I reach for the noise, and my fingers find what seems like the hem of a pair of oversized jeans. I grab them and brace myself as they pull me slightly forward.

The movement stops mid-fall.

“Ha. I found the stairs.” Fuzz chuckles as he regains his footing.

I move my other hand in his direction until it finds his skinny chest, then I trail it over the side of his arm to find his hand again. Only when I feel his hand grip mine in return, I release his trousers with my other hand. “Don’t let go again. You see what happens.” I scold him.

“Yes mom.” He chuckles, as he starts making his way down the stairs. They creak ominously, and I’m enormously glad of our connection when Fuzz suddenly drops a few centimeters after what seems like a step breaking.

“You okay?” I say, pulling him back up towards me.

“Yeah… Ow, yeah I’m good.” He tells me, then starts laughing. “Lost a shoe though.”

“Dude, sit. You can’t walk around here without a shoe. You have no idea what’s on the floor.” I say sternly.

To my complete surprise Fuzz instantly sits down. Giggling still, but obedient. I squat down beside him, and try and feel my way around to find the shoe. Why the fuck didn’t I bring my phone?

My hand finds a leg, a socked foot, a hand that’s rummaging around as well. Then a shoe.

“Got it.” I say, and I twist and turn the sneaker to salvage it from the wreckage. I hand it over to the other boy and he pulls it lazily back onto his feet.

“You saved my shoe!” He chuckles happily.

“Yeah. Now please be careful.” Damn, this is like babysitting a five-year-old.

We finally make it down the stairs in one piece and start scanning for a way outside. We find the front door first, but it’s bolted shut. That doesn’t matter, because there should be an entrance at the loading dock, which was the one we were sent to open anyway.

I drag Fuzz in the direction I think is the right one. Not that I should trust my sense of direction, but I damn well trust my capabilities better than Fuzz’.

Which makes my denial of his observation earlier all the more hypocritical.

We manage to find our target: the shutter that’s supposed to be connecting the building to the loading dock. It’s got metal rails on the outside, so you can’t open it with a crowbar from there, but from the inside...

Wait.

“Did you bring the crowbar?” I ask, knowing full well I’d have noticed him bring it if he did.

“Oh right! Um, yeah.” Fuzz says, to my surprise. “Josh chucked it inside after they opened the window so..."

"It’s still upstairs.” I finish his sentence with a grunt.

“Yeah. Should I go and get it?”

I sigh. The answer is: yes, but we should go together, because you’ll kill yourself as soon as I let go of your hand. But I really don’t want to navigate us all the way back through the dark.

“No. Stay here. Place your hands on the shutter. I’m going to do something, and if it works only a little bit, you need to push the thing up.” I say.

Fuzz immediately starts banging the thing. “Doesn’t budge.” He remarks.

“Wait for it, Fuzz.” I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see.

I inch my way to the side of the shutter, until I reach the edge. Then I trail my hands over the wall to find the mechanism controlling it. Just because the power should be off, that doesn’t automatically mean it is. Maybe there’s a little stored in there, or does it have some sort of failsafe for a power outage. If this works, it’s clearly the easiest fix, and it would also save us from another trip of doom.

I press a button, and to my complete surprise, a mechanism starts whirring.

“Now! Push up!” I tell my companion, but nothing really happens, so I stop. Maybe this was the down-button. It’s not like I can see if there’s an up or down arrow on them.

“Wait. Stop. I’ll try something else.”

I fumble and find another button. “Ready?”

“Push up again?” Fuzz asks me, clearly clueless of what I’m trying to achieve here.

I push the second button and hear another whirring sound. “Yeah, now.” I say.

The mechanism starts clinking, but there’s a sliver of light appearing underneath the shutter.

“I can’t hold it!” Fuzz yells.

“Put your shoe underneath!” I tell him, afraid that it’ll fall back into place as Fuzz releases his grip.

Turn out I’m right, but now he dropped the whole shutter on his foot. “OW FUCK!” He screams out. I run over to him and start pulling the thing up with my fingers. Now there’s a little room underneath, I can use that to get a grip.

“You pull too. But don’t drop it, or the whole thing will fall on our fingers.” I say.

Fuzz does as I ask. And we jointly push the thing up, until we’re halfway outside. The weight is still bearing on us, but it’s less heavy from this position. Then again: we can’t hold it up forever.

With the light now coming in through the half-opened shutter, I can scan the place and find some pallets lying around. I direct Fuzz to hold the shutter on his shoulders as go and grab them. I put the pallets in the doorway on their sides, on both sides of the shutter, put a shack of three in the middle just in case, and then help Fuzz to lower the thing on its brand-new scaffolding.

The doorway is now one meter high, but it’s big enough for everyone to fit through without risking being cut in half.

“Why did you put the pallets in the middle?” Fuzz asks, looking at the pile standing there uselessly.

“Failsafe. If the ones on the side fall over or break for some reason, the shutter will fall down onto those.” I explain.

“Shit, that’s brilliant. See? I’d never have thought of that.” He replies matter-of-factly.

“If you sat through history lessons instead of skipping, you’d have known about the French revolution, and thought it up yourself.” I say.

“Viva la resistance!” the blonde boy yells in reply, before tackling me to the floor. I hit the concrete hard and just manage to keep my head from bumping into it, but Fuzz is just laughing.

“Pile-up!” He shouts, which sends me laughing too, forgetting about my bruised back.

“Dude, there’s no one here to make a pile.” I chuckle.

“I’m a one-man pile!” He yells, victoriously straddling me.

I can’t let that one pass. So I flip him off me and sit on his chest instead, my knees pinning his bony arms to the floor. “You’re a one-man mess.” I say, looking down at him.

“Well, yeah.” He concedes.

I get off him and offer a hand to help him up. He takes it and pulls himself up. We both take a moment to study the open shutter and appreciate our accomplishment.

“We did it.” I say proudly, upon which Fuzz gives me a high five.

We jointly dive through the opening under the shutter, heading out to find the rest of the hippos hanging around in the alley with our stuff. Or my stuff. I don’t really know if Fuzz has any stuff, and if he did, where he left it.

“Took you long enough.” Joshua smirks as he sees us approach, but I can see that he’s happy, so I let it slide.

As I reach my belongings, I immediately check my phone to see if any of the messages I sent Abby did come through. They didn’t. She really blocked me.

What destroys me even more is the fact that I have a ton of missed calls from my parents. Messages too, in all ranges of anger, asking me where I am and urging me to contact them immediately. There’s even a few missed calls from Jamie.

My heart clenches. Parents who love you, Fuzz had said. More like parents who are going to kill me as soon as they get their hands on me. I look at my screen, dazed.

The adrenaline has worn off and I’m starting to feel the darkness and panic bubble up inside again. It’s like I was ten feet tall a second ago, and now I’ve shrunk to the size of a mouse.

Lucky for me, at exactly the moment my breathing starts to hitch, Joshua shoves a bottle into my hand. “Well done homey! Cheers.” He clinks another bottle against mine, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I take a large gulp without checking what I’m pouring into my system.

Tepid beer, apparently. Could’ve been worse.  

“So, will you take care of our home when we’ll go and collect the stuff?”

I know I should say no.

This is not my home. I have a home. And I know I should go back there. Talk things out. Accept the punishment, so I can finish my school and make something of my life. But my heart clenches at the thought and I can feel my stomach turn at the idea alone.

I don’t want to go back.

I never want to go back.

So, I down the beer, force a smile to my face, and say yes.

Then I put my phone on airplane mode.

Mom, dad. You’re finally rid of me.