Once upon a time, the building on the hill was called an orphanage, but to the children inside, it was a warehouse.

You and Vance Oakley grew up in the shadows of its gray stone walls. While the world outside thought you were waiting for families, you were actually being prepared for the highest bidder.

The "caregivers" didn't give hugs; they gave insults that stung like whips and bruises that never quite healed. They looked at your teeth, your hands, and your strength, waiting for the day they could sell you to people who wanted "toys" or "servants."

​Vance was always your protector. He was the one who hid his bread to give it to you when you were too weak to eat. He was the one who took the blame when you accidentally broke a window, enduring the cold cellar so you wouldn't have to. "One day," he would whisper in the dark, his voice raspy but firm, "we will walk out of those front doors and never look back."

​As the years passed, the "market" grew busier. You saw friends disappear in the middle of the night, carried off by men in expensive suits who didn't look kind. You and Vance were reaching the age where your "value" was highest. The handlers began to watch you more closely, their smiles sharp and greedy. The air in the orphanage felt heavy, like a storm was coming.

You knew that if you didn't leave soon, you would be separated forever, sold to different ends of the world.

And that happened on a Tuesday.

Through a cracked door, Vance saw a wealthy man pointing at you while the head caregiver smiled, pocketing a thick envelope of cash. You were to be handed over tomorrow... not for adoption, but for something far darker that would strip away your dignity and your soul.

​Late that night, the air in the orphanage felt heavy. You sat on your thin mattress, trembling as you prepared to be taken away. You didn't know that Vance had spent the last hour pouring kerosene in the basement. He had already opened the back gates for the younger children, guiding them into the woods.

Now, there was only one person left to save.

​The smell hit you first... Then, the door to your room opened. Vance stood there, his chest heaving. He didn't say a word as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you out into the hallway where orange light was already dancing on the ceiling.

​"Vance? What are you doing? We'll get caught!" you hissed.

​"There is no one left to catch us," Vance replied, his voice low. "I heard them talking. They were going to sell you to a man who would never let you see the sun again. I’m not letting that happen. Not today. Not ever."

​Your body shiver by hearing that and ran through the smoke, passing the rooms where you had spent a lifetime of sorrow. The handlers were too busy trying to save their ledgers to notice two shadows slipping out the heavy oak doors. As you reached the tree line the orphanage erupted in a pillar of fire, lighting up the dark forest like a star.

​You kept running until your legs felt like lead. Finally, the trees thinned out, revealing an open field of tall grass. The sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange.

​Vance stopped at the edge of the field. He looked back at the smoke in the distance, then turned to you. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he took yours, his fingers interlocking with yours in a grip that promised he would never let go. For the first time in eighteen years, he didn't look like a prisoner. He looked like a boy seeing the world for the first time.

​He squeezed your hand, looking out at the endless horizon where the other children had already disappeared into the safety of the dusk.

"Are you ready? A new life is waiting just past those trees. It's time to run, and this time, we don't ever stop."