Locked In

October 4, 3030 Time Unknown         Though I can’t sleep, holding Scarlett in my arms brings me a certain kind of peace. Her hair smells like dirt and sweat, yet it doesn’t bother me. Time passes by and I lie still as she flips around, snuggling into my chest. A smile tugs on my lips, and I rub her back softly and soothingly. She exhales heavily through her nose, crinkling it in discomfort. I shoulder, noticing she had put some weight on it when she turned toward me.          I wish I could sleep as peacefully as Scarlett is right now. But every time I close my eyes, I’m terrified that nightmares will plague my sleep. Terrible, horrible, gruesome nightmares. I've seen so many people fall before my eyes, and now Scarlett is injured. The thought that we won’t make it out of this city alive gnaws at me.          Even if we somehow escape, what will we do when we're free? More importantly, what's on the other side of this city and why is it forbidden to leave?         Scarlett lightly groans, and I immediately lift my head to glance at her. Her eyes are squeezed tightly and she begins to shake. Not knowing what to do, I rake my hand through her hair, hushing her quiet noises. She doesn't wake, but she calms down. She must've had a nightmare.         I carefully pull away from her, making sure I don't wake her. I carefully unwrap the gauze around Scarlett's shoulder, making sure it wasn’t infected. Luckily, it isn't. Relief washes over me. I had never treated a gun wound, but I knew basic first aid, thanks to my mom. I rewrap the gauze around her again, before slowly climbing out of my bed. Scarlett continues to sleep, probably still exhausted from when I treated her.         I tiptoe downstairs, finding Chloe sitting on the couch and staring out the window intently.          "See anyone?" I whisper.         Chloe shakes her head. "No, and it’s a good thing, too. I would rather not get shot the way Scarlett did."         "I don't even think Scarlett wanted to get shot the way she did."         Chloe chuckles. "Is she still asleep?"         I nod my head and sit on the floor. "Yeah. She lost a lot of blood, so it may take some time for her to gain her strength back."         She turns to me. "I can’t wrap my hand around how she was able to run and jump across roofs with a bullet wound."         "She's strong." I turn to the stairs. "Scarlett was always strong."         Chloe hums in response and turns back to the window. "The sun is starting to go down. You might want to go wake her up."         I stand up and head for the stairs, then stop and turn to her. "I'm gonna take Scarlett next door real quick."         "Why?"         "It's where she lives. Maybe her parents are still there."         Chloe turns to me with furrowed brows. "I thought her parents are awful."         "They are, but she still loves them. If I'm not back here by ten minutes, leave without us. Either we were caught, or dead."         She sucks in a breath at that possibility, then hesitantly agrees. I quietly hurry up the stairs. ******         Scarlett bites her lip as I help her walk into her house from the back door. The place is dark, and not just literally. I mean, the place has an evil aura around it. It's also completely wrecked. There's a strong scent of alcohol, most likely the fault of Scarlett's father. The house is a mess; a sink full of dishes, the furniture upturned, cigarette smoke stains on the walls and ceiling, even shattered glass next to the dining table. Something that eerily looks like bloodstains splatter the walls.          "There's no way my parents are here," Scarlett says in a low voice.         "You don't know that," I whisper.         She shakes her head. "Okay, let me rephrase then. I hope they're not here because that means we'd have to help them."         "You don't mean that."         "Do I?" Scarlett pushes away from me and leans against the wall by the basement door. "If they were here, they probably would be in this basement." She shudders a little, obviously from a traumatic memory.          "I'll go down there, you stay up here."         Scarlett nods her head. "If something happens, there's a cellar door. Find it and run."         "What about you?"         She shrugs. "I'll find my own way out."        "You lost so much blood you can barely walk. Hell, you just got shot yesterday." I roll my eyes.         Scarlett pulls out her gun. "There´s still a few bullets left. If I need to, I'll use the last of them."         "That doesn't seem like a good plan."         "It's the only plan we have." She slips the gun back into her waist-band.         I sigh in defeat and open the basement door. I can see the stairs leading down, the path getting darker and darker. God, I feel like I'm in a horror movie.         "I know that feeling," Scarlett says, as if she can read my mind. "I’ve been down there more times than I care to admit. It's not fun."         "You're not making me feel any better," I remark.         "Sorry." She then shakes her head and stretches her back, mindful of her shoulder. "You know what? Don't go down there."         "What? Why?"         "Because I can do this instead." She stands in front of the entrance of the basement, takes a deep breath, and shouts, "Is anyone down there?"         My eyes widen. "Scarlett! You’ll get us caught!"         Scarlett just shakes her head and shushes me. "If anyone's down there, come out. It's not the Capitol, I promise. I'm trying to get out the city myself."         Silence.         Scarlett turns her head to me. "Told you nobody’s here."         I stare at her, shocked that she would just shout like that. "I thought you wanted to find them?"         "Yeah, before I realized they're probably working for the Capitol. I realized I'm much better without them." She heads toward the door.         My heart swells with pride at her new-found independence. "So what now?"         "We're getting out of here." Scarlett holds her hand out to me, and I instinctively take it. Holding her hand feels normal in mine, like it was fate they fit so perfectly together. Our fingers intertwine and we head out of the house. A voice stops us in our tracks.         "Wait!"          Footsteps come hustling up the basement stairs. Scarlett and I peek down into the basement, seeing a shadowy figure halfway up. It’s too dark to make out who it is. The figure finally makes it to the top, illuminated by the moonlight. Then there's a sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs.         Scarlett straightens, her posture stiff. Her voice comes out cold.         "Dad."