"So, Jackson, do you remember which way you came out?" I ask, attempting to be casual, but knowing that this question, no matter the tone is suspicious.
"Yah, that way," he points a long arm towards the staircase leading to the upper floors, "Why?" his brilliant green eyes look into mine, fiercely demanding an answer.
"I just wanted to know," I reply vaguely but in his face I can see that he senses a lie. He lets the topic go, though, and returns to setting up his temporary home.
I head over to the staircase, remembering going to Peter's office. Retracing the path, I eventually find the long and winding hall that we took from the cells.
I stay low, carefully taking corners to assure that no one waits on the other side. Each turn I take makes me question my direction and my sense of mind. Eventually after going back and forth with trial and error many times, I find the padlocked door. Through tiny windows framing the door, I peer in. I realize that I can't possibly know the code, let alone be able to guess it. Instead I sit, cross-legged, and stare through, just imagining them beside me.
The longer I wait there, the more fear rushes through my veins. I need to see them; this longing inside of me is ripping me apart. I can't live like this any longer.
I can feel the space under my eyes swell up and tears rolling down. I try to hold it all in but sobs pour out. My whole abdomen is stressed from the tension. I put my hand up against the window, imagining that Aiden or my Father, anyone, was on the other side to put theirs up against mine.
"Excuse me Miss, this area is off limits," I look up at the figure, another guard dressed in the same black clad armor.
"I'm not in there, I'm out here, watching. You can go in there and take my friends from their cells, treat them like hostages and throw them into that stupid white room," I spit at him.
"If I could please ask you to go, now," that last word turns his tone dark.
"But my friends, my dad, is still in there for doing nothing," I push on, "please just let me see them. If you won't let me, I'll stay right here until you will," I threaten and we go back and forth like fighting siblings.
"Security at prison entrance," he mouths into the walkie-talkie. He turns to the door, entering the combination. I catch two of the four digits: 7, 3, and then I'm lost.
As the door shuts, two more guards come burning around the corner but relax as they see the only threat. "Jay, was this the only one?" The guard seeks more information as they approach me.
"Please, you need to leave," they try to coax me into leaving but I am stubborn, like my Mother.
"You can try to talk me out of this, physically try to pick me up and remove me from this, but I will not willingly go," I clarify my position and add edge to the end of each word.
The first figure orders the other to back away, leaving me with just the top of command. He pulls down his visor to reveal a familiar face, Peter. "Emma, you need to leave, now," he tries again, hoping that because I know it's him that I will listen. "Your friends will come out shortly."
I shake my head, still unwilling to go. "Can't I just wait here? My family are still in there." I refuse and I clutch the corner of the wall, to brace myself for when he'll need to peel my body away.
I feel the hard grip against my abdomen. My hands are trying, desperately pulling against the wall. I can hear my heartbeat getting stronger and stronger with the passion for my friends.
"Emma, just let go," his voice is pleading, not wanting to do this to me.
"No!" I shriek, I know that I should stop, but I have lost all of my self-control.
"You have to," he shouts at me, still pulling at my body, trying to pry me off of the wall. It's like dealing with a toddler who is having a tantrum. There is no logic to my action; only emotion.
"I can't, I love them," my voice wails, echoing down the hall. My muscles feel worn out, aching from trying to reach them.
"Just let go," I sense fatigue in his tone, giving me an extra push to hold on. I know it's only a matter of time before his strength overpowers mine.
"Tell me the passcode, let me in; let me see them!" The world fades in and out as tears flow obstructing my vision.
"You'll see them soon enough," Peter is becoming mad, his voice raising up a level, near the point where he'll lose all control.
"I love them and you're hurting them. You need to stop," I try to sound fierce but my voice is fading, parched from the ongoing shrieking.
My fingertips are red, raw from gripping to the angled corner. The muscles in my arms are screaming for me to stop but my heart and mind want me to keep going. After more time passes with the same struggle, they slip. Sliding smoothly off of the surface, my hands fall, causing my body to slam against the ground. Still, I order my hands to search for another grip.
"Emma, if you stop right now, I'll let this all go; you can just walk away, no consequences." I shake my head, determined. I can't give up now, not after all I've been through.
"Eleanor, please get the new group, Jamie, Sadie and Jackson, to come down to the jail entrance, now," I hear a muffled but frantic voice sound through the radio.
"Let me see them," I moan in desperation. And then I give up, curling into a tiny ball, escaping from the outside world.
The three come around the corner, fear in their faces. They stop, taking a look at me. Jackson comes over and gently picks up my body. As we walk away, I turn my face one last time. I see Peter standing there. I can see he is sorry for the events. Through the tiny glass windows along the side of the door, I catch a glimpse of one last thing: there is a door being opened, a guard walks out, a figure in his grip. The person turns their head, somehow locking eyes with me. Their face is hollow and bruised, but still recognizable. Aiden.