Page 86 of Runaways

It takes a few seconds to convince my body that I need to run, but I do. I stumble back through the crowd and then to the kitchen, pushing my way through the sliding door leading to the backyard, and then run toward the street, slipping and sliding on the muddy, wet grass. I eat it when I step off the curb, rolling into the street beside a parked sedan only two houses down from Zoey's.

My chin burns, and when I wipe it with the back of my hand, it comes away bloody. "Fuck."

I glance toward the house just as the two of them step out onto the porch, and "Jason" pulls a cell phone from his pocket. Milliseconds after he finishes typing, my own phone vibrates.

UNKNOWN You can jump, but you can't hide. You know that.

Heart pounding and hands shaking, I pull myself to my feet and run. I don't look back to see if they're following; I don't want to know. I keep running until I'm at the top of the staircase, standing in front of my apartment door. After fumbling with my keys for longer than I'd like and dropping them once, I finally get the right one into the lock and turn it, practically falling into the apartment once it opens.

I bolt the door quickly, backing further into the room until I hit a wall, and then slide down onto the floor with my hand over my heart and try to catch my breath.

They're here. There's nothing I can do about that now.

I take my phone out of my pocket and read the texts again before replying.

What do you want from me?

What are you going to do to me?

I hit send and wait, staring at the screen, but minutes go by, and I don't get a reply. I pull myself to my feet and make my way toward the bed, freezing when I see what's waiting for me on my pillow.

A pack of Skittles with a post-it note on the front:You forgot these.

It's Silas's handwriting.

They were here—somehow, they were here inside my apartment despite the locked door. A chill runs up my spine. There really is nowhere to hide now.

My phone vibrates in my hand, catching me off guard, and I scream, letting it fall onto the hardwood floor. I take a second to compose myself before I drop to my knees and pick it up.

UNKNOWN I guess that depends on you.

What does that mean?

UNKNOWN You know the name of the game, Noah.

What if I don't want to play anymore?

UNKNOWN Then you'll only make it worse for yourself.

UNKNOWN Honestly, Noah…what did you think was going to happen?

"Fuck!" I say aloud, letting it drop to the floor again. I fall back onto my ass and drop my head into my hands, my breath coming short and heavy until finally, I scream, curling into a ball and letting the tears fall. "FUCK!"

That's the last thing I remember before letting my eyes close.

thirteen

Sex, Drugs, and Manslaughter (not necessarily in that order)

Noah

"You're getting better at that, Delilah," Tate says from behind me as I throw back another shot of whiskey. He wraps his arms around my waist, and I sink into him, his breath tickling my neck before he presses his lips to my throat.

Right here—in the middle of this bar, for everyone to see.

Granted, we had to leave our small town and find another smaller town where no one knew us so we could get in with our fake IDs, so the people here are strangers. Still, it feels good to feel wanted, and it feels even better to feel wanted in front of other people. I can't quite put my finger on why.

So, when I follow him back to our booth, and he pulls me onto his lap, I let him. Silas sits across from us, placing three beers down on the table and opening ours for us before sliding them over.

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