone?"

"She was sleeping! And there's nowhere for her to go—"

"Noah! Come back!" Tate shouts. "You'll die out here, Noah. You have to come with us."

"Tate…" Silas says. "We can't do this. We can't be out here screaming in the woods; we don't have time to waste like this. We need to go."

"I can't!"

"Tate…we need to go, or we're going to get caught. We don't have much time left until the sun comes up, and we don't even know if she went this way. She could have gone in the other direction; she could be running down the road right now. Someone might have even picked her up. We can't do this."

"You did this on purpose," Tate says, his voice cracking.

"I didn't."

"Noah!"

And then, I see him—maybe fifteen feet away. If he looked—really looked—he could see me, too.

"Noah, please come back! I promise I won't hurt you! I'll take care of you if you come back!"

He waits for a moment, scanning the area, his breath coming short and heavy.

He's crying. I realize he's crying, and then I have to cover my own nose and mouth with my hands so he doesn't hear me crying, too.

"Noah!" Tate screams. "Fuck!" He kicks at the ground and tears at his hair. "Goddamn it! Why the…how…" He drops to his knees, sobbing, and wipes snot from his nose with the back of his hand. "Noah, please!"

"Tate, someone is going to come back here, or they're going to call the police."

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