As I stepped out of the kitchen, I decided that it was time to get my thoughts in order, once and for all. I had to decide what path I was going to take regarding my father. I had to deliberate on whether I was willing to turn him in, just for the chance at a better life for myself.

It seemed selfish, almost like taking the easy way out. Although, what Owen had said was true; he could get the help he needed in prison. I could be helping him, in a way. Not a way he’d necessarily enjoy, but if it was what was best for him…

Then again, when had I ever known what was best for anyone? My father had always seemed to think that taking me away to Guam was the best decision for me. For a time, I’d believed him.

Had so much changed that he was wrong and this new way of thinking was suddenly right? Was I just being self-centered? Had Owen somehow warped my way of thinking? Nothing seemed to make sense in that moment, so I retrieved the bag that had my photo album wrapped protectively inside.

Withdrawing the book, I flipped open to the first page, where everything started—the day I was born. My parents looked so happy in each photograph, young and full of life. One never would have suspected my father of his dirty dealings, and no one could have predicted that my mother would be murdered thirteen years later. It was when their love was still fresh and new, and nothing could come between the two of them and their baby girl.

Flipping through the pages, I studied my parents’ expressions as the years passed and we got older. The twinkle of mirth that had been present in my father’s eyes seemed to evaporate, replaced with worries and insecurities. I imagined he was only a few years into his criminal lifestyle at that point, driven to bankruptcy by the company he’d worked for and unwilling to leave his family wanting for anything.

I wished I had been old enough to know at the time, old enough to tell him that it would have been enough to have a simple life. None of the extravagance—just the three of us and our love to get us through any hard times.

For my mother’s part, she seemed to almost deflate as the years passed. Where she’d once stood with proud posture and a big smile, her confidence had been ripped away by a husband who had inadvertently made her feel as if she weren’t enough. I would never tell my father about the nights I’d found my mother crying alone in their bedroom, clutching one of his shirts and praying that he would stay safe. If only we had known. If only we had been smarter.

Age thirteen was completely absent from the photo album, and pictures didn’t really reappear until I turned sixteen. My father’s face was ashen in every shot that I’d managed to take of him, though most of the pictures were just awkward teen selfies that I wouldn’t have thought to keep.

It had been so long since I’d been through that photo album. For the first time, I was almost able to consider the situation as an outsider. I felt strangely detached from the awkward teenager, the sickly-looking father, and the mother that would never appear in another photo.

When my mother died, my father had gone all-out trying to fill the void in our hearts. Every day was spent grieving for the life she’d lost, disguised as a celebration for the health we could still claim. My father drank himself sick. I thought he may take what had happened as incentive to come home, to be a father again. He only threw himself harder and harder into his work, until there was nearly nothing left to give.

I hadn’t wanted riches or five-star restaurants and bodyguards. I’d just wanted something that resembled a family. That was all.

As I sat staring into the pages of the photo album, I noticed a change in myself. A change similar to the one I had seen in my mother, but somehow more profound. I didn’t smile anymore. My expression was always a bitter one, or a forced smile when my dad happened to be watching.

He had thrown our entire lives away, all so he could keep living the high life. Part of me wanted to hate him, and I couldn’t deny that some small part of me resented him, at the very least.

If I were to turn him in to the federal government, he truly could receive the help he had needed for many long years. Since before my mother had died, since before we had even known what it was like to hit rock bottom. I could only imagine how my dad felt, seeing that note I’d left behind for him.

Would he realize what he was doing, then? Would he be willing to change, in the hopes of a better future? I wasn’t sure, but I was determined to find out.

Closing the photo album, I resolved that I had shed more than my share of tears that day. I had been granted a new opportunity, and I wasn’t going to squander it.

My thoughts turned to the military man with the cheeky smile and the lonely heart. I could tell he was trying to push me away, and I couldn’t blame him. I had been all but throwing myself at him, when he scarcely even knew me. As far as he knew, I wasn’t someone worth fighting for. Certainly not someone worth losing his job over.

Even if that were so, and I wasn’t worth his time, I wanted to at least get to know the man who had taken not only my first kiss, but who had stolen my heart. After everything I’d been through, it seemed to me that the perfect stress relief would be hitting the bars and having some drinks with Owen.

It seemed unlikely that he would allow it, but I hoped that he would at least consider the thought. I deserved a chance to enjoy the taste of freedom I had been granted. I couldn’t do that locked in the apartment, as much as I truly enjoyed the quaint nature of it.

The only thing I wanted was to have a day where I could at least pretend to be a normal 21-year-old woman. I wanted to hop from bar to bar, drink, eat some greasy food, and go to my temporary new home with a buzz in my gut and desire running through my veins.

I wanted Owen to take my virginity. It was a thought I had been battling with since I’d first been kissed by him, and there was no denying it. I was used to getting what I wanted with a flick of my wrist, but this I was willing to fight tooth and nail for. That is, if he would have me.

I strode out of my bedroom, spying him sitting on that couch I’d somewhat ridiculously come to adore. He was staring straight ahead, and while I could hear the TV, it seemed as if he were looking straight through it. There was a distant look in his eye, and I could only guess that he was troubled by how much of himself he had revealed to me.

I couldn’t imagine it was easy, being assigned a job like that and trying to keep distant from your captive. I should have made it easier on him. Then again, I never should have fallen for him either.

“Owen,” I called out, walking towards the couch.

He didn’t seem to hear me, only glancing up when I repeated his name. He looked tired, but I prayed that he would agree to spend the night on the town with me. I didn’t want to press him too hard, but being a doormat was the catalyst that had gotten me into this situation to begin with.

I stepped towards him, easing into a seated position at his side. He forced a smile, but it was obvious that it didn’t come from the heart.

“What’s up, Emily? Everything okay in your room?” he asked softly, brushing a hand through his gorgeous blond hair.

I tried not to sigh dreamily, focusing on the task at hand as much as possible.

“It’s fine, but I actually wanted to ask you a question,” I began nervously, hoping he would hear me out.

Already, I could see the subtle narrowing of his eyes, the glint of suspicion reflected back at me. He reached out to take my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before releasing it.

“What’s the question? There’s only so much I can tell you. I have no idea what they’ll do with your father, I don’t honestly know what they’ll do with y—” He cut himself short before I could properly interrupt, but it suited me just as well.

“It’s not about my father. You should be happy to know that I’ve decided to tell the FBI everything. He needs help, and this might be his one chance to get it,” I said, wanting to start on a good note and butter him up.

He seemed all too aware of my intent, though.

“That’s good. I’m happy to hear that, Emily—more than you can begin to know. But there’s obviously something else on your mind, so just spit it out,” he said.

I knew there was still time to back out, but if there was an inkling of a chance he’d agree to go with me, I was going to take it.

“I thought, after the long day we’ve had, that you and I could go out for drinks. Visit a couple of bars, get to know each other. Relax for the first time since we escaped,” I suggested with a hopeful smile.

His eyes only narrowed further, and it was clear he was none too pleased by my suggestion. Before I could begin to argue my point, he’d made his decision.

“If you want to relax, you’ll have to do it here. As much as I may like you, and as much as we get along, you’re still my captive. The feds would have my head if they knew I took you out on the town,” he said dismissively.

As I parted my lips to speak, he glared at me with force I’d never received from him.

“I’m being serious, Emily. I have to hand you over soon, and leaving the safe house jeopardizes the entire mission. I’m sorry, but the answer is no.”

As much as I wanted to argue, I knew it was a moot point. I should have known already that I was being transferred from one prison to another. What Owen didn’t know was that he was nothing of a warden compared to my father.

This little jailbird planned to grow her wings and fly, whether he liked it or not.