Annabelle

I sat curled up in the darkest corner of the delivery truck, sniffling and choking through tears.

My parents left me.

That thought replayed in my mind as annoyingly as a music box humming a lullaby.

Melody kept looking over. I'd catch her eyes on me, then they'd dart onto her fidgeting hands propped on her lap. She asked for my forgiveness before, which I happily gave her, but that time I found it immensely difficult.

When she attacked me, I forgave her because I loved her and thought she was my friend. I thought we were like a family.

But she took my real family away, and for that I couldn't help but glare at her with the fury of a thousand suns.

I shook so viciously that my chin repeatedly bumped my bent knees. Globs of snot hung from my nose, and tears rained down my face.

"I'm really, really sorry, Anna," she told me. Her face was like mine when I lost my nonna's locket -- hanging around the mouth, and despite her voice matching it, I still felt heat rise up my body.

I clenched my zipper and sniffled again and again.

Mary-Sue barely looked at me nor did she let out the slightest peep in our whole ride to the train station.

When we got there, I was groggy with my head banging against the cold wall. It was from the bumps in the road, but mostly my own doing.

Instead of Miranda, Jenny rounded us up and the truck rocked under our weight. She took our hands and watched us hop to our feet, but when she got to me, she caressed my knuckles with her thumb.

"Are you alright," she asked, and I didn't hold back my feelings. My lip shook and my face scrunched up tight like I tried a lemon again. I tried telling her that I wanted to go home and that I missed my family, but I was a blubbering mess. She cooed and pulled me close, hugging me to her chest and rubbing my back. She repeated, "It's okay," but it was anything but.

She promised that things would go back to normal, eventually, and that in that time, I'd be reunited with my family wherever they went. Looking into her gentle eyes, I believed her whole heartedly.

She clasped my inner elbow and watched my footing as I dropped to my boots on the road.

The fog was denser -- so much so that anyone who stepped through would be swallowed immediately. That scared me. It was like swimming in murky waters.

Nevertheless, we strolled hand-in-hand toward the platform shelter where Mary-Sue and Melody found refuge. Austin carted duffle bags toward the platform and dropped them at their feet, then went back for more luggage.

The closer I got to my old friend -- or the person I thought was my friend -- the tighter my hand squeezed Jenny's. I trembled like I was near explosion until Jenny yelped and I realized what I was doing. I quickly stopped, but the anger didn't go away.

Melody scooted away from Mary-Sue to clear a spot for me between them, but in my mind, I shook my head.

I released Jenny's hand, sat on the wooden crate beside them, and turned my knees away while Jenny searched for Rachel. Everyone had a ticket, including Miranda because like us, she was wanted for murder, arson, and attempted murder. They were even pinning Cody's death on us, but because no one could agree to what happened, it wasn't yet sticking.

Before we could board our train to Chicago, we had to wait for Miranda. She never said to us kids where she was going, but she was really quiet and secret-like with the other adults. Wherever she was, she was certain about going alone and left us with a promise to leave her behind if she didn't arrive by six-fifteen.

All we had was a circle clock at the entrance with brown around the Roman numerals. I never learned how to tell time and I didn't know Roman numerals.

_____

Miranda

"Bre? Bre. Brianna!"

Rats squealed and scurried through the alley from the abandoned chemical behind Blue Skies Penitentiary. Rotten bananas and rodent corpses suffocated me, but I forced myself to call for her.

I didn't concoct a plan to aid her escape -- many ideas roamed my mind but never lingered -- but in my desperation for all of us to leave Bullworth, New England if she'd have chiseled away the barred window, I would've stood underneath with open arms.

I watched her sunflower hair approach before the rest of her could. She stood at the bars with sunken eyes on a sullen face.

"Who is out there?"

"It's me: Miranda," I yelled through a whisper. She squinted and leaned forward on her elbows. As if it helped her remember me, her brows rose as did the corners of her mouth. When asked what I was doing there, I licked my lips and took a breath. "It sounds foolish, but I'm here to bust you out."

Bre let out a chuckle that resembled a heavy exhale and it tossed her shoulder and hair back. "Bust me out," she repeated incredulously. I nodded and she tilted her head slightly so her hair flowed evenly on one side. "It doesn't just sound foolish, it is foolish. Shouldn't you be on a train by now?"

I pursed my lips and mentally fanned her off. Turning at the heels and scouring for stable, mint condition crates or bins, I said, "I would be, yes, but I couldn't leave you." Again she snorted as if I was more amusing than a moving picture. My gaze landed on an empty produce crate and I stepped toward it. "What happened? How'd you get arrested in the first place?"

"I was foolish for thinking my father would forget the face of the lady who knocked him cold. Especially a face belonging to his daughter." The crate lacked a few boards. It would surely snap under her. "I was in the guest house when the police arrived; he reported me." One of the bins had rodent holes and claw marks from alley cats, but it was sturdy enough to me. Just as I hoisted it in my arms and turned to her, she said, "Don't worry about me, Miranda. I can handle my father and the law. You just focus on getting those children somewhere safe."

It was all I could find at that time, but I was determined to continue searching.

We spoke with feet of distance between us. From her cadence and yellow hair to my male garb, it reminded me of the German story Rapunzel by the Grimm Brothers. I did chuckle myself at the thought of her being not what she seemed if I climbed her hair.

It took a while of hushed back-and-forth before I gave into her demands and released the bin. It thunked at my feet.

I bid her goodbye, my voice as heavy and burdened as my face, and took a few steps away.

My back to her in the narrow alley, I hollered much louder than I meant, "Wait, speaking of," and returned to my place under the window. She listened with a cocked brow and I narrowed my eyes. "Does the name Annabelle Battles mean anything to you?"

"Sounds familiar."

"She's a mulatto with an Italian father and a negro mother. Your father had her committed per her parents' request and fear for her safety." She looked down and off to the side for a moment, before whipping her head back to me.

"Oh, yes, I remember! Her grandmother sent us plenty of letters but my father threw them out. I recovered one that said that they were moving to Italy, I believe." I spat an obscenity under my breath and positioned my hands on my hips. "Is everything okay?"

"Far from it." I scoffed, shaking my head. "I went with the little girl to reunite her with her next of kin, but was told that they'd moved away. Damn!"

She was quiet, watching my mind reel behind a finger pressed to my lips. Finally, softer than ever, she said, "Makes you wish you could go back in time, hm," and it stole my attention. She had a sly grin that sent shivers down my spine. "Me personally, I would've ended him where he sat. Maybe I'd be free now."

"Don't talk like that, Bre." I kept my voice firm despite my unease. I stopped her from making a decision that would surely upend her life -- that would take her life -- and all I thought about was my mother. I wished someone had the guts to talk sense into her before she pulled the trigger on my father. She'd have been alive if so. "Trust me, we'll find a way to get you out of here."

Bre formed a straight line with her mouth and her deep blue eyes rolled onto her new room. As she slowly turned away from me, she said, "Well, until then."