In a flash he was gone, tearing down the narrow hallway past the bedrooms.
“Daniel!” she cried, breaking into a run. “Daniel, please! Wait!”
It was no use. With a groan of tired wood, he pushed through the door at the end of the hall. Bookshelves rose up beyond, outlining his path. Jean accelerated after him, flying faster than she’d ran in years.
She slammed into the doorway hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. It stuck in the jam, refusing to open. She kicked the frame. “Stop that!” One more slam and it came open. She burst through into the library beyond, already gasping for breath. The bookshelves loomed closer and closer.
And Daniel was gone.
Jean spun in place, forcing herself to slow down. Her chest burned, and her lungs ached for air, but she held her breath stubbornly. For a second, there was only the sound of blood rushing through her ears.
There. Faintly, the stomp of tiny, running feet echoed down the aisle in front of her. She took off again. “Wait!”
* * * * *
Daniel was done waiting. He ran, pushing himself faster and faster until the bookshelves were just a blur on either side of him. He wanted to go home - and she was trying to keep him here. The bedroom he’d woken up in had a door, leading out to a garden. There would be another. He just needed to find a way to get outside, and he’d be safe. He knew it.
Daniel ran with every fiber of his being fixated on that thought, that singular goal. Rooms flew past him. He passed from airy, spacious rooms into tight, claustrophobic cloisters that teemed with hastily stacked books. A light went on in his head. He grabbed at the stacks as they passed, kicking and pulling at any of the piles that came within arms reach. Anything was fair game as long as it bought him time. There was no conscious thought behind it. He was operating purely on instinct by then, fleeing in a primal panic.
He was a long way from home. The realization finally sank in. Exactly how far away it was, he didn’t know. And worst of all was the horrible, sinking fear that he didn’t know how to get back.
But ahead of him, the hallway changed. Gone were the narrow, dark hallways through rows of books. A pair of crystal-clear doors lay beyond the next room - and the openness was unmistakable. He’d made it. Almost.
“Daniel!” he heard Jean scream from behind him. “You have to stop!”
She was right on top of him. His heart hammered in his ears. Her lies had vanished, leaving behind what sounded like actual, honest fear. But he’d already reached the door, pushing through before doubt took hold.
The hardwood floors he’d been following disappeared, replaced by cold concrete. It was a greenhouse, he saw, lined with pots bearing herbs and fruit.
Daniel hurled those down, too, smiling at the satisfying crashes that followed in his wake. Her screams faded into pained cries, nearly drowned out by the noise of pottery shattering.
And there - in front of him lay a set of double-wide doors, with the blue sky of the courtyard beyond showing through the windows. His heart leapt. Escape was right in front of him.
“You can’t do this! Stop him!” Jean cried from the greenhouse behind. Her voice choked, catching on some strange, mysterious emotion. Too late. He threw an arm out, grabbing the handle.
But when Daniel hit the doors, twisting hard, they held. The handle didn’t move underneath him. The doors didn’t budge. He hit them with his shoulder, but they held. In desperation, he punched at the glass, but his fist rebounded with a hollow ringing. He stared at the windows for a moment, caught in utter, complete disbelief.
Jean tumbled to a stop behind him, panting and gasping for air. Daniel spun, gathering himself for another run. He’d cut back across the row of plants. He was so close. He’d find another door, and-
“Wait. Please,” Jean whispered. She held a trembling, pale hand up. Daniel froze. He shouldn’t be standing around. He should take his chance and run, he knew.
But he waited. Something about the slump of her shoulders said she was done. A trail of bloody footsteps traced out the path she’d taken through the greenhouse. She’d cut herself on the broken pots, then. He lifted his chin, pressing himself back against the door. He wasn’t sorry.
Jean lifted her head far enough to fix her gaze on him. It burned with an odd intensity, both horrified and fearful. “P-Please. Please don’t run. I’ll send you home. I will. I promise.”
His mom always said to keep your promises. He shifted from foot to foot. “You promise?”
She nodded, still locking eyes with him. “I promise, Daniel.” With one last sigh she straightened, pressing one hand tight against her chest like she was in pain. “Please. You’ve been running for so long, and my feet are bleeding. Just...let me get you something to drink. You can rest, I’ll clean myself up, and then I’ll take you home.” Her eyes tightened, growing more worried with every second he didn’t reply. “Does that sound okay?”
“...I guess,” he mumbled, nodding unhappily.
She waited another long moment, her lips pressed together into a thin line. “Let’s head back, then,” she whispered. The start of a tiny, sad smile curled at her lips. “I think you’ll find a shortcut through the greenhouse.”
He walked past her, shoulders
