The first light of day appears through the trees passing by outside the window. Asleep in the seat beside me is Priscilla, and even though the train progresses forward smoothly, she rests uneasy, like she’ll wake up any moment now.

Having parked the bike at the docks the night before, I can only imagine that walking all the way to the train station afterwards must’ve taken quite the toll on her body. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that she’d pushed herself to her absolute limits.

I take the momentary peace to think back to the past few days, reassuring myself we’ve made the right choice.

Given the circumstances, as soon as the letter from the hotel raid reaches headquarters, Priscilla and I will undoubtedly fall under heavy suspicion. Ciel on the other hand is certainly planning something, having raided an arms deposit. If we’re detained, then it’ll likely be too late to change things afterwards.

We’ve made the right choice. The only choice. So why then, do I still have an anxious feeling about things?

“What’s on your mind?” Asks a voice beside me.

Looking over, Priscilla is now awake, even if only barely.

“Nothing in particular.”

“There’s no need to lie. Are you nervous?” She asks.

“Can’t say I am. Being on the run is nothing new.”

Priscilla tries her best to sit up in her seat but lacks the strength to do so. I give her a hand, and only then do I notice how heavily she’s breathing.

“You’ve overdone yourself.”

“I’m fine. This much is nothing.”

It doesn’t seem to be the truth, but she seems to believe she’s not lying. Her next question suggests she’s thinking the same of me.

“How long do you think we’ll have?” She asks.

She saves her breath by reducing her words, sadly at the cost of her question not making much sense.

“Until they catch up with us?” I add, to clarify.

Priscilla nods.

“As long as it takes.” I tell her.

“You seem confident.”

“Should I not be?”

“How long do you think it took them to find you last time?”

She asks a question I’ve tried not to think too much about. I can’t come up with any kind of answer that doesn’t seem like a lie.

“I’d think I have a fairly good understanding of how you see things, if you’d care to listen.”

I prompt her to begin.

“I’ll start from the beginning then.” Priscilla says.

“Where I grew up, there was this group of people that we were taught was pure evil. And I believed it. I’d seen the bodies, sometimes two to a stretcher. I’d seen my father dragging back limbless torsos into the camp, still hanging onto their last shreds of life.”

There isn’t a morsel of compassion in her tone.

“I told you once that my mother taught me how to handle a gun. What I didn’t mention then was that I was the one who asked her to teach me, even though she didn’t want to see something like that in the hands of a nine-year-old child. She only caved when I stole one off one of the corpses that father brought back. And when she and father were carried back into the camp the next day, I told myself that the day I saw one of them, I’d shoot to kill, or kill myself before letting them take me alive.”

From the same place her fury came, I myself had only found fear. She bottles back what emotion still lingers before continuing.

“I’m sure you can imagine then how surprised I was when I woke up to find myself under their care. After my body had deteriorated to the point that I could no longer even move, the very people that I’d taught myself all my life to despise were now taking care of me better than anyone ever had before.”

At a loss for words, I fail to notice that I must’ve been staring.

“Sorry if I scared you, that wasn’t my intention.” Priscilla says.

“No, it’s alright. I just had no idea, what you’d been through.”

Priscilla looks away coldly after what I said, or perhaps she’s just embarrassed having opened up about herself. Nonetheless, it doesn’t look like she wants to dwell on the subject for much longer.

“We’ll have an entire division of special operatives on our tail pretty soon. I’d say we can last at most two weeks with the preparation I’ve done. In case my plan doesn’t work before then, I apologize in advance. You should be cleared of any involvement after they do a thorough investigation.”

Though this is the first time she’s mentioned it explicitly, I’d just assumed that Priscilla always was proceeded with some kind of plan in mind. At least it felt that was the case. It’s reassuring to have my intuitions confirmed. But then a sudden thought crosses my mind.

Priscilla has never lied to me before. I wonder why then, I considered that she might be now.

The thought doesn’t last longer than a brief moment. Probably just a product of my nervousness. Priscilla has always pulled through in the past. I’ve trusted her this far. Just one final time, and she’ll put an end to all of this.

----------------------------------

It’s a small room, with one large window opposite the entrance. There’s a kitchen area, a washroom, and a closet. Though it’s nothing incredible by any standards, it’s definitely impressive that she was able to set this up in such a short amount of time.

The sunlight of midday fills the dreary room, revealing the dust that’s been hiding in plain sight. I move to close the blinds.

“Let’s leave that open for now.” Priscilla says, as I reach the window.

She suddenly collapses to the floor, her crutches falling beside her as well. I rush to check her condition. She’s sweating profusely and is short of breath.

“Don’t worry about me,” She says.

“Why don’t you just rest for now?”

After she nods weakly, I gently lay her on the ground, then head to the closet, finding a stack of sheets and pillows inside. When I return to Priscilla, she’s already passed out. I cover her well, before standing up and getting another good look at the room.

Across the street outside the window, there’s another building, taller than the room we’re in. The sun shines in from above it. People wander by the dozens below. The best place to hide a drop of water is the ocean. Likewise, the best place to hide a person would be amongst other people. It seems so obvious I don’t know why I hadn’t realized it myself before.

I head to the kitchen, or perhaps more accurately, the corner of the room with a single small freezer and an electric stove. Inside the fridge, I find it stacked to the brim with cans of preserved foods, probably around a weeks’ worth for the both of us at the most. It’s not the most appetizing thing I’ve ever seen, but given the circumstances, I couldn’t ask for more. Priscilla made it very clear that I was never to leave her sight, so as much as I’d like to surprise her by going out and picking up a nice dinner, that doesn’t seem like it’ll be possible.

There’s no table, no chairs. Nothing but the slowly rotating ceiling fan, and the oblivious world outside to listen to. I suppose this is all she’ll have to spend her last days.

----------------------------------

A rustling wakes me from my light sleep. I sit up and look around. It’s already dark outside.

“Hey.” Priscilla greets me, having just woken up herself.

“Did you sleep well?” I ask.

“Well enough.”

I point to the two cans placed on top of the upside-down cardboard container that they came in.

“I prepared those earlier, but it’s just slightly warmed canned food, so I wouldn’t set my expectations too high.”

Priscilla tosses her covers aside and drags herself to the makeshift table. I take the can opener from the kitchen and join her.

“I remembered you like carrots, so I picked you one of those.”

Priscilla sits quietly, as I cut open the cans.

“Now that I think of it, does the name ‘C’ stand for carrots? I mean, it’d make sense, since that was what Emile called you, and he was the one who cooked for you as well.”

Showing no signs of interest, the girl across from me sits still, blowing softly on her food. She’s unusually aloof. I come to the sudden realization that this is the first time I’ve ever considered how vulnerable she must seem.

Not trying to push the unwanted small talk any further, I decide to silently eat my own food. The whir of the fan, and the occasional scape against the can are the only sounds in the room. That lasts until the ambience starts to get to me.

“Is he really going to show up?” I ask.

Receiving nothing but silence for an answer, I look across the cardboard box, finding Priscilla poking at a still full can. I watch in a cloud of confusion for a moment. Then she closes the lid and places her spoon atop the can.

“Sorry, I don’t think I’m hungry right now.”

With a short crawl to where she left her sheets, she lays back on the floor and hides under the covers, facing away from me.

“Are you alright? Are you feeling okay?” I ask, in a bit of a panic.

“I’m fine. Eat that before it gets cold. Don’t let it go to waste.”

Her words trigger something inside of me. I stand up and march over in front of her.

“What’s up with you? If something’s wrong, you can tell me. You trust me, right?”

“I do.” She says.

“If you do, then tell me what’s wrong. I’ll be able to help.”

Priscilla rolls over to face the ceiling. I wait for her to say something, unsure of what to do if she doesn’t. Eventually, though, she does.

“Can you tell me I’m doing the right thing?”

“What?”

The immediate exclamation I let escape is somewhere between relieved and confused.

“Can you tell me I’m doing the right thing?”

Priscilla asks the same question again.

“It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not, I just need to hear someone else say it.”

I stumble over my next words.

“I, don’t know.”

A weak smile appears on Priscilla’s face for no longer than an instant. She rolls over once again, leaving me staring at her back once more.

“Thanks, for not lying to me.”

As the last words of the night drift into the air, I wonder whether she had been doing the same to me.