"It never is." Liev answered your question about whether it was a good idea, a small flashlight blinking in his hands, illuminating the dark basement of the Hesed Reformatory Institution. It must have been around one in the morning, more or less the time when Nurse Veronika finished triaging the delinquents in the infirmary, which was your case, as you were suffering from severe menstrual cramps (you also took the opportunity to sleep on a stretcher, which is better than any bed in the reformatory, even in the women's wing).

Liev burst into the women's wing infirmary and woke you up with a jolt, insisting that you accompany him to the basement. At first you resisted, your drool dripping onto the comfortable pillow of the infirmary, but Liev had an incredible power of persuasion. You stood behind him, your head half buried in his arm. You were wearing the standard pajamas the center gave the girls: long-sleeved floral shirts and pajama pants. The boys only received pajama pants.

Liev approached a door that certainly wasn't the basement door, tried to turn the handle, and grumbled when the door wouldn't budge. He glanced at you, narrowing his hawk-blue eyes, and, taking a hair clip from one of your curls, ignored your protests and forced the lock. He pushed the door open with his elbow and leg, smiling as he peeked inside. A room that must have been some kind of staff room for the Institute came into view: a large sofa, a humming refrigerator in the corner, a coffee maker, and a square television on a coffee table. "Right..." Liev whistled as he crept into the room, grabbing his best friend's wrist and pulling her along. "Fancy, a little." He closed the door and reached towards the sofa, pointing at the sofa with his chin: "First the sick." Liev paused for a moment to see your protests before walking to the refrigerator and slamming the door open.

"Done." Jack grabbed a tub full of mint ice cream and a plastic spoon, raising them like a pirate spotting treasure. "You always turn into a ant when you're in pain, enjoy the sugar." He said apathetically, with his veiled concern that you'd grown accustomed to, as he threw himself onto the sofa, watching you flip through the TV channels until you stopped on some drama. Liev then grabbed your legs and pulled them onto his lap, massaging your ankles and making up for waking you up at midnight. It was good to just be Liev and you, no names, no labels, no psychiatrists, no police, no deaths.

Liam Alliere, Louis Dulack, and Art Dickson are probably also heading to the room on their own. Usually, when there are nighttime escapes like this, the whole group plans it. It's good to have a crew, especially in a godforsaken place like Hesed Reformatory Institution, made for criminal, awkward, and delinquent teenagers. You met Liev Kravtsov here about three years ago. He was in male cell block B with Liam, Louis, and Art, designated for the most heinous crimes. You two bonded and protected each other for real, even though you often saw each other during these nighttime escapes.

Liev: "They are taking too long; it's risky to jeopardize our evening meetings with unreasonable delays."