Frowning, I pick up my phone to find a stream of messages from Mom and Jon.
Mom’s are expected.
Why aren’t you answering?
Hello? I can see you’re online.
Okay, now you’re offline.
I guess you don’t like my new dress then, haha!
You know, we can talk about something that isn’t you, Ruben.
Maybe next time you want to talk I’ll be too busy for you!
I get a familiar stab of fear in my gut, seeing these. My first instinct is to rapidly reply to calm her down before she gets really mad. But then I open the messages from Jon.
Are you watching this?
Angel’s livestreaming alone. He’s acting weird.
I think he’s high …
I’m going to check on him.
Are you coming?
Ruben?
Is Zach with you? Can you two come when you see this?
NOW?
Zach’s checking his own phone. I assume he’s reading a similar barrage of texts.
“Come on,” I say, getting to my feet.
“What do you think he said on the livestream?” Zach asks, following me.
“No idea, but it doesn’t sound good.”
I get another message. Not Jon. Mom.
I can see you’ve read my last message.
For once, something’s scaring me more than the threat of Mom’s wrath, though.
Sorry, not ignoring you. In the middle of something. Will explain when I’m free. Nothing to worry about.
We nod at tonight’s unfamiliar Chase guards as we pass them, exchanging tight smiles. Jon lets us in when we knock on Angel’s door. His expression is grave. “What took you so long?” he demands.
Inside, Angel is pacing back and forth. He’s visibly shaking, and he’s wringing his hands while he chews on something. It takes me a beat to realize he’s not eating anything at all. Just clenching his jaw, over and over.
“We have to get out of here,” he’s saying, half to himself. “Now. Tonight. It’s our last chance.”
“What do you mean?” Zach asks him.
Jon sighs. “He’s paranoid about Chorus.”
“You should be!” Angel yells at Jon. “They’ve brainwashed you. But just because they’ve wrapped you in their little web doesn’t mean they’re gonna get me. I’m not gonna let them. They aren’t gonna have me.”
“Angel,” I try. “How about we sit for a bit. Maybe you can tell us what you’re upset about.”
“All of it. I’m upset about … can’t you see?” he cries, still pacing. “They want to take everything away. They don’t want us to exist anymore. They’re murdering us. They’re going to kill us, until they only have our bodies left. That’s all they want from us. They don’t want … they won’t let us stay alive. We have to go. Tonight. It’s them or us. I’m choosing me. They aren’t gonna have me.”
“Where are we gonna go?” Zach asks.
That’s when Angel pivots, yanks the balcony door open, and darts out.
“Angel!” Zach cries as we race after him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not gonna let them take me. They can’t have me,” Angel keeps repeating in a trembling voice. Then he climbs onto the balcony ledge, and everything inside me jolts like I’ve slammed into a wall.
“Angel, don’t!” Zach screams, and Jon starts whispering no, no, no, under his breath in a frantic litany.
None of us make any sudden moves, though. We don’t dare. You don’t rush at a suicidal person when they’re about to jump. I expect to hear screams of terror echoing from the streets below, but then I remember our rooms face the hotel grounds rather than the main road.
No one will see.
“I’m fine,” Angel says, looking directly down. Not at the grounds, but at the balcony below him.
That’s when I realize he’s not jumping.
He’s escaping.
Angel lowers himself slowly, hands clenched on the bars. The wind whips his black hair around his face, making him look wilder still. He wedges his feet in the gaps between the bars on the balcony. Then he smiles at us.
Jon reacts first. “Come back up,” he says, extending a hand. “We can … hey, how about we all bring some drinks over? We can have a party. Just us.”
Angel bends his knees. Jon strides forward.
“Stop,” Angel barks.
Jon stops. “You can get me drunk?” he tries. “How about we find out how many shots it takes to get me to … to … Angel, please, please.”