"So, Rachel, is there anything you feel uneasy about?"

"No, not really."

But that's a lie, isn't it? her mind whispered. Rachel only curled her fists tighter in her lap, white dress bunched up at her knees. It didn't matter what she felt, did it? Nobody cared about her, not really. It was probably for the better. She always ended up hurting those who did.

"...Alright then. Well, that should be enough for today. I apologize for being late, an appointment with another child ran over time." Her therapist, Ms. Simmons, shut the folder in front of her and gave Rachel a warm smile.

"I'll take you to your room, then. It's about time for you to sleep," Ms. Simmons said, glancing at her watch.

"It's fine, I can go back on my own," Rachel said.

Ms. Simmons frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, but we can't let you do that. It's protocol." Rachel stared back for a few seconds before inclining her head. The therapist seemed relieved. With her folder in hand, she opened the door. "Let's get going, shall we?"

The therapist left the room, but Rachel lingered behind for a bit longer. A strange longing seized her heart, pulling incessantly. Her eyes were drawn to the small window. Maybe I can climb out there and run away? I would be gone before they notice.

But what would be the point? There was nothing for her out there. The window was too high, anyway. She shook her head and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

"What a beautiful moon," the therapist said, pausing in front of the window. "On nights like these, it's best to hop right into bed."

Rachel glanced out the window in dull curiosity. It was a full moon, contrasting against the black veil of night sequined with glittering stars. Its glow was almost blinding in intensity. And if she squinted, there was almost a bluish tinge around its perimeter. It was also like this back then, wasn't it…?

"Rachel?" She looked up to find that Ms. Simmons was already halfway down the hallway. It was too dark to see her expression, but it was likely one of concern. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," Rachel said softly.

"You've really improved, you know. You're almost ready to leave, although it'll be a while until that actually happens. But you should be proud of yourself. You've come a long way from obsessing abouthim. "

There was a sound of shuffling. As Rachel drew nearer, she could see that Ms. Simmons appeared vaguely nervous. "Say, are you still worried about him? That Isaac Foster, even if he's in prison, it's perfectly natural to be afraid. Even I'm a little scared that he'll try to break out."

I hope, I hope- "I'm not."

"There's something I know that might reassure you. I shouldn't be telling you this, but it's alright, probably. You really have come a long way." At this point, it almost sounded like the therapist was rambling to herself. Rachel shifted around, her feet growing cold from the wooden floors. Finally, Ms. Simmons mustered up her courage and spoke.

"That killer," Ms. Simmons looked at Rachel square in the eyes, "is to be executed."

"...I see. Is that so?" Rachel wrapped her arms around herself. Something in her stomach sank, a cold and heavy mass that tugged at her innards. It felt like they were about to drop and leave only an empty space inside.

Even though it was summer, the hallway only grew colder as the therapist continued to speak. "Yes. I hope with that thought, you'll be able to sleep peacefully. Now, off to bed. I'll see you in the morning." She was shooed into her room and the door shut behind her, a firm and echoing sound.

Rachel listened to Ms. Simmons's steps fading away in time with the ticking of the clock. When she could no longer hear them, she turned around. The space was bathed in a soft, moonlight glow, the shadow of the windows stretching onto wooden panels. The outline of the moon could barely be seen through the silk curtains.

"The truth is," Rachel said to the emptiness of the room, "I haven't had a single restful night of sleep since I got here." The wood creaked mournfully as she, like many nights before, walked over to stand in front of the desk. Taking the knife out from its hidden crevice, she placed it on the surface and watched as light danced on the edge of the blade. As soon as Rachel took a step forward, though, the light was immediately snuffed out by her shadow.

(That killer is to be executed.)

"Ah…I really am no good," she whispered. With a soft sigh, Rachel put away the knife, weariness suddenly tugging her eyes. Perhaps she might actually be able to go to sleep tonight.

She stopped at the side of her bed, hand lingering over straightened sheets. Before everything, Rachel remembered kneeling down every night to offer a short prayer to God. A thanks for the day and a hope for a better one when morning dawned.

Nowadays, she didn't bother. But…

(...executed.)

Just once more wouldn't hurt.

The steady ticking of the clock, the midnight concert of crickets, the whistling breeze of the wind… It seemed like tonight would also be sleepless, no matter how much she had hoped otherwise. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face against a soft, downy pillow as if to smother all breaths.

Rachel, if you can't go to sleep, try counting something. It doesn't have to be sheep, but the repetitive motions may lull you to sleep. You might think it's childish, but give it a try! There's a reason why so many people say it to their children.

Flipping over to her back, Rachel inhaled deeply before fixating onto the rhythmic beat of the clock. It wasn't like there was anything else for her to do.

One, two, three, four, five, six….

Just when she had gotten to four-hundred and was about to doze off, a strange noise, like small pebbles being thrown at glass, interrupted her counting, effectively chasing off the shadows of sleep that had been creeping in. Rachel frowned and huddled deeper into her blankets, wishing the irritating sound would go away.

A thud resonated in the room, suddenly loud compared to the small ones from before. Hastily, Rachel slid off the covers and looked around. Another thud pinpointed the source coming from…

"The window?" she uttered. Is it late night construction? Or...

"Rachel? What's that sound?" Rachel could hear Ms. Simmons from the other side of the wall. So it's not from someone who works here? Rachel thought, her heart beating louder and louder until it was almost the same volume as the banging coming from outside. If it's not someone from here, then…

Rachel ran to her desk and threw the drawer open, taking the knife with her before slamming it shut. It grazed her finger but she could hardly care less. She then eyed the cardboard boxes pushed against the wall, filled with books to the brim. Coming to a decision, Rachel shoved them in front of the door, straining her muscles to quickly block entry.

Just in the nick of time too, judging from the increasingly frantic jiggles of the doorknob and Ms. Simmons's equally frantic voice. "Rachel? Rachel, open up right now! Do you hear me? Rachel?"

She stepped towards the window and opened the curtains. Rachel took a step back, the spindly spiderweb cracks spreading on the window further increased in size as the banging continued. It might've been her mind playing tricks on her (oh God, please let it not be), but through the glazed glass, she thought she could make out a dark figure.

"What's going on in there? ...I-I got to call the police!" Footsteps faded away as Ms. Simmons's voice disappeared. Giving the door behind her a cursory glance, Rachel pressed her hands onto the window, hopes soaring higher with every thud. On the other side...On the other side, could it be-? Unconsciously, she leaned even closer. Then-

"-Get back!"

"!"

Wide-eyed, Rachel scrambled backwards and fell onto the floor, barely catching herself with splayed fingers. She didn't feel pain at all, only absorbed in the sight before her as the window shattered into pieces.

There was glass sprinkled in a bed of black-tousled hair, catching light and bouncing off until it shone into Rachel's eyes. Despite it, she kept looking. A childish part of her insisted that if she dared to blink, the image would be gone and never to return.

She got up on shaky legs and took a step forward. And then another, and then she was walking with no hesitation. The curtains blew on either side of the figure perched on the windowsill; the moon shining behind was reminiscent of a halo.

Like...an angel.

"Taaada!"

The knife clattered besides her, having fallen out of her grip. Rachel traced the outline of his face, red-stained bandages wrapped around every patch of skin only to let mismatched eyes show. Noticing her attention, he tilted his head to the side, giving the sense of an unsaid, Well? with a crooked grin.

"...Zack?" she whispered.

His grin only grew larger as he, Zack , replied, "Aw, look at ya makin' that face again. How boring."

"Zack, how did…" Rachel's voice got stuck in her throat.

"Huh? How did I what?"

"You're not...you're supposed to be in prison!"

Zack laughed, leaning against the wall. "Prisons, they're pretty much meant to be broken out of, right?!"

"But back then, I said I'd bear the outcome of our oath." Even now, though, she could feel her body getting lighter as if being relieved of a heavy weight. It was freeing.

"So what? I mean, do ya even have the right to bear it? It's not just yours, it's ours!" At that, Zack jabbed a thumb at himself, looking strangely pleased.

"Zack...so you still want to...kill me?" Me, a useless girl who only drags people down. Me, a selfish girl who tries to take everything away from others-

"Who d'ya think you're talking to here? I never lose sight of somethin' I want, right?!"

It was something in his eyes, brimming with smugness and a dash of fear (fear of what? Rejection? She could never -) that made her move. She stretched a wavering hand in his direction but not before Zack could see. He climbed back onto the windowsill and said gruffly, smile fading slightly, "Hurry up. We don't have much time left. Or did you forget?"

With her outstretched arm, Rachel grasped onto the worn fabric of Zack's hoodie. He looked back, slightly startled. "No, Zack," she said.

From the window, she could see lines of cars blinking, the invisible breeze of a hot summer. Tiny ants of people moved in the streets, even at this time of night. All in all, it was a normal sight to see on any given day.

But right now, it felt like she was on the top of the world.

"I'd never forget," she told him. Her tears broke free as she smiled up at him, uncaring of appearances. "It's an oath you and I swore together, right?

"You and I," he echoed before his grin returned full blast without a trace of doubt. "Yeah, that's more like it!"

"Hurry, this way!" a familiar voice, Ms. Simmons, yelled. The two of them flinched, Zack swearing under his breath.

"Ah, shit." He snapped his attention back to Rachel who was still clinging to his jacket. "Ready to go, Ray?"

"Mhm...yeah," she said as the sound of multiple battering rams filled the room. She scanned the place she had resided in for the span of several months. Rachel wouldn't be missing it anytime soon. Her eyes alighted onto the dropped knife, gleaming on the floor. Now that Zack's here...I won't need it anymore, she thought, flicking her gaze back.

"Time to hit the road," Rachel heard him mumble. He tightened an arm around her shoulders, preparing to leave. It was a comforting kind of warmth. The kind of warmth that made you feel like everything was going to turn out okay.

"Hey, Zack?"

"Yeah?"

"Please...kill me," she said with a tearful but bright smile, tilting her head back.

Zack ruffled her hair shortly before leaping out the window, Rachel in tow. Over the whistling over the wind, she could barely hear him yell with a sort of glee, "Then stop crying and smile!"

Rachel Gardner knew she was useless, selfish. That's why she had turned to God; because people had told her that He accepted everyone as His children, that His love was unconditional. But in the end...it wasn't really because of faith that she believed in God, was it? She wanted to be desired in both life and death. Something that was never given to her by her parents or by anyone else (until now).

Her problems (and Rachel knew that she had them) wouldn't miraculously float away. She wouldn't just wake up and suddenly become a normal girl. No, when she woke the next morning, she would still be the useless and selfish girl that she was now.

But maybe it's okay to be selfish just this once, she thought as she ran, wind whipping back her hair. Zack was by her side, yelling at her to hurry it up, why don't ya? as police sirens blared from behind. Her tears had long dried and she could feel a flush to her cheeks from a mixture of adrenaline and joy. Above them, the moon watched on benevolently.

Rachel Gardner and Isaac Foster, united in an oath of death.

...That didn't sound too bad.

Not bad at all.