Free The Wicked We Have Done by Sarah Harian

trembling.
    Casey flips me over. I can’t see him—can’t see anything. We must be in a cave of some sort. Since we swam up from beneath, the only exit must be the same way. If we want to live, we’ll have to swim. And we have limited oxygen down here.
    I curl my hand into a fist and hit him as hard as I can in the chest. “You stupid fucking idiot.”
    There’s a long pause before he says, “
Excuse
me?”
    “What the
fuck
did you think you would gain by holding on to me? Your damn hero complex could have killed you!”
    “First of all, I didn’t die. Second, calm your shit. You wanna cause a cave-in with your petty yelling?” I make to punch him again, but he snatches my wrist. “Didn’t they teach you in prison that hitting isn’t nice?” he asks lowly. “And why do you care whether I die or not?”
    “I can’t watch you die,” I hiss.
    I try to relax and force my anger down. His fingers uncoil, but he doesn’t budge from his position over me. I can feel his body heat.
    “I don’t know why I held on to you. Probably shouldn’t have. If they want to kill you, then they will do it, I guess. Doesn’t matter if I try and save you or not.”
    I flinch, even though he can’t see it. “Even if you could potentially save me, I don’t see why you would. A few days ago you had me pinned to the wall by my neck—”
    “That doesn’t mean I want you dead.”
    “That’s not what I remember from the train.”
    He pauses, but only for a moment before he sputters, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
    “Why? Because back then you didn’t know you’d be stuck with me? Remember, Casey, I know your secret. I know that violence for the sake of violence makes you break. So don’t try to tell me that every fiber of your being doesn’t want to go Captain America on my ass.”
    “That’s not what I—”
    “Save it. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
    “Fine! Fine. I think—I think we might actually be at the opening of a tunnel here.”
    Even after insulting him, he still helps me to my feet. Slowly, I place one foot in front of the other, holding my hand out until my fingers connect with jagged rock. “Found a wall.” Keeping the rock to my left and Casey to my right, I mouth a prayer that there aren’t any fifty-foot pits, or this isn’t the lair of the thing that dragged us to the bottom of the lake.
    “Damn.”
    “What?”
    “This is probably the lair of the thing that dragged us to the bottom of the lake.”
    “Don’t be such a pessimist.” He can’t mask the fear in his voice.
    A loud click rings through the cavern.
    “The hell,” Casey says.
    The noise is so familiar. I freeze, waiting to see if it sounds again. A dull greenish glow floods the space we’re in, so faint that I don’t even recognize it as light until I can suddenly see Casey.
    I know what that noise is. I heard it the morning of my crime. It’s the noise of the switch being thrown for a set of powerful fluorescents, like those in a gymnasium. The kind of lights that cast an eerie weak glow before they heat up to full power.
    We stand in the middle of a long and tall chamber of stone. My gaze falls on the only thing within this place other than us. A school desk with a chunk taken out of the red plastic chair. A plywood tabletop, the wood texture torn on the corner.
    The desk Meghan sat in.
    Nick holding the chamber to her forehead. Blonde curls plastered in sweat. Tears.
    Gunshots spraying the air.
    “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” My heart trembles in tiny hummingbird beats.
    “Evalyn?”
    I spin toward him. “You have to find a way out. Now. Go back through the water, Casey.” A sob rises and there is no stopping it. I have to power through this.
This is your fate, Evalyn. What did you expect?
    In the cold mint light, his eyes widen. “What? Why?”
    Why do I care what he sees? It isn’t that he doesn’t deserve to be visually tortured. But something inside of me screams that he cannot be put through this.
    He