I was released after two and a half days, and it was one of the most liberating feelings in the world. No more tubes, no more prodding and constant questions and I’d get to eat real food again that I could trust wasn’t poisoned.

Best yet, my side didn’t hurt like it used to. They gave me a prescription for more painkiller, even if it wasn’t the really heavy duty stuff, it was a lower dose I was told I could take more often and the new stitches were holding nicely. I was exhausted, but I felt more relieved than anything to be out of there.

Mom was concerned about how I had gotten myself stabbed but after deflecting her question a couple times, she’d gave up on digging for an answer right away. It would more than likely come up again but for now, she was happy I was okay.

Dad made dinner that night. It was simple, spaghetti with sauce, but I hadn’t eaten properly in days so I helped myself to a second plate and then, for the first time in so long, let myself be tired.

Henry volunteered to keep watch, though he’d stay in his room and be subtle about it. I set an alarm for midnight so I could let him get his own sleep without worrying about me.

I knew I was safe here and since I no longer had a raging fever and an injury that was slowly consuming me from the inside, I was more ready to sleep peacefully, unaware of exactly who was doing what and where in the house.

I slept so deeply that night, and woke up with my alarm just to fall asleep again until the alarm went off for my usual school routine.

I got up, got dressed, brushed my hair, brushed my teeth, ate some toast and headed out the door with Henry close behind.

“You’re feeling better,” he said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I slept more last night than I have in weeks.”

“I'm glad,” he said.

“Thanks for always being there for me,” I told him.

“I may not have known you for most of my life but you are my sister.”

I dared a glance at him then pulled my hood up. We were starting to approach the bus stop, closer to the main roads and I didn't want anyone from my old life to spot me. I couldn't stay inside and hunker down forever, and the camp could search forever if they really wanted to. It was better to get used to hiding in plain sight. I didn’t like the chances of never getting seen, but I would handle it when the time came. I’d done it once now, even if it had almost killed me. I could do it again.

The bus came and picked us up at the usual spot at the end of the road. The dick-trio kept their distance and left us alone.

I stared out the window, in part to keep an eye on the reflections of the people around me, but also in part to watch the trees go by. This was such a rural area, with the houses spread far apart. The camp was in a similar area, but also not far from one of the smaller cities so when we were out and about we were typically in that urban setting. Otherwise they kept us inside.

There was something peaceful about having the separation between then and now. I wondered what I should do about the camp and the director. I didn’t really want anything to do with them anymore but people were still getting hurt because of them. If I was a good person, I realized, I’d go to the police and tell them what I knew, even if it meant putting myself in danger. That was part of being a selfless person and wanting to better the world.

But it also meant I’d forever have an open contract on my own head. A contractor would become a contractee.

There was something poetic about that. It was the first time I had a chance to step back and see myself in the future. I’d either get hunted down quickly or forever live with the paranoia.

But I had to live with paranoia anyway, so it would be better to take my chances and rely on the police.

I realized as the bus pulled up to the school, that it wasn’t even that difficult a choice. I should do it, I could do it and in the end I could only gain from the outcome.

My stomach still churned anxiously until I got into class when my brain was distracted by the course work. It felt nice to be back into the routine, and to want to be in the routine.

I looked for Mia before class, but could only find Vic and Sarah who said she was sick or something. They still welcomed me into their conversation without her, which I appreciated. We split ways after the bell rang and went to our classes.

Third period came and I went to Ms Rico in the Reading Room.

“Oh Taylor,” she greeted me with a smile. “I heard you were in the hospital.”

I nodded. “I’m better now,” I told her.

“I’m very glad,” she said and pulled a chair out at my usual table and sat down. “You look like you’re feeling a lot better.”

“I am,” I told her. I took my seat and started to pull out my books and reading things. “I think I can start to focus again,” I explained.

“That’s good, but don’t push yourself if you’re not ready,” she said.

“I’m ready,” I told her.

“Are you su—”

There was a rapid knock on the door before it opened.

Ms Rico and I both looked up to find one of the front office clerks standing there, and behind her a uniformed police officer.

I was stunned. What had I done now?

Or— what had I done that they found out about?