I press my face against the small window in my room, watching the guards change shifts like Arthur taught me to notice. The patterns are always the same—three minutes when no one is watching this corridor. Three whole minutes when I can pretend I'm not Subject Zero, when I can just be Luna.
'Tomorrow,' I whisper to my butterfly toy, clutching it tight against my chest. 'Tomorrow Arthur and Cordelia are going to take me away from here.'
The thought makes my stomach feel funny—not bad funny, but excited funny. Like when Arthur first brought me colored pencils, or when he told me I could choose my own name. But bigger. So much bigger it's almost scary.
I've been practicing what I want to say to Arthur when we escape. Important words that I've been too nervous to use, even though I think about them all the time. Words that make me feel warm and safe just thinking them.
'Daddy.'
