10. Like Pyramus and Thisbe

Standing by a wall opposite the gymnasium – the gym no one seemed to ever use - I fumbled with a Walkie Talkie, and looked down the hall hoping to god that no one would suddenly appear and question my intentions.

Looking up, I waved at the camera above me. Everett was surely keeping an eye on the area, ensuring that I was keeping myself out of trouble.

The little red light below the lens twinkled on and off. "Safe to proceed," it seemed to tell me.

"Cute little trick," I thought aloud. "Useful."

I gave the camera a salute and mouthed a "Thank you," before attempting to speak with Greyson.

Feeling safe enough to proceed, I lifting the Walkie to my mouth, and just as I was about to speak, I felt my heart skip a beat. This was it. I was finally going to talk to him once again. I'd been looking forward to this for three whole days. So, then, why was I now stalling?

And why was I feeling so nauseous!

Come on, Ashlyn. Speak.

Was I really this nervous?

Why?

Oddly enough, it took a little longer than I'd planned to say a simple "hello". I had to gather a little more courage than I'd expected, to make myself speak first.

"Greyson?" I tried, after a long moment of just standing there like an idiot. I cringed at the way my voice cracked. "Can you hear me?"

Leaning against the cold wall behind me, I waited patiently for a response. But none came.

At first, I thought Greyson might have his Walkie Talkie turned off. Usually, both devices had to be turned on, in order for either parties to be heard. If he wasn't expecting me to visit him, perhaps he never made the proper arrangement needed to receive my incoming call.

I was about to look up at the camera and give Everett a "I don't know what's going on" shrug, but a sweet and gentle voice stopped me in my tracks:

"It's been a while, Ashlyn," Greyson said, followed by static interference.

My stomach ripped, shooting butterflies across my entire body. "Yes," I agreed. "It has been."

"Glad to see you didn't forget about me," he continued with flowing smoothness. "I have to say, I've missed our little conversations."

Save for the fact that my heart had yet to feel steady inside my chest, I was quite happy to finally hear his voice again too. But I wasn't about to admit that, so I settled with a mere:

"Course you missed our conversations," I said, with no ounce of sarcasm. "I'm not an asshole, like most people who come to visit you."

"You've notice them, have you?" He said.

"Sure have," I said plainly. "And they're asshole."

I could nearly hear his smile when he spoke again: "So, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay. After what happened yesterday. It's a miracle you're still alive."

He hummed with understanding. "You saw all that?"

"Everett showed me."

He sighed. "Great."

There was a lingering pause. Not surprising, considering what happened in that room must be a very vulnerable thing to share with somebody, and I had recently watched the entire event without his consent.

"I'm sorry, I watched that," I sputtered. "I just, I think it was something that demanded my attention." I worried my lip. "It made me realise where I stood."

"And where is it that you stand?" Static hissed.

My head leaned back against the wall and I closed my eyes. I peered down at the beige linoleum floor, there were a few scuff marks smearing the surface, and I decided to rub them off with the tip of my shoe. "I stand behind you," I said into the buzzing sound of the radio interference.

He was mid-chuckle when he spoke again: "I have to admit, even though you're an Agent, you continue to grow on me."

"There are a lot of good Agents at this Agency, you just haven't met many of them yet," I remind him, tossing a strand of my mousey-blonde hair behind my ear. "Percy is an example of one of those good Agents."

"And Everett."

"Yeah," I agreed, rubbing off yet another scuff mark with my shoe. "Everett is pretty great too."

Looking over my shoulder at the wall, I felt the cold of the brick touching the helix of my ear. "Hey, Greyson?"

"Yes?"

My lips rested against the fingers still clutched around the Walkie. "How are you really feeling?"

A minute ticked by.

The corridor was short, but devoid of color, like everything else in this damn building. It was silent, and carried a certain creepiness that left me feeling as if I were being watched. I remember having the exact same feeling, the day I visited Everett for the first time. Must be just my imagination, I gathered.

"I'm fine," Greyson said finally. It was clearly a lie.

"Fine isn't ideal," I said, keeping my eyes peeled on my surroundings, just in case.

"Then, I'm more than fine." His voice had a glimmer of playfulness. "Is that better?"

I found myself unconsciously grinning. Then my grin was met with a deep sense of dread. "No, it's not," I said, not bothering to press the speech button on the walkie. You couldn't be more than fine after what you went through.

"You still there?" He asked after a moment.

My heart skipped a beat. "You shouldn't have been forced to endure any of the things that happened last night. You should be treated humanely and with respect."

"I think that sort of treatment is reserved for the likes of regular people, not someone like me."

"Wrong. That's discrimination. You deserve the same courtesy as any of them!" I insisted. "You shouldn't be treated differently, just because you don't look a hundred percent human."

"Am I to assume, that you putting me in the same category as a 'regular person?'" He asked, as if confused by the sheer notion.

"Of course I do."

A pause.

I looked down at the walkie, then brought the speaker up to my lips again. "Greyson?"

"You needn't worry about me," he said finally. "Rather, you should worry about your own well-being."

I heard a sound coming from down the hall, my gaze shot up but no one was there. "What do you mean by that?" I asked, watching the end of the corridor with intensity.

"Everett told me that you haven't slept much these past few days."

Sparing a glance, I frowned at the camera above me. "You and Everett talk a lot, huh?"

"Not as often as I'd like," Greyson admitted. "But he visits me when he can."

"What else has Everett said about me?"

"Enough to make me feel a little remorseful about that deal we made. I don't blame you for not freeing me on the day we met, you know? I need you to understand that. So, please stop losing sleep over it. Like I said before, you might not be cut out for this mission."

I lifted the walkie to my lips, but couldn't find the words. I wanted to disagree, but part of me was afraid that he might be right.

"You need your rest," he maintained. "And I am not worth the trouble."

I closed my eyes. Part of me knew I should agree with him, give the plan more time, or maybe give up on saving him alltogether, and live my life without breaking any laws.  I couldn't bring myself to give up on him. Something had changed within me, the minute that long-haired woman had laid her filthy hands on him and injected that poison into his arm. I didn't want him to live in that hell for longer than he had to be.

"I'm fine," I said modestly.

A chuckle. "Someone once told me that 'fine isn't ideal.'"

"Hey." I twisted my neck and sneered at the wall. "Don't turn my words against me."

"My apologies," he said gently. "If it bothers you, I'll refrain from ever doing so again."

"It's fine. I was mostly kidding." I frowned at the white brick. "By the way, why do you speak so 'properly' all the time?"

He scoffed. "It keeps Agents from seeing me as nothing more than a monster," he said, a hollowness accompanying his every word. "When I display good manners, it makes Agents act less violent towards me."

The hair on the back of my neck stood on ends. "That's horrifying."

"I suppose it can be," he said, nonchalantly.

The indifference he felt towards his abuse was chilling. It hurt me to see that this constant exposure to harsh treatment, had made him feel numb whenever it came up in conversation. He seemed too accustomed to other people owning him, that he never considered fighting for the ownership of his own body and mind.

He was forced to concede to the weekly torture. And what other choice did he have? Death?

I was his only hope for freedom.

"We need to get you out of here," I said, affirming what I already knew.

For a beat, my words were followed by nothing but static.

"Have you figured out a plan to sneak me out yet?"

"Well, you once mentioned that they have let you out of the enclosure, and that you've seen trees..."

"That's correct," he answered briskly.

"How many times have you gone outside?"

"I go once a week."

Last night, I had thought about this. If Greyson was allowed to be outside, this meant that someone had to escort him. Depending on how many Agents were sent to flank him on those days, I could take them on, one at a time, and help Greyson break out of the Agency.

"They are taking me on a walk next Friday, so if you want to help me escape that day, better strategize an exit and quick."

Friday? That meant I only had three days left to conjure up a plan.

"Would you be ready to leave, if I come for you on Friday?" I asked.

Static hissed before he spoke again: "I'd leave today, if it were possible. But Friday would be just fine."

This was it, my first steps towards crossing that starting line. This was the time, similar to the moment when the gun goes off during a race, where my whole life was about to be thrown off kilter.

"Well, then, I suppose we'll see each other very soon, Greyson," I assured him.

"I can't wait."

The corner of my mouth lifted. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Trust me, after hearing your voice," he said gently, "I couldn't be better."

Blushing, my thumb hovered over the "speak" button. How was I supposed to respond to something like that?

"Careful," He warned quickly. "Someone is coming your way."

Next, his walkie turned off without warning.

"What was that?"

Twisting on my heels, I nearly vomited on the spot the moment my brother, Clyde, appear out of thin air. He had just turned a corner, breaching an archway that led to another maze of corridors, and had joined me in the deserted hallway that faced the gymnasium.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

His steps faltered at the sight of me. "Ashlyn?" My stomach threatened to hurl out of my body. "What are you doing here?"