I was anxious before I even opened my eyes. Immediately, I was in Mitch’s world, terrified and not wanting to move. I knew that I needed to get up and grab the gun that Mitch had left for me somewhere but part of me didn’t even want to do that. I was scared that, if I were to open my eyes, I’d see that Sterling’s people were already there and waiting for me.

What would happen then? Would they torture me to try and find out what we were planning to do? I assumed that they would but I wasn’t sure.

I didn’t want to find out but I couldn’t just keep my eyes shut and wait in that limbo forever. That was so much worse.

Trying to stay as still as possible, in case someone was watching me, I slowly opened my eyes just a crack. Relief washed through me as I stared around my seemingly untouched hotel room.

It looked exactly as it had before I've gone to sleep the night before, which reassured me. But it didn't completely stop the anxiety that I felt. I knew that, at any moment, they could burst through the door or the window and I would be frozen in bed, unable to move and unable to defend myself.

I needed to get the gun.

I didn't know how to use it but at least if I were holding it, I would have something. Something to defend myself with if needed. I hope that wasn't though. The idea of shooting a gun and potentially taking someone's life, even in a fantasy, was terrifying. To hold that much power in my hands felt a little overwhelming, even in theory.

And yet, not having it was worse.

I glanced around the room again before taking a deep breath and pushing my covers back. I scuttled towards the stairs as quickly as possible, seizing the surprisingly heavy pistol which Mitch had left lying on the top step, before rushing back to my bed. I sunk down, my back against the headboard, the gun clutched in my hands and waited. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was waiting for, I just wanted to be prepared. Just in case.

My eyes flitted from the window to the top of the stairs and back again, sweeping the room and searching for any sign of anything suspicious. I tried to keep my breathing even but it was a challenge.

My hands tightened on the gun, clutching it to my chest before I realised how stupid that was.

The gun could kill me. If it were to go off and it hit me, I’d be injured, maybe even killed. But I couldn’t just have it on the bed in front of me. What if they came through the window or surged up the stairs and I wasn’t quick enough?

I lowered it hesitantly, torn between putting it down or continuing to hold it, when dizziness tore through me.

“Grace?” my mom called before knocking on the door gently.

“Yeah?” I called back, my voice a little scratchy from sleep.

The door opened and she ducked her head around it.

“Good morning, how did you sleep?”

It felt weird to have her ask me that. She never did back home. The only thing she said to me there in the morning was barked at me, generally asking me if I’d done all my homework or telling me that my shirt was wrinkled or my skirt too short. It was always followed by a lecture too, never just a simple question.

“Well, thank you,” I lied. “How did you sleep?”

“Ah, about as well as I ever do here,” she joked with a slight glance towards to door to make sure her parents couldn’t over here. “Mom and Dad are going out for breakfast so I thought we could go too?”

We hadn’t been invited, I noticed. Just my grandparents were going and my mom wanted us to go too. They probably didn’t want us there.

I wouldn’t be surprised if they were sick of us already.

“That sounds good,” I said, sitting up and smiling at her.

She returned the smile and started to leave the room before looking back at me and saying, “We’ll be going out in about twenty minutes. Make sure you wear a nice day dress and comb your hair. It's all over the place.”

I waited for her to leave the room before sighing and sagging back down. I let my eyes flutter shut for just a second, checking in on Crete to make sure that Sterling’s people hadn’t arrived.

They hadn’t. The hotel room was still completely motionless. My eyes flitted around the room, not quite focusing on anything, before landing on the gun in front of me.

I had placed it on the bed, clearly having decided that it would be better if I wasn't holding it. That made sense. I really didn't want to accidentally hurt myself or someone else.

I was glad that I had because my phone buzzed and I jumped so hard that if I had been holding the gun, I was pretty sure I would have either shot it or hit myself with it and both would have been bad.

I glanced around the room again before grabbing my phone and reading the message from Mitch.

All sorted with the boat, will be back at the room in ten.

Relief washed through me and I quickly typed back, Okay.

Ten minutes. I just needed to stay safe for ten minutes. That was manageable, surely.

I let my eyes shut again, blinking back into reality. I needed to get up and get ready for breakfast. As much as I truly cared about what was happening in Crete, I couldn’t be late. If I were the one who was holding my grandparents up, I’d never hear the end of it.

With a groan, I climbed out of bed and looked around the room. My suitcases were stashed in the corner. I’d unpacked some of the clothes, just the stuff that would get wrinkled, but most was still in there.

I stretched slightly, trying to get rid of the crick in my back before walking over to it and rooting around for the right outfit. I wasn’t sure what to wear, even with my mom’s suggestion, and it wasn’t long before anxiety forced me to slip back into my daydream and scan the room again.

I needed to pee. I really needed to pee but the idea of Sterling’s people bursting into the room whilst I was on the toilet made my face flush. I grabbed my phone again and checked when Mitch had sent the text.

Only two minutes had passed. Barely any time.

But I could hold it for eight more minutes. I mean, it was a fantasy, I could just go to the toilet in real life and I’d be fine. Something stopped me from doing that though. I could feel my body mechanically choosing some clothes and starting to get dressed but I chose to stay in Crete, shooting anxious looks around the room.

My phone buzzed again and I jolted, despite still holding it.

Going to swing by reception and ask them to organise some kind of picnic for today. Any request? Mitch had typed.

I took a deep and uneasy breath before typing back, Nah, I’m okay with anything.

There was a pause before I saw the three dots appear on the screen again, indicating that Mitch was typing.

I’ve asked them to make sure it’s all veggie, don’t want to risk them packing some meat in with your food and you not wanting to eat it.

I hesitated, guilt shooting through me.

He didn’t need to do that. I hated that he was limiting what he was going to eat just because of me.

Although, he was right. Ideally, I didn’t want my food touching any meat.

That’s okay, you don’t need to do that, I typed back before looking around the room again.

His response was quick again.

Kid, me not eating meat for a couple meals will hardly kill me. Back in eight-ish probably.

My stomach churned guiltily and I debated texting him back to try and insist that he changed the order but I stopped myself. He sounded sure and something made me think, if I continued to insist, he would just become more and more certain. I wouldn't be able to do anything, it would just make me feel even worse. I glanced around the room before jolting back into reality.

“Grace,” my mother called, tapping on the door again. “Are you decent?”

She never asked at home. I kind of liked it though. It meant I didn’t have to scramble to grab some clothes or a bathrobe to cover myself.

I looked down quickly to check. I’d somehow chosen quite a nice dress. It was floral, summery enough that my grandparents wouldn’t judge too much. Short but not too short. It was a good choice and I was a little surprised that I’d managed to do so whilst entirely in the other world.

“Yes,” I said, crossing the room and pulling the door open.

“Ah, you look lovely! I assume you’re going to wear tights?” my mom said, her tone making it clear that this was a demand, not a suggestion.

“Yes, of course,” I said, walking to my suitcase and grabbing out a pair of skin-coloured ones.

“Good choice,” she said condescendingly.

“Thanks. Did you want something?” I asked, trying not to sound rude but desperately wanting to check on what was happening in Crete.

It hadn’t been long, surely nothing could have gone wrong?

But even so, the urge to check was pulling at me. It was like an itch that I needed to scratch but I knew that, if I were to do so, it would just get worse.

“No, no, just wanted to make sure you were getting up!” she said lightly.

She was making sure I was dressed appropriately too, I knew it.

“Ah, okay,” I replied.

There was an awkward pause and I wasn't quite sure what to say. I had nothing else to add and I needed to keep getting ready, to put my tights on and brush my hair, but I didn't really want to do that with her in the room. She was watching me strangely as well, almost as if she was aware of how awkward the situation was and wanted to do something about it but couldn’t.

“Alright, I’ll finish getting ready myself and meet you down there!” she said in an overly cheerful before leaving the room and closing the door gently behind her.

I felt my body relax, even though I hadn’t even noticed it tense, and looked down at the pair of tights dangling from my hand before reaching out for that dizziness.

It came easily and I was immediately back in Crete. Once again, nothing had changed but my anxiety was still rising. It had been eight minutes since Mitch had texted me last and he still wasn't back.

Fear jumped within me as images assaulted my mind. Countless anonymous people, all dressed in black just like they have been back in the bar, grabbing Mitch, guns held tightly in their hands and even more attached to their uniforms. I could almost see them dragging him off somewhere.

They probably had a car waiting. Or a van maybe. It would be easier to transport him in a van, more space and blacked-out windows would make sense.

But surely, he would see them coming. He would be able to escape, wouldn't he? What if he couldn't?If he didn't see them coming and they managed to take him, would I just be trapped here forever? Or would someone come for me?

Lauren would come, wouldn't she? Mitch had said that she was nearby, waiting to be contacted by him again. I liked to think that, if something were to happen and Mitch were to be captured, she would help me. But she might be so distracted by what was going on with him that she might not. I might just be left in Crete, alone and waiting for someone to come and save me.

Maybe in this world, I could save myself.

My phone buzzed again but this time, I was slightly more prepared. I barely even jumped as I looked down at the phone, reading the message quickly.

Almost back now, I’ll put all the traps and whatnot away then let you know.

Okay, I sent back.

I waited, my skin crawling with nervousness, for the door to open. In real life, I felt myself dragging a brush through my hair, pulling it back into a ponytail before sinking down in front of the mirror and grabbing my make-up bag. Mom hadn't said that I needed to put any on but my grandparents always expected us to wear make-up and look presentable whenever we went out. Even if we were just going to the nearest shop or somewhere casual, they still expect it from us.

I‘d made that mistake before, when I was just a kid. I must have been about thirteen when I went out for lunch with my mom. They had seen us when we came back to the house and immediately, they made a comment about my obvious lack of make-up. My grandfather had asked if I was ill whereas my grandmother had simply said that a certain type of person goes out without wearing make-up and I should be careful not to become that type of person.

I still wasn't quite sure what she meant by that and I’d never worn make-up before back then. My mom had taken me out that day to get some concealer, powder and mascara and I’d been expected to wear it ever since.

I blinked back into reality, ignoring the dizziness, and stared down at my make-up bag. I trusted myself to do a lot of things whilst not really paying attention and daydreaming but I didn't quite trust myself to put my make-up on. I was pretty concerned that I would stab myself in the eye or something worse and I really didn't want to.

If it was bad and I had to go to hospital or something, I would never hear the end of it. That has happened before as well. I had slipped whilst climbing some rocks down by the beach and had caught my arm on something sharp on the way down. It hadn't stopped bleeding for ages and my mum had whisked me away to the nearest hospital.

I had needed stitches and everything, I still have the scar, but at dinner, my grandparents had both made comments about when they were kids they would never go to hospital for something as minor as a small cut. It hadn't been a ‘small cut’, it had gone almost all the way from my wrist to my elbow but that didn't matter to them. They were still embarrassed by me.

I put on as little make-up as possible, rushing through it, before standing and glancing at my reflection. I looked alright but I knew there would be something they weren't happy with. It didn't matter, I would never please them completely. There would always be something they hated about me.

I hesitated before jumping back to my daydream, getting there just in time for the door to beep softly and open. My hands found the gun immediately and I clutched it, despite knowing that it was probably Mitch.

I didn’t want to risk it, just in case.

I waited, my breath coming in short bursts, as I strained my ears to pick up any sign of who it was.

It could have been a trap. It easily could have been someone else down there. Sterling’s people could have stolen Mitch’s phone and have been texting me from it, just to lure me into a false sense of security.

Carefully and as silently as possible I climbed out of the bed, edging towards the back wall so that I was facing the stairs. If it were them, I wanted to be prepared. I didn't want to be caught in bed and unable to fight.

“Gosh darn it!” I heard Mitch exclaim and I slumped against the wall as relief rushed through me. “It is such a mess down here!”

He was talking loudly, and I knew it was for me. He knew that I would be up here, terrified and waiting to know whether I was about to be attacked. He was doing it so that I wouldn't be scared.

I staggered towards the bed and dropped the gun on it carefully before wiping my sweating palms. I started around the bed, towards the stairs, listening carefully as Mitch bumbled around the room below.

After maybe a minute, I heard a heavy footstep on the stairs before he called up to me.

“Grace, it’s just me. I’ve packed everything up down here so you can come down if you want.”

I grinned before replying.

“Awesome, I’m just going to run to the bathroom before I do!”

I was still desperate and now that he was back, I couldn’t stop myself from edging towards the bathroom.

“Okay, I’ll order breakfast.”

I slipped out of the daydream, as I rushed towards the bathroom, looking at myself one last time in the mirror before grabbing my phone and starting towards the door.

The corridor was silent and I wasn't sure whether to go downstairs to find my mom or if she would still be in her room. I glanced towards her room before deciding there was no harm in checking.

I crossed the corridor and tapped on the door quietly.

“Come in,” came her voice.

I pushed the heavy wooden door open and stepped into her room.

It looked the same as it always did. It had been her room when she was a child and it hadn’t been changed since then, as far as I was aware. Her sun-bleached collection of dolls and stuffed toys still resided in one corner of the room. The light pink wallpaper was faded and dated but it made me smile a little.

“Ready to go?” my mom asked from where she sat at her vanity.

“Yes,” I said.

She turned back towards the mirror, examining her lipstick for a moment before standing. She teetered slightly in her appropriately high heels, surveying her appearance before nodding.

“Alright, let’s go let them know,” she said.

She walked out of the room in front of me and I trailed behind her along the corridor and down the stairs. I was worried as she gripped the bannister tightly, the old wood creaking under her weight, but we made it down without incident.

“Mom,” she called out, starting towards the kitchen. “Are you ready to go?”

I glanced towards the front door, hesitating for a moment. I wasn't sure whether to just wait by the door or to follow her again but ultimately, I decided to go with her to the kitchen.

By the time I got there, she was standing in the middle of the kitchen looking around. Everything had been put away neatly. There was no sign that my grandparents had even been there apart from the teacups waiting by the sink.

“Could they still be upstairs?” I asked, not quite sure what else to say.

My mother blinked and looked back at me.

“They could be… I’ll go check,” she said before taking off down the hall again.

I followed slowly, not sure where else they would be. They might be in the lounge, watching television but I poked my head in as we passed and it was empty.

I waited at the bottom of the stairs, listening carefully as my mum knocked on my grandparent’s door but there was no answer. I heard the door open, the hinges creaking loudly, before my mom marched back down the stairs.

She crossed to the windows at the front of the house without saying anything, her expression pinched. I watched as she stood there for a moment before joining her

“They’ve already gone,” she said, her tone tight.

Confusion rushed through me and I glanced down at my phone, checking the time.

I was pretty sure that it hadn't been more than twenty minutes since my mom had come up to invite me to breakfast but I wasn’t certain. It hadn’t felt like it had been that long though.

“I guess we’ll just meet them there then,” my mom said, the forced cheery tone returning. “They probably just wanted to make sure we got a good table.”

“Yeah,” I said noncommittally.

She smiled at me widely before reaching for the front door but I saw how much my grandparent’s indifference towards her hurt. In a way, she was living in as much of a fantasy as I was but in hers, her parents loved her and cared for her.

Maybe we weren’t that different but at least I had my dad.