Her voice.
Her blonde hair.
Her amber eyes.
The mole under her left eye.
Things I remember appear all at once.
She runs to me.
There's no hesitation. No pause to check if it's allowed. She hits my chest and wraps her arms around me like she's afraid I'll disappear if she doesn't.
I catch her.
My arms close around her before I think to stop them. The contact is solid. Human. The weight of her presses me into myself.
My heart hits hard, sudden and uncoordinated.
I don't understand why.
For a moment, the space around us stops shrinking. The corridor, the doors, the noise—none of it presses in. There is only this: someone here, anchored to me.
I hold her tighter than required.
She exhales against my coat. The sound shakes.
My hands stay where they are.
Too long.
I know this.
I don't move them.
She pulls back first.
Her hands leave my coat slowly. She looks up at me, searching, like she's checking whether I am real—or whether she is.
"I didn't see how it started," she says. Her voice is rough. "I was still in my cell."
I listen.
"There were guards in the corridor. Standing close. Then they left."
She swallows.
"Then prisoners came. From outside."
Her shoulders rise, then fall. "It was fast."
"They opened the cells. Ours first. Then the rest."
Her fingers twitch, restless.
"Everyone ran."
She looks at me again.
Waiting.
I don't know what to say.
So I stay.
And when I take her hand this time, I do it deliberately.
I turn slightly so Ashlynn can see Gary.
"This is Gary," I say.
He's a step back, injured hand wrapped tight, coat worn like it's older than him.
Gary lifts his good hand. "Hi."
Ashlynn's eyes drop to the bandage. "You're bleeding."
"Yeah," he says. "Usually I'm complete."
She looks at me. Then back at him.
"You got him here?"
"He got himself here," Gary says. "I just didn't stop him."
A pause.
"Thank you," she says.
Gary shifts, uncomfortable. "We should move. The prison is awake."
That's enough.
I nod.
Gary leads the way. We follow.
We move through the corridor and reach a familiar door on the right.
"This goes to the hallway," I say.
"Yes. We can go down through here," Gary says.
He opens the door.
The T-section. Third-floor hallway.
Bodies everywhere. Faceless guards. Prisoners. But mostly faceless guards.
We step through them and stop near the center.
The air feels thinner the longer we stand still.
Gary exhales.
"It went differently in my head," he says, concern flickering across his face.
He pauses.
"I was expecting a different scene." He smirks.
Silence. Awkward.
Ashlynn steps forward, breaking it. "Okay. Then how do we call the elevator?"
"You can't," Gary says. He shrugs. "It hasn't worked in a week."
He points toward an open door along the wall.
"Through that one."
We move.
Stairs. Up and down. Footprints everywhere. Blood smeared along the edges. All of it recent.
"We need to reach the fifth floor. Quickly," Gary says.
"Why?" I ask.
"Prisoners go up." He says.
A beat.
"Wardens go down."