I angrily toss clothes into my rucksack, cursing Damien all the while. "Stupid boy, coming into my house when he knew it would get me killed. Causing me to move myself across the country for God knows how long. Causing me to miss school and leave the house I've protected myself in for so many years." I stop grumbling and whip around to face Damien.

         "How long will I have to leave my house for? A week? A month? It can't be longer than that right?" I inquire. The somber look on his face tells me otherwise. "Damien...?" 

          "You cannot come back." The words are choked out in what is almost a whisper, so soft I can almost tell myself that it isn't true. "You cannot return. You need to take whatever means the most to you, the things that you cannot live without, and you need to run." His voice rises in volume. "When the T.A.K Squad gets here, they will burn your house to the ground. They have already burned my house, and countless others." He drops his head, remembering. "They do not care what or who is left inside."

          I sit frozen with shock, my eyes glued to the bedspread. I can't return? Never? I look around my small bedroom, my only sanctuary for the last five years. This room, no, this house, is the sanctuary I built for myself after my parents disappeared. I can't believe I have to leave it behind forever. A tear rolls down my face as I picture my house going up in flames, my books and photographs crumbling into ash, leaving nothing behind but a pile of soot. I wipe the tear away with a finger and straighten my shoulders. I guess I'd better start packing then. I don't want to leave anything important behind.

○○○○○

          I dig my hands into the soft leather of Damien's car seat, trying to get warm. The heater doesn't work in this car, and despite my constant complaints, he won't stop the car to let me get my blanket. I look out the window at the same rolling hills we've been driving through for an hour, the only difference the position of the sun, and the animals I see grazing. This time it's cows. Whoopdedoo. Shifting slightly in my seat, I glance at Damien as his hands tap an unsteady rhythm on the steering.

          "Where are we going?" I question for the umpteenth time. Hey, maybe it will get him to loosen up and tell me.

          He glares ahead at the road, not making the mistake of turning to face me. The first time he did that I pestered him to 'keep his eyes on the road' and wouldn't pay attention to a word he said. "The answer has not, and will not change Kyla. You will still be able to see where we are going when we get there." 

          I roll my eyes. "Fine. But if you won't tell me where we are going, then you can at least tell me who I'm going with."

          Now he looks wary of me. What is it with this guy and secrets? "What do you mean by that?" he asks, pretending to be nonchalant. 

          "I mean that I know nothing about you. Where do you live, do you have a family? I've already told you more about my life than half of my friends know, and I've known them for years. I've known you for about an hour and a half, and all I know about you is your name," I accuse.

          He thinks for a second, then begins.

          "I was born in the United Kingdom. Oxford to be exact. I was given the best schooling my parents could afford. Seeing as they were rather rich, and too busy to be spending time with a misbehaved child, that meant boarding school." He grimaced at the thought of it, then continued. "Boarding school, while unpleasant, saved my life from the T.A.K. Squad. Someone must have given them the impression that I lived with my parents, for when I was 15 years old, my family home was burned to the ground. Both of my parents were inside, and they perished in the fire. The Squad however, was not satisfied with simply burning my house, they had to be sure that nothing remained of it. The very day I was taken to see the remains of my estate, they arrived. They had guns, hounds-" Again the hand to the back of his neck. I wonder where he got that scar. "And they saw me. The focus of their visit became not to make sure nothing was salvageable, but to dispose of me. The hounds," he shivers. "They sent their hounds after me. Big black beasts, barely even animal anymore, barely even living. They sent these monsters after me. The beasts attacked me, ripping clothing, tearing flesh, sinking their sharp teeth into anything they could find. They didn't relent, wouldn't stop attacking me. I had to abandon my ideals of never running from a fight and was forced to flee several miles to get them off of my tail. I've been running ever since." 

           I stare at him, my eyes wide. That's his story? Here I am complaining about having to leave my house, but having his parents burned alive in the house. And then when you try to go visit the place, to give yourself some closure, you get attacked by the hounds from hell? I should cut him some slack.

          I notice him check his rear-view mirror. "I thought we would be able to outrun them for a few more hours," he mutters, speeding up the car and weaving through traffic on the crowded highway like a maniac. I crane around in my seat to see a black van following us. 

         "Hey Damien. Who's that?" I ask nervously, already sure I know the answer.

         He looks at me, still driving at 100 miles per hour, and I have the sudden urge to shout eyes on the road. "It's the T.A.K. Squad, Kyla. Sit tight. We are in for an interesting ride."