Free Into the Abyss by Stefanie Gaither Page B

don’t feel like I could ever completely belong to either side. Did she think about that while she watched the shell of the old Violet sleep, all those monthsago? Did she consider it at all before she decided to wake me up?
    That should be the first thing I ask her, I decide, out of all the questions spilling their way into my thoughts.
    But before I can settle on exactly how to phrase this question, President Cross stands and pushes her chair in.
    â€œWait a minute,” I say, getting to my feet as well. “I need to ask you some things.”
    â€œAnd I need sleep, unfortunately. You know the way out—and do me a favor, will you, and have the decency to look like you’ve received a proper scolding in here. It probably won’t be enough to pacify the members you’ve upset, but we might as well make the effort. Right?”
    I haven’t made any movement toward the exit. “I have questions,” I say, more firmly this time. She gives me the same cold, placeholder smile she used earlier, and then turns and disappears through a door on the far back wall, one that I’m fairly certain leads to her own private quarters.
    No one follows her.
    My escort clears his throat. “Curiosity killed the clone anyway, right?” he says, giving me a pointed shove toward the door I first entered through. I recoil from his touch and throw a wild glare his way, no longer caring whether I frighten him or not.
    He lets me walk myself out.
    The security door clicks behind me. I stand for a moment in the low-lit vestibule on the other side of it, thinking. I already have two messages in my communicator—bothfrom Catelyn; one wants to know how the meeting is going, the other suggests that just the two of us get together in her room afterward and talk. But there isn’t much to talk about, is there? None of my questions have been answered—they weren’t even asked.
    Nothing about tonight, nothing about me, makes any more sense than it did before.
    What should I have done? If I had tried to stop the president from walking away, things might have turned violent, and it wouldn’t have been a fight that ended well for me. It will never end well for me, as long as she is surrounded by bodyguards and personal aides—most of whom are eager for an excuse to take a swing at me anyway. And then I will only have proven all of the president’s detractors right and made the division among the members here that much greater.
    Do I care, though?
    Should I care?
    I lean against the wall, clenching my fists. My eyes lift upward, searching. Just as Emily’s did earlier.
    The only difference is that mine actually find a possible solution.
    Or a hiding place, to be exact.
    On each of the walls left and right of the door to outside, there are knockouts that look like they’re intended for storage. They are high—the bottom at least seven feet above me—and reach to the ceiling. I can’t tell from where I am how far back they go. But if it’s deep enough for me to fit inside, then the chances of anyone walking by andactually noticing I’m up there will be slim. And as far as I know, there are only two people I have to count on not noticing me.
    Even as the plan is unfolding in my mind, I realize how crazy it is. All of the painfully bad ways that it could end. I can already see that disappointed look Catelyn does so well, her frown falling deeper as I try to explain what I was thinking, attempting this.
    I press my ear against the security door behind me, listening. And suddenly I am out of time to think my plan through, because I hear two sets of footsteps approaching from the other side. I look to my left, determine the angle quickly, and hit the wall with as much speed as I can gather in the small space. My reflexes do the rest, legs bending and then pushing off with enough force to propel me across to the storage space on the other side. With no time to calculate a more