I woke up aware of the stillness. The house was dark now. I crawled into the room and checked that the dresser was still in front of the door, and the window was still braced shut. Good, nobody had come in while I was out. 

It was very late. The clock on the desk read 3:12 so the normies should absolutely be asleep. I rubbed my eyes briefly before getting to my feet. I grabbed my bag and shouldered it. With a brief sweep, I determined there wasn't anything else worth taking and made my way to the window, walking as quietly as possible 

I took the board down and pulled the locks open. With two hands and a gentle pull, I opened the window, very slowly, hearing the frames rub against each other as they went. Any faster and I risked it squeaking loudly.

It stopped when it was almost completely open and I felt around until I found the tabs holding the screen in place, and gently pulled them open as well before lifting the screen away. 

The night air was cool and damp. I put one leg out, then the other and slowly pulled the rest of my body through behind. Then I gently pushed the window shut behind me. I didn't bother with the screen. Hopefully I'd be back at the camp by the time they realized I was gone.

The roof was sloped and gave me a challenge when both quickly and quietly getting to the edge and examining the distance down. There was a gutter along the front edge but the side was clear and sturdy so I dropped my weight down there and let go, dropping those last few feet. My knees took the shock with minimal pain.

I set off in the direction of the main road, and pulled the hood of my sweat shirt tighter over my face.

Most of the road was wooded, occasionally a large house or even a few trailers were tucked into large cleared spaces. All of their lights were off. I was still in the clear as I came up to the state route. I looked both ways. I knew I had to head south east, so I set off in the East direction. Eventually I'd come across either a phone or a map and then I'd be on my way… home. 

‘Home’ didn't feel like the right word for the camp. It was where I'd grown up, and where I'd lived. But being in that house had stirred up a different kind of memory. Home was supposed to be safe… and the camp would keep me alive, but that was all. Everything else was optional.

I shook the thoughts out of my head. The camp was where I belonged. I was made there and I was sure I wouldn't understand normal things by now. The director always told us the outside world was just as brutal but in an entirely different way and that we were lucky we were kept out of the cluster-fuck.

I kept just off the shoulder, keeping my steps careful as I crossed uneven, sloping terrain along the edge of the ditch. 

Headlights came around the bend behind me and I took a few steps closer to the wilderness.

The engine was grumbling as the vehicle slowly approached and I crouched, blending in with the surroundings.

Surely no one realized I was missing yet. Not even the Director would notice that quickly.

And yet the car that approached was the same dark coloured coup that had been parked in the driveway.

It pulled to a stop next to to me and I began to back away.

“Taylor?” the woman called over to me.

I went silent. My feet refused to move right away and it wasn't until she'd climbed out of the car and was beginning to approach me they snapped out of it.

I turned to go into the forest but she rushed forward and grabbed my wrist.

“Taylor, please,” the woman said. There was an unfamiliar emotion in her voice.

I pulled free.

“You don't have to go back,” she told me. “I know he told you something awful would happen if you ever tried to leave, but you don't have to. You're safe here.”

I froze. “How could you know?” I asked. Did she know about the camp? Did I need to dispose of her to keep our existence a secret?

“I don't. I can't imagine what you've gone through, but right now, you're back home and we won't let anyone take you away again.”

But… what could she do?

She took my hand again but this time, instead of pulling free I twisted myself around and struck her wrist with my other hand with a loud smack. I felt the shock of the blow deep into my elbow so I knew it had to hurt but she simply, calmly took my hand again. Her grip was loose and gentle, not constraining so much as supporting.

“I know you're scared,” she said. “It's scary for me too.”

She pulled me into a hug and I went unexpectedly limp in her arms. My energy was gone.

“Come home, okay? We can talk in the morning and see if you need to go back or not. And we can get you whatever help you need, okay?”

I remained frozen for a long time. Every instinct told me to run far away and get back to the director. At the same time, he had no way of knowing I was here. As long as I didn't run into any of the other contractors.

Could I really stay here?

The car ride back was quiet. The woman didn't ask questions. Everybody had been so far. So many questions. Who and what and when and where. But she was keeping to herself. When we pulled into the driveway she shut the car off and turned to me.

“I know you probably don't remember much about me or this place, but I do love you Taylor. No matter how much has changed, you're still my daughter.”

I stayed silent. It felt weird to be called a daughter by a woman I didn't really know or understand, and who clearly understood only some of me.

But I supposed she was my mother.

“I don't remember this place,” I admitted. “It feels familiar but that's it.”

She nodded. “That's okay, it's been twelve years. You were snatched away when you were four. That's a very young age to remember much of anything.”

I nodded. “Sometimes I wished I didn't remember anything at all.” Sometimes knowing that there had been a before-the-camp made being at the camp that much more difficult. A lot of the other children there had been taken in as babies, and they were usually the best at everything.

I'd always been good, but never quite so perfect.

My mother gave me an empathetic look. I could tell she was holding back emotion but I still couldn't really understand why. I'd been gone for twelve years. Hadn't she moved on by now?

“Let's get inside,” she said suddenly and opened her door.

I silently followed, turning my head away from the doorbell cam as we approached the house.

Some instincts died hard.