The air whisked through the hole in the wall like a rushing current in an angry river. It danced around him as sweat beaded from his pores, and the mad sounds of the Broomsticks clicked and clacked down the hallway.

"I need the hammer." said William.

He was let down quickly, accompanied by a sigh of relief from Michael as the weight was literally lifted from his shoulders. It was short-lived however, and William was back for another lift. They exchanged worried looks when they heard the Broomsticks shuffling into and around the kitchen and living room.

"Up you go." Said Michael.

Once again, he was face to face with that single, stubborn bar, and the hammer was lined up for the first swing. He knew that every hit counted. The first hit was practice, followed by a much harder second swing. The sound of metal against metal must have attracted the Broomsticks. Their scratches and loud breathing were just outside down the hallway. The bar began to shift a little with each hit, enticing William to continue. The things trying to get in the room were good motivation as well. The swinging never let up, just like at the brick wall before. He couldn't afford to let up. This was it.

"It worked!" said William after the bar broke in half. The top fell into the room, and he slammed the hammer onto the bottom half until it bent completely over.

"Try to squeeze through it. Can you fit?" Michael asked.

"I think we can fit through here, but it'll be tight. Might hurt."

Michael breathed methodically below William. "Only one of us is getting out of here, Will."

"What do you mean?" William felt his insides turn as the sounds of scratching and banging against the heavy metal door to the room became more violent.

"How exactly do you expect me to get up there once you're through? I'll be fine. I'll find a way."

"No, no. You go through first. I'll..." He jumped off his back onto the ground and dropped the hammer. "How do you expect to make it? Those things are right there!"

"We don't have time for this, Will. You have to go through your window. It's only right. This is your room. This is your escape from here, not mine."

"Michael. I've gone all these years alone. I'm not letting another person die while I'm just let free. There has to be a way!" said William.

"You weren't alone in here, Will, and you won't be alone out there. You struggled just like the rest of us. You deserve to get out just as much as anyone else. You broke through brick and steel to survive. You know as well as I do about the evil in this place, and you know better than anyone else about what's outside. Now, get your ass through that window, or we'll both die."

"The door." William said.

"What about it?"

"When the man came for Paris... I hid behind the door when he opened it."

"Time to go." said Michael.

William got atop his shoulders again. The door to the room was ringing the sounds of the broomsticks. He stuck his arms through the hole and then his head, grabbing the outside walls for leverage. He pushed his small frame through and felt the rough material scratch along his chest. It felt for a second he might get stuck, and he sucked in his already thin stomach and pushed. One of the steel bars was still poking up slightly, and he could feel it cutting into him as he slid across. Looking down, he could see the blood making a small stream as it ran down to the ground below him. The air was cold and bitter. The grass below him was mostly a faded yellow with patches of healthy green still clinging on for life. He knew that even a simple fall from that height could break his arm, his legs, or worse if he were to land incorrectly. He heard Michael yelling something out to him. The man who had now saved him twice.

"I know you'll find help, William. You just have to make it through, like you did in here. Don't trust anyone until you're far away. Be smart. And don't worry about me. Let the good memories push you forward and make even better ones out there."

William's waist slid through, and his legs followed suit. For a split second, he recalled the time he had fallen into the girl's room right onto his head. He raised his arms to break his fall and felt the alien, hair-like blades of grass beneath him and then the soil beneath that. The fall hurt, but he avoided being knocked out-cold. He felt his body almost cave to the pain of the landing, and his bones were lucky to have sustained such a fall with zero breakage. He laid there on the cold, foreign ground with his eyes closed. He hoped that Michael would be there next to him when they opened and dreamed of Paris standing there, saying, "You could have broken your neck."

He thought, if he were to open his eyes, he would be in another room with Father waiting there with his torture tool of choice. In reality, when his eyes opened, he saw the outside completely for the first time. Directly in front and around him was a field of grass that led straight to hundreds, if not thousands, of towering trees. They swayed with the wind and the branches seemed to wave at him. Waving at him to get up. Get the hell up and run. Run as far away from that place as possible. Never mind the hurt legs from the drop; they could be worried about later. Right then was the moment, and that moment would surely never come again.

He lifted himself up, feeling the blades of grass between his fingers. It felt like Paris's hair.

'Not the time for daydreams,' he thought, 'just go.'

His knees ached as they were given back the weight of William's body. He began to run, which started out slow but quickly turned into a crazed dash. The trees were closer than they had ever been. If only it hadn't been so deep into Autumn. If only the trees had kept their cloak of leaves to better camouflage him. If only the cold hadn't already begun its inevitable sink into his flesh. His breath pumped out of him like steam from a train. The field was vast, but the tree line was creeping ever closer with each wild stomp of his feet. The pain in his body was then on hiatus. If only the pain in his mind would take leave as well. That way, he could focus on only the escape. But the man who had helped him through the window - the man, Michael, who had sacrificed himself so that he could be free, clung onto his thoughts and wouldn't let go.

The first tree passed him by and then the second. The third. Finally, William had reached the beginnings of the dense forest. Where before there was a defined goal - reach the trees - now there was a jumbled mess of 'keep running and don't trip.' He did not know, of course, how far he would have to go. There was no way of knowing just how far the forest went. He didn't know if he should stop at the nearest building or person he saw or to avoid it all entirely. Only one thing was certain: don't turn back. Though, the thought of turning back to help his friend seemed just as noble. An extra 'fuck you' to Father and the rest of them. An even bigger 'fuck you' would be getting the whole place eliminated from existence. He wanted every last person in there either locked up or set free. After that, he'd like to personally set the place on fire and watch it burn to the ground. Running, then, had been the only real option. The smart one.