It's too risky. Go to France as Gabby

Sunday comes quickly. Gabby's final test went well, you think. For some reason you studied far harder for someone else's test than you ever have for any of your own - maybe you felt like you owed her. Gabby's friends headed out for a few drinks after the test had ended, and you joined them to celebrate, commiserate and part ways for the break - you are her, after all. Since you plucked up enough courage to remove the skin and hit her with the brown pen on Wednesday evening, the masquerade has been easy. You realized you've been overdoing it with her accent, for example; she's not an 'oo la la' kind of lady as you've been pretending; you've been laying on her accent too thick. Now you can remember and feel just as she would if you choose.. at least, on the surface you can.

Deep down, being Gabrielle is a melancholy experience. Outwardly you seem excited you are heading home; certainly your excitement spilled over in a Skype conversation with her mother - a test you set yourself to ensure you can both speak French and impersonate her perfectly. But inside you feel a deep sadness.

Part of it is that Gabrielle really didn't deserve this fate. You're her as a necessity, but it doesn't make it any easier; you know she wouldn't want this existence. Who would? But you can set those thoughts to one side. Late on Wednesday you discovered the red pen's ability to change a skin's weight, apparent age and details like hair and skin color. While you experimented with its powers, you knew exactly how Gabrielle - as perfect as she is - would have improved herself if she had the pen. She would have used the pens to borrow someone's life in your situation, you are sure. That eases your guilt a little.

The real cause for your sadness is your family and friends. Back when this started, you had every intention of rescuing them. Now you realize just how impossible that would be. For one thing, where do you stop? Rescue Jimmy or Trish and their family would face the same fate as your own. Rescue your relatives and your extended family would become a target... and six are harder to hide than one. Your only option is to leave them behind to the whims of this secret, sinister organization.

That's why, as she sits in the airport waiting for her flight, a beautiful French woman, dressed in comfortable designer jeans and a loose T-shirt, is sobbing quietly behind her sunglasses. You've made it through every test you have have faced, and you could escape to France in a few hours. You've checked your luggage - the pens safe and inconspicuous in your hand baggage - but you haven't been able to bring yourself to venture into the departure lounge. As you stare at your French passport, you know this is the final step. Leave as Gabrielle and you never see your family again.

Are you really ready to give up? You have your reasons, but there has to be a way to save your family. What kind of life would you have if you left now if you did? You could be anyone you want (and Gabrielle is a great choice for a life, at least temporarily) but you would always feel like you should have done more now. Even if you take the fight to this organization from France, if you run now you'll regret it.

Saying put is still an option. You could swap with someone heading back to town. From the small overpriced bistro you're sat in, you can see the arrivals hall. A group of stewardesses are making their way through, standing out from the crowd with their perfect appearance and crisp crimson suits. You spot one, a beauty with auburn locks and far too much makeup, break from the group and head to the toilet. She could be a chance to head back to town.

Or you could switch with one of the steady stream of arriving passengers. There seem to be a few options: businessmen and women, back from a convention given the sharp suits and branded bags they are carrying. There's an older, still attractive blonde woman in her mid-forties, returning from vacation with her family you assume - she's still in a floppy hat and sundress, and hasn't lost her figure. There's also an Afro-Caribbean woman in her late twenties, her hair in a ponytail and dressed in a sports jacket, who could be a possibility. You're sure you recognize her as the star midfielder of the local women's soccer team; Trish dragged you along to a game once. You can't remember her name, but she plays at international level. Not an outright celebrity (women's soccer doesn't attract big crowds), but without question a potential new identity if you decide to turn back.

There are lots of options, but you have to decide: leave for France, or head back into town and fight.

(Author: Collider)