stomach threatening to jump out of her throat and into her lap.

"Are we really doing this, Charlie?" Luda asks, wiping tears from her face.

"What, you want to sit around and wait for the cops to find us? We gotta leave by tonight. " Hoyt says through a mouthful of food.

"I'm gonna miss this place. . ." She sighs, tracing a boney finger across the wood of the dining table.

"Have you even talked to Roy and them yet, Charlie?" Monty asks.

"Of course I have! They have enough room for us up there north."

Y/n catches Thomas staring at her. While he keeps looking, her eyes drop back down to her plate.

Once everyone's done eating, they all head to their rooms to finish packing, a grim mood falling upon them. Y/n does the dishes one last time.

Thomas sneaks up, hugging her from behind. She gives him a weak smile, before turning back to the plate in her hand. He grunts, grabbing the plate from her.

"What, Thomas?"

He sets the plate down, grabbing her arms and leading her upstairs to their room.

"It's not like I have anything to pack, Tommy. There's no rush."

He dismisses her with a grunt, pulling her into the room. Two black suitcases sit on the bed. One, she notices, is already packed with clothes.

Thomas reaches over to the bed side table, grabbing Anne of green gables and sets it inside the suitcase.

Y/n steps up to it, noticing the pretty white frills.

"Where did these come from?"

Thomas gestures to Luda's door. She nods, taking them out to examine them. Pretty sun dresses, some flowy tank tops, summer clothes. It's a little cold for them now, but she makes a mental note to thank Luda.

If she even has time.

At the very bottom of the suitcase is a pair of brown leather gloves.

"What about these, Thomas?" She asks, raising the gloves for him to see.

He points to himself. She smiles softly, pulling them on. Remarkably, they're a perfect fit on her misshapen hands.

"Did you make these yourself?"

Thomas nods.

"They're great." She flexes her hands, enjoying the new feeling. Her other ones had shrunken from the rain and wet morning dew, not to mention stained in Thomas's blood from the night before.

She puts all the clothes back in the suitcase, along with her sowing kit and book.

Thomas grabs her shoulders softly, bringing her in for a hug. She rests her head on his chest, sighing.

Was he giving her all of this stuff to make her feel better about leaving? If so, it only made her feel guilty. Nothing would make her want to leave Poth with them.

Thomas had to understand that.

"Thomas, I love all of this, but I can't leave."

He loosens his grip, pulling away to look her in the face. She reaches up and runs a hand through his messy curls.

"I love you. I really do. But I can't leave Poth. You have to realize that."

His brows furrow, his hands tightening around her arms.

"Tommy, don't be like that. This is our chance! We can run away together, get out of here and over to California! I can show you the beach, the bookstore, and I can read to you every day! I can start playing the cello again, and You can stop killing people!"

His grip loosens again, his face falling. His fingers trace circles on her soft arms, deep in thought.

Finally, he nods. Slowly, and unsure. But it's all y/n needs. She grabs his face and brings it towards her, planting a kiss on his lips. He grabs hers as well, locking her in place and deepening it.

Her hands find their way to his hair again, pulling him closer. She feels tears start to leak from her eyes.

Are they from happiness? Relief? Who knows. She just clings onto Thomas, finally seeing the gates of freedom opening before her.

They are rudely interrupted by Hoyt, who barges in without knocking.

"Whoa whoa, love birds, we're on a time limit. Get your shit down to the car. And take that dead body from the basement and bury it out back."

Y/n licks her lips, nodding. She and Thomas grab their bags, setting them on the front porch. She grabs a shovel, and Thomas grabs Laura's boyfriend's corpse.

She promises herself that once her and Thomas book it, they'll find Laura, and bring his body back to his family. Some how.

They settle on a place of dirt behind the shed. Thomas drops the body, grabbing the shovel. It doesn't take him long, with his animalistic strength, to make a 6 feet deep hole.

As he grabs the body, she notices the short length of the man's nails. The marks on Thomas's arm were certainly too deep to be done by him. It must've been the woman who escaped.

She shivers at the thought.

Soon. Soon, the two will live a normal life and put it behind them.

Together, they throw the dirt back over the body. His corpse slowly disappears, eyes faced up towards the sky as if begging for a second chance.

She wants to cry, or to gag, or feel anything negative. But the worst has happened already. She feels nothing. A desensitized state. She's seen so much in the past three months that burying a corpse has no effect on her.

As they tredge back to the house, she actually feels peace.

The wind is still, it's a quiet evening. There's no yelling from Hoyt, or sounds of screams from his victims. It's almost as if those past three months were buried behind them along with the body.

But alas, peace fades away as they set foot on the porch step. Hoyt runs out, suitcases in hand.

"Get your disabled ass out here, Monty. We ain't got time for your complaining!"

"And where the fuck will i be?" Monty yells, wheeling up to the front door.

"In the truck with me!" Hoyt throws his suitcases in the back of said truck, wheeling Monty up to the passenger side. He turns on the radio, it buzzes to life.

Luda comes out, eyes red and puffy. She stops and pats Thomas on the shoulder, before heading to her car.

Y/n looks up at Thomas expectantly. Her eyes tell him "now's better than ever."

She grabs both of their suitcases, walking down to the grass. Thomas follows, but freezes. His hand grips y/n's arm. He starts at the ground, not meeting her eyes.

"Thomas. . ."

" . . .Thomas you said we would. . ."

" . . .Thomas let's run. Now."

She tugs against him, her voice quivering. Is he being serious?

"What's going on over here?" Hoyt says, grabbing Thomas's shoulder. "You guys aren't planning on running, are ya?"

Y/n looks up at Thomas with pleading eyes. Hoyt catches on.

"Oh, you bitch. You're trying to separate our family! You aren't actually running, right Tommy?"

He doesn't respond, just keeps his head down at the floor.

Tears well up in her eyes. She feels betrayed. She pushes against Thomas's arm, falling to the ground when he let's go suddenly.

Her gloved fingers brush against something. She looks down, her heart freezing in her chest. It's a fake nail.

She picks it up, fearing her suspicions may be right.

She's right.

The nail is Laura's. The fake nails she was wearing the night of the festival oh so long ago.

She was here last night.

"Thomas. . . You LIED to me?" She chokes out, looking up at him through teary eyes.

His hands tighten into fists.

"That? That bitch was wearing those last night. They scratched Thomas up real good." Hoyt says, lifting up Thomas's scarred arm. Sure enough, the fake nails were long enough to cut that deep.

Terror sets in. Her heart races again, pumping blood out her ears.

Thomas lied to her, he hurt Laura. Then lied to her about it. And now he won't run away with her.

"Tommy," Hoyt turns to his nephew, "It's family first, always. If she runs, she ain't family anymore. And you know what you got to do."

His fists tighten further, drawing blood. Fear clouds y/n's thoughts. Like a deer being hunted, she does the only thing her instincts are telling her to do.

Run.