He's not going to let me free.
One thing I've learned during my imprisonment on this fucking planet is that I have to look out for myself. No one else is going to save me. There is no knight in shining armor: no magical prince waiting to save the day. It's every girl for herself.
Every creature looks after themselves and nothing more, no one more.
There's nothing I can do but try my best to get out of here, to try to get back to Mirroean. There's no telling how I can make it happen. There's no way to predict if I'll be able to get back to the visitor's area of the planet or if my ship is even still there.
If my parents are dead, will the ship be waiting for me?
If they aren't dead, did they look for me?
I don't even know. I have no way of knowing. All I know is that I have to escape. I have to get away. I have to find a way to break free.
I have to.
I turn the corner and start to run. I can't remember how far it is to the entrance of the ship. All I know is that the idea of staying here, locked in a little room, living as some alien's plaything is horrifying. I have to escape.
So I run.
My feet hit the floor and I move. I'm exhausted and my hands hurt and I think they're starting to bleed again, but I push down the pain and keep moving.
My mother needs me.
My father needs me.
Darin needs me.
I need to escape.
My feet keep moving, but suddenly, I start to feel dizzy, and I slow down. Maybe I should sit down for a second or two. Maybe I should rest for a minute before I try to escape. The whole hallway begins to spin and I decide that yes, sitting down is definitely a good idea. My ass hits the floor and I lean against the wall and close my eyes.
"Come on," I say to myself. "Come on. You can do this. You can do this. You can do this."
I keep talking to myself for a few minutes, but then I remember I'm supposed to be escaping, and I get on all fours and decide to crawl the rest of the way. Standing makes me too dizzy and I feel too weak. Yes, crawling is a good way to get out of here. Only, my cuts have definitely started bleeding again and I'm leaving bloody hand prints on the floor as I move.
It'll be okay, I tell myself. It'll be okay because the bastard who bought me deserves to have to clean his floor. He stole me. He thinks I'm a possession. He doesn't even think I'm a real person. He doesn't even think I'm human. He just thinks I'm something that can be bought or sold or used or thrown away.
That's all I am.
I don't know when I started crying, but my tears are hitting the floor, along with my bloody, and soon I stop crawling and just lay down in the middle of the floor.
It's only for a minute, I tell myself.
It's only for a minute.
I need to cry for a minute, and then I'll keep going. I'll keep moving. I'll keep getting on with my escape.
"What the hell?" I hear a voice, and I realize it's him. It's Quinn. He's back to get me, to take me, to capture me. He's back and he's going to get me.
"No," I cry out, only my voice comes out as a hoarse whisper, and I try to move, but I can't. I'm completely exhausted and I can't move. I can't crawl. I can't even speak.
"Baby, you're hurting yourself," he says, and he picks me up easily, like I'm a little child. I suppose that next to a giant like Quinn, I am quite small. I feel small when I'm in his arms, and that's something I've never felt before. Fat? Yes. Huge? Yes. Big? Yes. Those are all things I've been called, all things I've felt. But he doesn't seem to think I'm any of those things.
He seems to think I'm small.
For a second, I allow myself to feel small and cared for and protected. He pets my hair as he carries me down the hallway, and even though I didn't get my escape, I allow myself to feel tiny for just a little bit.
I allow myself to feel like everything is going to be all right.