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Jade has been plotting her prison break for years now, her escape a culmination of broken bones and backbreaking training. She wakes up one day passed out on the floor of a sparring room, bruises littered up and down her arms and realizes that she can’t do this anymore. That she’s fed up with all the rules and lessons and most of all him. She’s 17 and seventeen years under his careful thumb is more than enough to teach her how to survive in the world.
She pulls a dusty duffel off her shelf and piles what little she owns into it. A battered copy of Alice in Wonderland, two changes of clothes, the wad of cash she’s saved up by skimming off the top of her father’s missions, a first-aid kit, and a crooked drawing of the two of them that Artemis had brought home from Kindergarten. She doubts her sister remembers making it at all and Jade is careful to keep it out of sight, moving it from the false bottom of her drawer to the corner of her duffle. It’s strange to see it all when she’s done–her entire life packed neatly into a mere two feet.
Artemis watches her from the opposite twin bed, her precious teddy bear clutched tight to her chest. (She should get rid of it. It’ll only hinder in the future–their father will most likely keep it pinned on the other side of the room during an exercise, have her kill a couple of people in the way in order to get it back.) Artemis knows what she’s doing because she’s no fool. Neither of them would have lasted long in this hellhole if they were. It takes wits to survive a monster.
“Dad’ll come after you,” she says quietly and there’s no threat in her voice, only raw, childish concern. (That’s another thing she should get rid of. Their father will sharpen that care into a blade and turn it around to pierce her own heart.)
Jade almost hopes he’ll come after her. It’ll give her a legitimate reason to put a blade between his eyes for good. (She’d do it now if she thought she could get away with it. But there’s too much of a risk of failure and if she shows her cards now, he’ll only tighten the noose, make sure she’s tied to him for life.)
“Let him,” she says airily and walks off to grab her toothbrush, staring at the floor. If she looks at her, she’ll crack. If she sees the disappointment or fear etched into her eyes, she’ll cave. And Jade can’t afford to stay any longer. She’s already been shattered to pieces and she can’t afford to stay until she’s irreparable. At least, this way she has a chance of picking up the pieces. She can’t stay, not even for the person she loves most in the world.
Leaving Artemis behind had been the hardest decision she’s ever made. It’s one thing when their father’s attention is split between the two of them, Jade able to fumble in order to purposefully bait his anger. If he hits her, he won’t hit Artemis, his fists too bruised by then to dish out a proper beating. They each get half of his time, half of his attention, half of his anger.
But leaving Artemis behind is leaving her at the complete mercy of a monster. Jade wishes she could take her with her but the reality is they would be too slow. She can make one person disappear but she can’t make two, the paper trail too hard to hide. And Artemis may be able to kill a man in her sleep, but she’s still a child. Jade has spent too much time flitting in between the roles of sister and mother to know that she’s not fit for either. She’s got her hands full taking care of herself.
Jade walks back into their room and throws the toothbrush inside, zipping her bag closed. Artemis is still watching her, little feet knocking against her bedframe.
I’ll come back for you, she thinks but doesn’t say. Someday, when we’re both old enough to get away from here. To go somewhere far, far away where he’ll never be able to find us.
She doesn’t know if she’ll ever find the strength to make good on her word but she has to believe, she has to dream. Still, it wouldn’t do to give Artemis false hope so she keeps her mouth clamped shut and her gaze averted as she tucks her baseball cap over her eyes.
Neither of them bother with goodbyes as she walks out of the room quickly and quietly, like the Cheshire Cat.
(And by the time she’s finally strong enough to return to the nest, she finds that her baby sister’s already sprouted wings of her own and flown away.)