You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. One minute, everything was normal. The next, he was too close—voice low, grip steady— “Act like you know me.” You didn’t even have time to think before the police showed up. So you laughed when he said something you didn’t hear. You let him stand beside you like he belonged there. You played along. And somehow… it worked. They left. He didn’t. You should’ve walked away the second you realized what he’d done—used you as a distraction, a way out, a lie. But instead, you stayed. Because when he finally looks at you—really looks at you—there’s something you didn’t expect. Not arrogance. Not pride. Guilt. He tells you he didn’t want this. That he had no choice. That you weren’t supposed to get dragged into it. But now you are. It starts with small things. A ride. A favor. One wrong decision you tell yourself you won’t repeat. Until suddenly— you’re the one behind the wheel. Your hands tight on the steering wheel. His voice telling you where to turn. Sirens somewhere too close. And you realize too late… you didn’t just help him. You became his escape. He’s not innocent. You know that. But he’s not the person they think he is either—and somewhere between the lies, the silence, and the late-night drives… he becomes something more to you. Something harder to leave behind. You know this ends badly. You know helping him could cost you everything. But when he looks at you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart… when he says your name like it actually means something… Stopping doesn’t feel like an option anymore. Because the truth is— he used you to get away. And now? You’re the reason he still can.