The Numbers on Her Wrist

37

A/N. Apologies for any grammatical errors in this chapter. I have been busy all week and literally wrote this chapter starting one A.M the past three or four nights... It's extra long for me being extra late so I hope you enjoy my lovelies (I don't know if it's still up, but vote for me in the Wattys on Twitter! I love you all so so so so much and everything you do is signify appreciated)

The girl numbered 587 sticks close to my right side as we walk down the first hallway leading outside and away from the dormitories, with her face scrunched up in observable concentration she holds tightly onto the knife that I offered to her for her protection and that of the others. She seemed the most capable of the orphans lined in the front with me; perhaps it is because she reminds me of me; I can tell that her hair has been dyed from its natural hue to black just like mine was when I was her age.

I glance warily over my shoulder to check on the twenty-three other children that are huddled together in the ill-lit hallways, hands grasping at one another or their clothing for comfort and heads swaying both backwards and to the front in search for any noise that is not our footsteps or our breathing. 541 and I changed our minds at the last second and gathered a few more than we originally planned to travel with me the first round- our logic was that we are more likely to be caught the second time I lead the children to freedom; by then, I suspect at least one thing will have gone amiss.

Everyone is completely silence, utterly speechless with fear or excitement or joy, and a word is only spoken when the older kids I positioned in the back guide the youngest of us back into line or when I give a whispered order.

We have yet to see a guard or a leader of the Association as we make the next few turns carefully- even with my best instincts, I cannot decide whether this is a good sign or a bad sign.

My choice is suddenly made for me.

At the sound of a man humming loudly around the next left we need to make, my steady heart rate picks up dramatically. Heavy boots pound across the tiles and contrast with the quiet pattering of the children's gentle shoes. I hold up a hand, halting everyone's progress instantly and gaining a few mumbles from the back for us to remain silent and still.

"587," I breathe without turning my head towards her, prompting the girl to move her eyes to look at me, and I quickly tuck my gun into my waistband after clicking the safety on. I retrieve myself the other knife stashed inside my satchel, slowly meeting her gaze as I speak so softly I am sure she is the only one to hear me, "I need you to cover me, okay? Just stay behind this corner up here and only show yourself if you see that something goes wrong of I call for help." I don't give her the option to question me or try to change my decision, only waiting for a second to catch sight of her firm nod. I inch forward with her behind me, adjusting my grip on the handle of the weapon better, ready to defend myself.

I press my back against the wall heavily, sliding to the very edge to allow myself to peek around the corner and check for the man; although I am glad there is only one man, I curse under my breath when I see that he is only a few meters away from the edge of the hall. This makes it absolutely impossible for me to take him down without the risk of being caught in the open. I look to 587 once again and nod, letting the girl ready herself as I slowly take my first step to the left of the corridor. Luckily, he is pacing with his back to me with an earbud curled around his ear as it blares music, allowing me sneak up on him easily as I lengthen my stride to make a minimal amount of sound.

I am almost tempted to tap him on the shoulder to see the surprise on his face when he turns, but I force away the thought as alarm bells ring inside my head- that would be a stupid, dangerous thing to do that only works out well in books or movies; they are fictional and unrealistic and not exactly an example I want to follow right now. Instead, I continue to stalk forwards with my knife held loosely in one hand and my other free for fighting hand-to-hand combat should the opportunity arise.