I let a few minutes of silence pass, gathering the courage to speak. I want to be able to admit to the terrible things I've done without trying to justify them, because Muriel Two deserves more than an excuse. She deserves an apology, even if she's not around to hear it.

"Reece, I–"

"There's something I need to tell you," Reece says, his words almost buried by the rustling of leaves, "and you're not going to like it."

I meet his gaze, surprised to find it laced with guilt. "What is it?"

He steps forward, taking my arm in his hand. The heat from his fingers sends warmth up my skin and I inhale slightly, allowing him to pull me closer. "I lied to you when I said there was nothing we could do to help Asia and Jewel."

"What are you talking about?"

His red, bleary eyes refuse to meet my own. "We have what's called the police here. People who are supposed to protect us, and if I'd just gone to them in the first place instead of breaking you out, they might have been able to save all of you before Marine World could cover anything up."

A familiar lump lodges itself in my throat. "Then why didn't you? Why would you make me leave them behind?"

Reece is silent for an excruciating minute. "Because I was scared," he says. "Because I knew if I went to the police, my dad and I would be arrested, too. Probably thrown into prison for life." He lets me go, running a hand down his face before looking into the distance. "I'm the reason they're still stuck in Marine World."

I shake my head, desperately trying to hold back the tears. It seems I'm not the only one who's been struggling with guilt, and a part of me feels betrayed that Reece kept this from me. A bigger part doesn't blame him for choosing his freedom over Asia's and Jewel's; I did the exact same thing. "You're not the reason they're still stuck in Marine World," I say, looking away. "I am."

"Aura–"

"You didn't tell me about the police because you wanted to save yourself. The same reason I was so quick to leave the girls behind in the first place." I force myself to look at him, knowing I can't possibly hate him for doing the same thing I did. "When you told me there was nothing we could do for them I just accepted it, because deep down, I still wanted to escape even if they couldn't. I chose my own freedom over the people I love, and I've been regretting it ever since."

Reece looks away, his face crisscrossed with a mix of emotions–none of which I'm able to identify. "It's not too late for me to turn myself in," he says. "Marine World won't be expecting it, not when they've got my dad in their grasp."

Tears burn my eyes when I remember what he told me about being prosecuted, and I know I can't ask him to sacrifice his freedom for ours. "No," I say. "You don't deserve to be punished with the rest of them, Reece. We can come up with another way to get them out. We have to."

My trail of tears must ignite something within him, because he closes the remaining distance between us, pulling me into his arms. We slot together, like each of us has been carved to fit the other. From the way he is clutching me, I can tell he needs this as much as I do. It is starting to dawn on us that no matter how long we run for or how far we get, Marine World will never stop hunting us.

Reece relinquishes his grip on my waist, not speaking a word as he crosses the distance back to the car. I stand frozen for a second, the cold night air filling the space his body used to be, leaving me still. Then I make my way to the car and we're back to driving in silence.

At one point in our journey, I glance at Reece as he stares ahead, able to see the effects of our lack of sleep on his skin. His pale eyes are red, his cheeks rimmed with shadows. He might be the type to keep his suffering to himself, but he can't hide the toll that running is taking on his body. He can't hide what helping me is doing to him.

My pursuit for freedom is sucking the life from him, forcing him to give up his own freedom and health in a bid to preserve mine. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. If I wasn't so selfish, I would have done a better job in Marine World at convincing him I could escape alone, that I didn't need his help. But back then, self-preservation took precedence over all else, and Reece's life meant nothing in comparison to my own. Now it is hard to see where his freedom ends and mine begins.

I pinch the narrow bridge of my nose, trying to subside my pounding headache. There's a small voice in my mind trying to convince me not to help the others. It's a voice I've come to resent long before now, a voice I'd never listen to, but the fact the thought has crossed my mind fills me with shame.

"Are you okay?" Reece asks.

"Just a headache," I say, closing my eyes. "You'd think they would have made us so that we don't feel pain."

It is something I've always been curious about, why Marine World or the scientists or whoever it was that made us, allowed us to feel pain. They were able to control what we looked like, how long we can hold our breath for or how much food we can fit in our stomachs, so why couldn't they stop us from hurting? From suffering?

"Pain is power," Reece says, flexing his calloused hands around the steering wheel. "If you can't feel pain, you can't be controlled."

I think back to the times Marine World used to deprive us of food, realizing he's right. If they couldn't make us suffer somehow, they couldn't make us do whatever they wanted.

"Why would you want to turn yourself in?" I ask, clasping my fingers together. "Why would you risk your freedom so we could have ours? You hardly even know us."

There is such a long silence I begin to think he's not going to respond, but when I open my mouth, he is already beating me to it. "Because it's the right thing to do," he says, refusing to look at me, "and because I'm as guilty as the rest of them."

A familiar flicker ignites in my stomach. I turn to face him, taking in the exhaustion lining his features. "You're nothing like them, Reece."

"I knew genetically engineered humans were being exploited and I did nothing to stop it," he says. "Hardly the act of a hero."

My eyes trace the dark shadow gracing his jaw. "You got me out of Marine World even though it meant giving up your life. Hardly the act of a villain." When Reece doesn't respond, I let out a sigh. "It doesn't matter how long it took you to help us. All that matters is that you did. You helped us when no one else would, Reece."

He ignores me, but I watch him clutch the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning a garish white. I know my words have affected him somewhat, that behind his controlled expression, he's wondering if what I'm saying is true.

"Why did you lie to me about Muriel not wanting to come?" he asks.

Now it is my turn to tense, her name bringing back all sorts of emotions I've been trying to suppress. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to help me anymore," I say. "She was attacking me, trying to stop me from leaving, and I–" I stop, fixing my gaze toward the window. "I'm sorry."

I sit tensely in my seat, waiting for Reece to tell me what an awful person I am, that he's been right about me being dangerous all along.

"No more lies," he says, his eyes fixed on the road.

"No more lies," I repeat. "You know, we should probably stop somewhere to sleep. You look exhausted."

"We will," he says tiredly, "but first we need a new car."