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the furniture get covered in icing .
    When we are done, my father announces that he has to go back to work, and he lets me hug him before he goes, leaving a trail of brown icing on his white shirt .

DEADLINE: 31D, 22H, 59M
    THE BURROWS
    MY SHIRT USED TO BE A DIFFERENT COLOR . Cleaner, brighter, not as smudged.
    Maybe the darkness of the Burrows is rubbing off on me. Tainting me.

DEADLINE: 31D, 19H, 10M
    THE BURROWS
    THEY’RE TRYING TO SUFFOCATE ME . These Burrows seem to go on and on, never getting smaller or shorter, only thinner and closer together.

DEADLINE: 31D, 17H, 23M
    THE BURROWS
    WHAT WOULD MY MOTHER SAY if she knew I was here? Everything would’ve been different. My father would be normal. She would’ve sung songs to me instead of Sara. I wouldn’t be branded to Thorne. And I wouldn’t be here.
    I’d be home, and it’d be all I needed. She’d be there, instead of dead.

DEADLINE: 31D, 16H, 15M
    THE BURROWS
    THERE’S A FIGURE UP AHEAD that I recognize. My heart beats faster, and I imagine that it’s Thorne. That he’s waiting for me. He’s right there, holding out his hand, talking to me. I just have to reach him.
    “We’re getting closer,” Bayard says.
    Closer.
    I look forward again, and there’s nothing there.

DEADLINE: 31D, 15H, 42M
    THE BURROWS
    “WHAT’S THE REASON YOU’RE DOING THIS?” Bayard asks me. We’ve finally stopped to rest and eat, and my body is thankful for it.
    “What do you mean?” I ask, studying his face while he chews.
    “I’m not supposed to ask you questions, and I reckon it’s none of my business. But you’re pretty near the same age as my daughter, and if she was traipsing through the Burrows and in the Old World, well…” He looks down at the ground and then back at me. “I’d want to know everything I could as to why she was being so foolish.”
    “You think it’s foolish?”
    His eyes don’t leave mine. “Depends on the reason.”
    I look away from his gaze, the warmth in the darkness of his eyes and the flickering torch too much for me to handle. I want nothing more than to tell him everything. No one except Xenith knows what I’m doing. No one except the two of us-and Kai-even know I’m alive. I should tell my story, right? I should share and let the people who matter know what I’m doing, so if I die…
    “You don’t have to tell me,” Bayard says with a heavy sigh. “I get that it’s important.”
    I shake my head. Of all the people I’ve met, I’m surprised myself, but I think I can tell Bayard. He’d understand it.
    “You don’t know what it was like in the Compound,” I say. “It was perfect. I mean, perfect . And then one day, I looked around and I saw the deception. I didn’t want to see it, and I tried to ignore it but-”
    “But you can’t unsee something.”
    Neither of us speaks for a moment, and Bayard’s eyes darken. What has he seen in his life? “The Elders are evil. Everyone’s being lied to, and I want to help them.”
    Bayard is quiet. “So you left to get help?”
    I shrug. The only thing I can say is that I’m leaving for everyone there. It makes me feel less selfish. Because when I think about why I left, I know the reason is more than that. I’ll never be able to wipe away what the director-what my own father-did to Thorne. I’ll never stop feeling the pain, never undo his screams, and never stop wondering why. Why me. Why us. Why everyone.
    “I shouldn’t talk about it. I don’t want to put anyone at risk,” I say.
    There’s the fact that they experiment on their own people, want to control and change their own people. This plan they have to move them, change them. There’s the fact that they wanted to use me for something, and that everything I know about my whole life isn’t real. Maybe even Thorne and me.
    That’s the part that feels the most desperate. I have to know if we’re real or manufactured-if our feelings, our love, is theirs or ours.
    Bayard looks at me, his eyebrows furrowed