Page 39 of No Escape

Spinning around, I drop the first two trays onto the table, but I’m used to having Valor here to assist. The door almost closes from the heavy hinge and one of the guards slams a gloved hand against it.

In all the months I’ve been here, I’ve never seen one intercede.

If we don’t get what we need and the door closes?

It’stough luck, see you at the next pass in about six hours. During lockdowns, they leave trays at eight, two, and eight. Other than that, we’re left completely to our own devices.

“Glad to see you’re in one piece,” the man at the door says, sounding muffled from the full tactical helmet all the guards wear when out on the block.That’s not overkill or anything. “And it appears you took my advice.”

“Yes, thank you,” Saylor replies.

“Keep your chin up.”

She nods, and my jaw clenches.

“I’ve got the door. I need you to move so I can get the rest of the items,” I say, wondering if that’s the man she mentioned earlier.

Hmm, if he’s fond enough of Saylor that he’s willing to break long-standing protocol, maybe he did alert her family.

That means there’s a chance they could try to take her from us.

Grabbing the last tray, I balance it on one hand and collect the reusable shopping bag left on the top shelf.

It’s equally unusual that we’re given anything outside of food and drinks during these lockdowns, but I grew up poor. I’ll never turn down free shite.

“We’re clear,” another of the guards growls. “Shut the fucking door.”

They’re always so pleasant to deal with.

I roll my eyes, release my foot, and spin to face the little omega as the hinge does its job.

I truthfully thought there was no chance any of the guards would do anything to help her.

I now believe there’s a slim possibility someone could be coming with the intent of rescuing Saylor, meaning I need to move up my timelinesignificantly.

It might be underhanded, but Valor is my number one. Getting him back to his old self has always been my priority, and I won’t make any apologies about that.

ChapterTwelve

Saylor

When I was younger, I used to make up elaborate daydreams about going on big adventures. Other times, I’d create alternate universes where my mom didn’t die. I’d spend hours living in a world where she was still alive.

I’m a pro at maladaptive daydreaming. I’ve never been able to tell if that ability comes from the ADHD or the autism side of my AuDHD diagnosis. Either way, if I’m not careful, I’ll shut down completely.

My stress is at an all-time high. Usually, I can make it through any given crisis without having a breakdown, mostly because my system likes to go numb when I get too stressed. It’s always afterward that the panic and meltdowns hit.

I can’t decide if that man was trying to give me a clue…like maybe he did reach out to my family.

God.

I don’t know what to think.

Omen drops the reusable shopping bag on the bin he brought in earlier and moves to organize the food trays.

The table is meant to be a two-person setup, but I don’t mind.

I’ll sit on one of the gaming chairs, even if I won’t be able to use the table.

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