Chapter 2

Run to where the smallest ray of light will never find you
Run to where you will not need to shield your eyes
Run away from all the soulless, heartless fiends who hound you
Run away and let your memories go blind . . .
~ 'Devour' by Disturbed

Screaming echoed down the girl's hallway of St. Alodia's Home. Terrified, mindless screaming. Girls woke up to it and, concerned, opened their doors to see who was in so much pain. A few of them stepped out and looked around in confusion, as other doors opened and heads popped out. One teenager began knocking on everyone's door, waiting until they opened it to see who was doing the awful yelling.
Once everyone was awake, they all looked around in confusion and fear. It was none of them, so who could be making that horrid sound? One of the teenagers at the end of the hall finally pinpointed it to one of the gray doors, and when she tried to open it, she found it locked.
"Get Clarice, quick!" she ordered one of the younger children. Many of the girls had covered their ears against the anguished wailing at that point - it sounded as if someone was dying. A pale haired preteen nodded and took off down the hall, bare feet flying until she reached the front end of the building. She ran up to an unmarked brown door, and banged on it frantically.
There was a brief silence, save for the distant, high yells, than a lock was undone and Clarice opened the door, wrapping a robe around her slim form. "Heather, what is it?"
"Someone's screaming, Clarice, at the end of the hall!" the girl rushed out.
Worried now, Clarice stepped out of her room and shut the door. "Who is it?"
"We don't know, her door is locked."
The older woman recalled the young redhead she took in that night, and gasped. "Oh, Lord, it must be Robyn. Quickly, Heather!" They both rushed over to the desk and Clarice stepped in. She opened the drawer where she kept copies of each room's key, and located Robyn's. The two took off in a run down the long hallway, towards the group of girls gathered around the offending doorway, some with hands over their ears. The shrieking continued in high pitched tones, and there were some thumps of movement from inside.
"Move out of the way, ladies, go back to your rooms!" Clarice ordered briskly, although the girls only pulled back from the doorway. She turned the key in the lock, and opened the door. The woman gaped at the thrashing figure in the bed, tangled in her sheets and clawing at the mattress. In another split second, the girl's body fell off the bed with a thump, flashes of white, blue and red as she continued to fight off an unknown foe.
"Robyn!" Clarice raised her voice against the girl's caterwauling. She approached the teen and made a grab for her flailing wrists. She caught one, and couldn't stop the dreaming redhead from trying to dig her nails into the other woman's arm. Clarice made a desperate grab for her other arm, trying to ignore the kicks delivered to her shin by the still sleeping girl. Robyn's free arm flailed as she tried to escape her unknown assailant, and before the woman knew it, the girl's hand flew out and struck Clarice in the face.
Stunned but not deterred, the woman took the opportunity and seized the hand. Once she had a firm hold on both wrists, she got on her knees and tried to pin down Robyn's lower half to keep her from further harming Clarice and herself. "Robyn, wake up!" the woman demanded firmly. She shook the screaming girl, hoping that would jar her out of her nightmare, but it wasn't proving effective. The woman hesitated for a moment before slapping the hysterical child across the cheek.
The slap finally jarred Robyn awake, and wide, tearful green eyes snapped open. The struggling slowly stopped, but her eyes were still filled with an unknown fear.
"Robyn?" Clarice said softly.
"I have to get away from here!" the girl spoke hoarsely, desperately. "It's coming for me!" She let out a sob and pinned Clarice with tormented eyes. She shook Clarice's arms for emphasis. "You have to let me out of here, I don't want it to get me!"
"What to get you, Robyn?" Clarice asked, confused and frightened by the mass of emotions pouring out of the thin body. "What's coming for you?"
Robyn, however, didn't hear her. She pulled her arms away from the woman and wrapped them around her legs. She sobbed into her knees, emitting frightened, incoherent cries. Clarice reached out and touched her shoulders, to which Robyn flinched and backed away, but the woman wouldn't have any of it. She gathered the girl in a hug and began rocking her back and forth, hushing her and smoothing out her hair as she cried into Clarice's robe.
The woman looked over towards the door and spotted quite a few girls still standing in the door, looks of horror and astonishment on their faces. "To your rooms, ladies!" she said sharply. Startled by the tone, the teenagers and younger girls scattered, leaving Clarice alone with the terrified girl.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jason was backhanded the moment he returned to the warehouse, their temporary home base. The force of the blow sent him sprawling to the ground, and the teen gritted his teeth against the pain. He spat out blood, then stood back up to meet Lord Kortez's furious, cold gaze.
"You failed me, boy," the priest rasped out."You failed me, and you failed Nago."
"I had her!" Jason argued back."I had her, but the little rat screamed help and someone called the cops!"
Sheila snorted. "You let a few blues and a skinny redhead get the best of you? My, my, your superior strength just astounds me, Jason," she sneered.
"Shut up," Jason gave her a dirty look."And anyway, I didn't see you or Derek anywhere. Where the hell were you while I was chasing her?"
"The crowd was thick, there was nothin' we could do," Derek excused. "Besides, we figured you'd get her."
"Enough bickering," Kortez silenced them sharply."I am tired of hearing the three of you place blame on the other. All of you are to blame, one way or another. Fortunately, there is a way to rectify this." The three perked up, and they stared at the old priest expectantly. "You say the police took her in."
Jason nodded. "Yeah, they told me they had her when they were breathing down my neck about why I was chasing her."
Sheila raised an eyebrow at him."I hope you weren't dumb enough to let anything slip."
The taller teenager sneered at her."Yeah, I ratted us out and told them where you lived, Sheila." She glared at him moodily, and Kortez took over.
"They're not likely to let her go after this," the priest mused. His robes swished with movement as he paced slowly back and forth, a tight grip on his staff. "She is a runaway, a foster child. They'll try and place her back with someone, or within a foster home. Do any of you know which ones she spoke of?" The three shook their heads. "Who has she been staying with?"
"Me," Sheila quipped up. "But I don't think she's stupid enough to come back."
"Even so, keep an eye out for her. You two," Kortez turned to stare down Derek and Jason. Derek looked away from the old man's piercing gaze, but Jason stared back. "Visit the foster facilities within the city and ask for her. Persuade them to check with other foster homes to find her location."
"Aww, but there's dozens of foster homes in the city!" Derek protested."This could take days, weeks!"
"Then so be it," Kortez interjected harshly."If she was not allowed to get way in the first place, this would not be a problem. If we have to upturn this entire city to find that girl, than by all means, we will do it. She is crucial to the rebirth of Nago, and for that reason, she is highly important. I do not care what it takes - we will find her."
"If she's at one of the foster homes, "Jason stated, "do we-"
"Come and tell me where," Kortez explained. "Do not attempt to take her out by yourselves, that will only draw more authorities there when she recognizes you."
"Then what, do we break in and take her at night or something?"Jason asked.
Kortez smiled cruelly. "Boy, I did not grant you the powers you possess for nothing."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She didn't remember acting the way Clarice told her. The way she heard some of the girls whispering about when Clarice took her out of the room to get food. All she remembered was the dream. Of being back there. That digging in her soul - always digging, and pulling at her as she tried to pull back and keep a tight hold on everything good inside her. That was all she knew as she slept, and she fought and fought to get away. She didn't know she was fighting Clarice, or that the screaming she was doing against Nago was the same screams everyone else heard.
It was humiliating. Not remembering any of her actions, just facing the looks she got from the other teens in the home. Like Robyn really cared, but it was still unnerving when she didn't remember doing anything wrong. Clarice hadn't said much, only that it wasn't Robyn's fault and she just needed to calm down and try to forget it for today. Then she had disappeared into her office, and God only knew what she was doing in there.
She could feel the stares of the other girls as she sat hunched in one of the benches of the small cafeteria. There were boys from the home there, as well, but they hadn't heard the screams, and there wasn't much talk going on. Just a lot of whispering. It was starting to annoy Robyn, but she felt it was just best to stay quiet. She didn't plan on staying there for very long at all, but she knew Clarice wouldn't let her just walk out of there on her own. Even so, Robyn felt the urgent need to flee - leave the city, and get as far away from it as possible. Maybe the further away she was, the less painful it would be to remember, to sleep and not dream. Already she was dreading the thought of going to sleep that night and facing another memory -
"Hey."
Robyn's head shot up and to her left, where the voice came from. A girl sat on the bench next to her, looking at her solemnly through pale blue eyes. Light brown hair framed her pale face, and she spoke with a heavy Brooklyn accent. "You a runaway?"
Robyn studied her quietly for a moment, then shrugged. "Something like that." Feeling the need to do something under the blatant stare of the girl, she picked up her fork and forced herself to eat a few bites of the pancakes. Normally, she loved them, but now they just tasted like cardboard in her mouth.
"Abused?"
Her fork paused midway to her mouth for a second bite, and Robyn looked at the girl out of the corner of her eye. "I don't see how it's any of your business."
The younger girl smirked. Couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen, Robyn deducted. "Whatever. Just tryin' to figure out what would make you scream like a banshee and hit the social worker like that."
"Bad nightmare,"Robyn muttered, then jolted. "I hit her?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "Clocked her pretty good in your sleep."
Robyn's brow furrowed with extreme guilt, and a certain measure of fear. She couldn't remember hitting anyone - why would she hit Clarice in her sleep? She had to make sure to apologize to the woman next time she saw her, and Robyn hoped something like that wouldn't happen again. She hated having nightmares, but it didn't sit well at all that she had unknowingly hurt someone else by having them.
"So what, were you raped or somethin'?"
This time, Robyn's fork clattered to the tray, and she gave the girl somewhat of a dirty look. "No. Were you?"
"No," the girl shook her head. "But it's happened. Lotta the girls that were raped at some point have nightmares like that. Figured you were one of 'em."
"Sorry, I didn't have the pleasure," Robyn smiled falsely at the girl, who found it hard to miss the sarcasm dripping from the statement. The brunette eyed her for a moment, her gaze falling on the red marks and bruises on the thin redhead's arms.
"Rough boyfriend?" she asked pleasantly.
"Look," Robyn turned and gave the other teenager her full attention. "What I've been through is no one's business but mine. I'm not going to sit down and grill you about why you're here, so do us both a favor and stop doing the same to me, okay kid?"
The other girl's eyes narrowed, and for a moment she was silent. Then she nodded. "Fair enough.” As quickly as she had sat down, she snuck away. Robyn sighed to herself, and her attention wandered to how long she would be staying here. The next obvious coice would be to try and place her with another family, and the thought had her shuddering.
Fate apparently enjoyed placing Robyn with families she couldn't stand. It would work out all right in the beginning, when everyone was just focusing on being polite and getting used to having one extra person in the household . . . but after that, true personalities began to show. A lot of them didn't view Robyn as someone they would consider their child, but someone to help keep their house and help with their other children. If that wasn't the case, they were overbearing - nitpicking into her personal life, disapproving of everything she did, trying to mold her into what they considered a good 'daughter'. She disliked them all, felt the need to get away from each of those couples - who were they to try and change her? She shouldn't have to feel obligated to always do what they say, or be made to feel guilty because they had taken her in when they 'didn't have to'. Never again would she allow herself to feel thankful to the point that she would do anything to be accepted by these thankless people the foster facilities placed her with.
Robyn knew there were good couples out there who took in foster children, but she just hadn't encountered any yet. She would stay with those families for a few months, and when it was time for an evaluation, she would insist on leaving. Then it was back to New York Foundling, and months later Robyn would find herself back in the three ring circus of being handed out to another family. To another disappointment.
Before she allowed herself to fall into that funk of bitterness and self-pity she sometimes couldn't help but get in, Robyn pulled herself back and decided to count her blessings. She had gotten away from that freak priest and that satanic ritual, and now her only problem was getting out of New York. She could do it - Robyn knew in her heart that she would be able to do it. Many times she'd underestimated her own ability to do things, like get away the night before, and she did. Whether it was a stroke of luck or divine intervention, she was able to escape, and she wasn't going to let herself get caught again. That wasn't an option. However terrifying what happened last night was, Robyn wasn't going to let the nightmare of a memory frighten her into doing nothing. I'm getting out of here, Robyn thought fiercely, because staying isn't possible. I will not let them get me, and I will not go through that again.
"Robyn?"
The redhead blinked, her eyes focusing into the pancakes she had been mutilating with her fork and knife. Slowly putting them down, she looked up and at Clarice's face, which was dark with a growing bruise on one side. Immediate guilt washed over Robyn. "I'm so sorry for hitting you," she blurted out, feeling nervous and ashamed. "I really didn't meant to hit anyone -"
"Oh dear, it's all right," Clarice soothed her. "You were sleeping, you could hardly be accountable for your actions. Relax, Robyn. I actually came to speak to you about something else. Now, I've spoken with a few people, and we've all agreed that you should stay here for about a week, and see where that takes us."
Robyn felt her stomach drop. "I have to stay here? For a week?"
"Yes," Clarice nodded firmly." We're . . ." she hesitated for a moment, then said delicately, "concerned about your situation, and feel that its best for you to stay here for the time being, where you're safe."
"Look, I don't think that guy's going to come back after me," Robyn argued. "It was a random thing, I think I'll be all right to go back to Foundling sooner."
Brooding with the thoughts in her head, Clarice shook her head just as firmly. "Please, Robyn, it would be best if you stayed here."
"I can walk out of here, can't I?" Robyn asked, her voice taking on a desperate edge as if she didn't hear the woman's last comment. "You can't keep me here, it's a shelter. People walk in and out all of the time."
"Not if they are minors," Clarice told her, almost apologetically. "We keep minors here until either their parents come for them, they decide they are ready to go back to their families, or foster facilities take them in. You are still a minor, Robyn."
She was so sick of hearing that. She didn't feel like a minor at all. "Well, I decide I'm ready to leave. No offense, but I'd really like to go. I'll go back to Foundling, I know the way there -"
"Robyn, it . . . doesn't really work that way." Clarice sat down on the bench next to Robyn, who was now clutching the edge of the table with a white knuckled grip. "If you had a family to go back to, and you felt you were ready to go back, then yes, by all means you could leave. But," the woman covered Robyn's tense hands with her own, trying to reassure the girl just as fervently as she was trying to get her to stay without a fight." You don't have a family to go back to. The people at New York Foundling believe it best for you to stay here for just a little while longer, than they will take you back and you can work out something between them from there. Until then, I want you to relax, Robyn, and make good use of what's offered to you here. Shelter, food, we will provide anything you need."
The redhead stared into Clarice's pleading eyes solemnly. The rational side of her told her that staying here would probably be best, but the other side of her screamed at her to stop listening to this drivel and get the hell away from this place. It was a matter of survival. But then again . . . they wouldn't really think of coming for her in a public place, would they? And the only people who knew she was here were the two cops. So maybe . . . no. No, she had to leave, she couldn't stay - they were evil, and they would find a way if she stayed, she could feel it.
Maybe she could sneak out - at night. That night. She would be long gone by the time Clarice was awake and they went looking for her. The thought of doing that calmed Robyn down considerably.
"All right," she told the woman in a small voice. "I'll stay for this week."
Clarice smiled, and squeezed the teenager's hands before letting go. "Good, I'm glad you're all right with this, Robyn. Right now, I just want you to eat - you're so thin!" Malnourished was more like it, the woman thought, taking in the girl's thin arms, legs, and slim stomach. No doubt her ribs would show easily if she stretched. "I expect you to eat every meal here."
Robyn nodded to pacify her, then hid a grimace as she forked another sausage and popped it in her mouth. "Will do."
The woman nodded, and stood up to leave. When she turned her back, her brow creased in worry. She had spoken with New York Foundling about Robyn's welfare, and in doing so, she mentioned the episode they had this morning.
The foster facility brought many things to light that had furthered Clarice's worry for the gaunt, haunted girl, and after speaking with them, she did a little research on her own thanks to the facilities cooperation. After all, Clarice sometimes needed to know the background of the boys and girls she took in to know whether they were safe or dangerous, like many of the children off the streets seemed to be nowadays.
What the woman found, and what she had been told, astounded her. An alcoholic father that dished out both physical and mental abuse, and a schizophrenic mother who did the same - Lord, who had tried to kill her own child numerous times - and then killed herself when the girl was very young. The sources said she had found the body, and from then on, the father went on a downhill spiral and dragged his young child down with him. Peculiarly, Robyn had lived in Japan then - she didn't look Japanese, but the woman assumed they had moved there from America since the girl had some cousins living in another state.
Cousins that would not take her in. After a neighbor in Japan called the police on Robyn's father after a particularly brutal episode, they had taken her into America to live with the cousins, who apparently hadn't the room or the inclination to take care of her. Robyn ended up going through foster homes and facilities for the remaining ten years - Mainly in the New York area. According to the caretakers at the homes, Robyn was a constant recluse, always very quiet and sullen, and sometimes moody - one moment eager to please, the next rebelling her families and never staying with them for more than a number of months at a time. Her longest was seven months in Albany.
Clarice had been with the system for decades, and she had seen cycles like this before. Normally, this particular case wouldn't worry her so much, but the information she found became worse. Robyn frequently showed signs of depression, and although she didn't receive excellent grades in school, it was apparent that the girl was very smart by her SATs and ACT scores. There was a pattern of nightmares and insomnia when she was a child that died down when she was nine or ten. She also had a phobia with water - a few of the reports from families who had taken her back to the foster facilities themselves mentioned incidents with pools. The family in Albany owned an inground pool, and by accident at another sibling's birthday party, she fell in. She had a reported 'psychotic episode' for hours, to the point that they rushed her to the hospital. She became so withdrawn for weeks afterwards, they feared the nine year old was autistic. Psychiatric help was mentioned, but the family couldn't deal with it and took her back to the foster facilities. Because of this, she was never evaluated.
Robyn had been prone to running away for a while. When she had been younger, she had bouts of irrational anger, directed more at herself than others, that clearly stemmed from the abuse she had been subjected to in her childhood. She also had highs and lows - periods of time where she seemed generally content, almost pleasant, that would disappear into quiet, withdrawn stages. She had been showing these signs for years, and no one put forth effort to do anything about it.
The teenager had all the signs, and more, of clinical depression. Given her dismal background, it was no wonder. Even so, something had to have happened recently to recall back nightmares, and Clarice suspected abuse of some kind. It was also a strike against the young teen that her mother had schizophrenia, a disease that could be inherited through genetics. She had thought it bizarre that Robyn had screamed about an 'it' rather than a 'he' or 'she', but it was too early to tell whether that was significant or not.
New York Foundling had encouraged her to keep Robyn there for a week and monitor her behavior - a sort of non-professional screening. She was going to watch how Robyn slept, ate, and whether the nightmares would keep occurring. Clarice had already promised herself she would do so, but it seemed that Foundling was finally ready to act due to the attempted assault Robyn went through last night. If Robyn's behavior worsened, they would have no choice but to go in for a psychiatric evaluation long overdue.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Robyn avoided most of the girls over the course of the day, spending most of it in her room. She had briefly considered a nap because she was so exhausted, but she was afraid to go to sleep - she didn't want to dream. It was an irrational fear that she'd had when she was a kid, and it burned to have it come back. Robyn hated being afraid of merely sleeping, but she was - just as she was afraid to stay.
The only time she talked to one of the girls in an actual conversation was to find out information on the home they were in. A tall girl named Rachel with dirty blonde hair and sullen brown eyes told her what she knew since she'd been there for about three weeks. Robyn was able to find out everything from what time Clarice usually went to bed to where they kept the key to the front doors. She wasn't sure, however, if that would be necessary, since Clarice didn't lock the doors until after midnight - apparently a lot of runaways came in around that time. As long as Clarice was in her office and not at the front desk, Robyn was sure she'd be able to walk out with little trouble.
Even so, she could feel herself growing edgier and more nervous as midnight approached. She tried to form a plan to follow after she escaped, but every one she thought of became foiled when she realized she had no money. She would have to walk to wherever she had to go, and she wasn't exactly sure where on the outskirts of New York she was. Robyn wasn't comfortable with the prospect of hitchhiking at midnight, and she didn't know if there was anyplace she could safely sleep. The weather wouldn't be a problem - since it was the beginning of June, it was pretty warm out, even at night, promising a hot summer.
She tried to remember if there were any neighborhoods in the area on the police ride to the home, but her memory of the ride was pretty foggy, or at least the scenery was. Robyn could only hope that there would be a new neighborhood somewhere, with half built houses that she could curl up in for some sleep. Once she was able to catch a ride, preferably a ride west, maybe she could stop in some small town for a few weeks, get a job to get some money. Save up for a car.
Once Robyn was able to form a semi-solid plan that held promise, she grew more excited than nervous, although butterflies still swarmed in her stomach. What's my stopping point? she wondered to herself as she sat indian style on the bed, glancing up at the clock on the wall every ten minutes. Should I stay in the country, maybe head for the west coast? Or maybe south, for Mexico.
Robyn snorted. Mexico, right. I can't speak that language to save my life, she thought ruefully. There was one language Robyn could speak, though, and her thoughts went back to where her childhood was spent, and the people she knew there. Cye . . . Her mind pictured the boy perfectly - thin, pale, with wild rusty brown hair and the most gorgeous eyes she had ever seen. Such a brilliant color, a mixing of deep green and grey, they were so pretty to look at, so expressive. He had been her neighbor, but he had been more than that - he'd been an anchor. The only solid, real, wonderful thing in her life was her childhood friend, and she remembered how much it hurt to have to leave him.
He would be seventeen now, like her. Robyn tried to picture a grown-up Cye, and she laughed to herself when she realized she couldn't do it. All she remembered was the shy little boy that she had shared all her secrets with and found comfort with when things at home got too rough. He never questioned - never asked what happened, never voiced what was going on, because he knew that wasn't what she needed. He was simply there for her, and if she had ever wanted to talk about it, he would listen. He gave so selflessly to her, and she had loved him like a child would love a beloved friend. Him and his mother became her family, a haven from the nightmare at her house, and Robyn had never forgotten them. Remembering them was such a bittersweet feeling, a sense of nostalgia - they represented a happiness that Robyn hadn't felt since then.
She wondered what they were doing right now. It didn't seem plausible to try to run there, all the way to Japan - and Robyn wasn't sure if she wanted to bring her wealth of problems to their doorstep. They had done so much for her when she was a child, and the least she could do for them was make sure these psycho lunatics after her didn't reach them. But the thought of going back to see Cye made her smile, and it was certainly tempting. Maybe one day, she vowed to herself. One day I'll go back there, and let them know that what they did for me meant everything.
Robyn had spent so long thinking that when she glanced up at the clock, it was a few minutes past midnight. Urgency rushed through her, and she stood up and made for the door. Quietly opening it, she peeped her head out and scanned the hall, noting with relief that all the doors were closed. She slid out and shut the door just as quietly. Robyn walked briskly down the long hall, and when she finally got a view of the front desk, she let out a string of curses in her mind.
Clarice sat at the front desk, speaking on the phone with someone. Since Robyn was already within sight of her, she decided to keep going and make for the bathroom instead. If worse came to worse, she could run the shower for ten or fifteen minutes, but then again, in that time Clarice would have probably locked the doors. Well shit, Robyn thought with annoyance. This sucks.
The redhead walked across the lobby, and Clarice looked up. She smiled when she saw Robyn, and the girl smiled thinly back before disappearing into the bathroom. Robyn sighed in aggravation when she got in. She hadn’t been in there for half a minute when she heard commotion in the front lobby - loud voices.
Curious, Robyn peered out of the bathroom. A girl had come in the front doors, yelling rapidly in a different language. Spanish, Robyn thought as she took in the girl's dark hair and tan skin.
The teenager was bruised on her face and arms and extremely angry. Clarice had stepped out from behind the front desk to calm her down. The woman didn't speak Spanish, and Robyn watched from the bathroom door as she had to go fetch one of the boys from the opposite hall who knew the language. The boy translated what the girl wanted, which apparently included a place to sleep that wasn't infected with retarded boyfriends and parents that were . . . well, the words she used made Robyn hope she never had to meet this girl outside of the home. Clarice wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders and led her down the hall.
Robyn silently thanked the Latino for making her appearance at the right moment, then slipped out of the bathroom and towards the front doors. Her heart pounded as she got closer, than she was gripping the handle and pulling the door open. The night air was a bit cooler than she had anticipated when it touched her skin, but there was a degree of humidity that made it all right. Without a glance back, Robyn shut the door quietly and took off on a quick sprint down the sidewalk, staying close to the bushes on the left side and further away from the open grass to her right.
She eyed the street that the sidewalk emptied onto as it came closer, and her anxiety returned. She was almost there, and then she would turn right and head into that neighborhood across the street. Nice houses, she thought. Someone's got to have a shed in one of those backyards. Maybe a car for sale, if she looked hard enough. Maybe -
"Robyn!"
No! Desperate, Robyn didn't look back and burst into a full out run, making for the street ahead of her. She heard running steps behind her, but ignored them as she kept running for the road. The moment Robyn reached it and stepped off the curb, a car passed by and forced her to stop to keep from crashing into it. The car screeched to a stop, and Robyn paused, her startled eyes meeting those of the driver who almost hit her.
That precious few seconds cost her. When she was about to take off again, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back. The man in the car got out, and Robyn bit her lip against the tears of defeat swimming in her eyes.
"Miss, are you all right? Jesus, I nearly ran you over," the man half scolded, his pudgy face pale with worry.
"She's all right, sir, no harm done," Robyn heard Clarice assure him.
The man paused at the peculiar situation, the grip the woman had on the teenager's arm. "Everything all right here?" he asked, his tone tinged with suspicion.
"This is a home for runaways," Clarice told him reassuringly. "We discourage the younger teenagers who come here from leaving until they've had the proper care and guidance."
Robyn wanted to hit her. She really did. The man nodded in understanding, told Robyn to watch out for cars next time, then got in his car. She knew it was useless to run now - next time, Clarice might call the police, and wouldn't that be lovely? The girl seethed against Clarice's interference, and although rationally she knew the woman was just doing what she'd been told, the taste of defeat was still bitter.
An out of breath Clarice whirled her around, keeping a firm grip on her arm and looking severely annoyed. "I'm sorry, Robyn," she told her between breaths, "but you can't leave yet. Please! Don't fight this, we're looking out for your best interests."
"I can't stay here," Robyn told her tiredly. You wouldn't understand. "Not for a week."
"Why? What is it that you think is after you?"
Robyn gritted her teeth. Instead of answering, Robyn couldn't help but ask," How did you -" Clarice shook her head at the girl, effectively telling her that she wouldn't give an answer.
"Where would you go, Robyn?" Clarice asked quietly when they reached the doors and she pulled one open. Robyn glared at the woman out of the corner of her eye. I'm so tired of people telling me that, she thought irritably. When she wouldn't give an answer, Clarice sighed just as tiredly, and escorted her all the way back to her room..
She watched quietly as Robyn stepped in. "It's only a week, Robyn. You have nowhere else to go right now, and at least here you'll have everything you need. Just bear with me, all right? We'll keep you safe from whatever it is you're running from."
Robyn turned back and looked balefully into Clarice's earnest eyes. She knew the woman meant the best for her, but how could she know what she was running from? She couldn't protect her from what she was running from - no one could. Robyn nodded once to pacify Clarice, who smiled a little back, then bade her goodnight before shutting the door. She heard a strange noise come from the door and, suspicious, Robyn walked over to the door. Tried to turn it.
It was locked.
"Damn it!"