fluttering like a terrified bird. I lock gazes with the driver, struck dumb by the fact I almost just died—that I finally made a break for my freedom and nearly lost my life before I could even complete my escape.
The man is… beautiful. Almost inhumanly so. Sharp features, strong jaw, messy black hair, and a five o’clock shadow that’s seen the darker side of midnight.
He looks like some kind of ancient god who rose up out of the darkness and will return there as soon as I blink.
We’re frozen, both of us, gaping at each other for several long seconds as if time has stopped.
I’m not sure who moves first, but in the same instant that he reaches for his seatbelt, I take off toward the other side of the road and the shelter of the woods. My ankle throbs as I crash through the undergrowth and dart around trees.
But I don’t stop.
I run and run, until all hint of civilization is far behind me, until I’m crossing shallow streams instead of roads, until I’m climbing steeply pitched slopes into the foothills. I lose all sense of time and direction. I could be racing headlong into the pits of hell, and I wouldn’t care—I’ll keep going until Clint can’t find me, even if the devil can.
The moon is high, a sliver of light barely breaking through the canopy overhead when I pause and lean against a thick tree trunk to catch my breath. My chest burns as if my lungs are on fire, and my muscles are shaky and weak. I lean over, pressing my hands into my knees, and focus on taking deep breaths. As the adrenaline wears off and the sharp pain of each breath begins to fade, heat rises in my injured ankle. I’ve probably turned the “twist” into a sprain.
Great, I think, straightening and laying my head back against the cool bark. A sprained ankle to match my sprained wrist. I’m stylish as fuck.
I almost laugh again into the darkness, and I have a fleeting worry that I’m losing my mind. I don’t feel like… myself.
My life has been an unending monotony of boredom, fear, and pain for so long that the number of new things that’ve happened tonight leaves me reeling. My mind can’t quite comprehend all of it, and when I try to comprehend the enormity of what I’ve done, something powerful and overwhelming rises up in my chest.
If I let that thing grow too big, I know it will crush me. It will dwarf me, leaving me curled up in a ball on the ground.
So I push thoughts of any future beyond the next few minutes away. That’s all I can handle right now. A minute at a time.
Pressing a hand to the lingering stitch in my side, I scan the dark forest around me.
I’m not sure what my plan is from here, but I don’t want to stay still for too long. I know chances are slim Uncle Clint will find me this deep in the wilderness, but why tempt fate? I can find somewhere to shelter overnight—a cave, or a tree, maybe, so I don’t get eaten by bears.
As I shove away from the tree to get moving, a wave of dizziness crashes over me. I stumble, catching myself against the trunk before I can keel over into the undergrowth. The run took a lot out of me. More than I realized, which is stupid really, considering I’m fresh off a hospital visit.
I lift my head, focusing on the tree as I try to blink away the fog that clouds my vision. There are strange dark lines etched into the bark beneath my palm, and I lift my hand, swaying as I let all my weight settle back on my legs. The trunk is marked with some kind of odd pattern.
Bears, I think, scraping my fingertips down the claw marks. It’s just bears. Not that the idea of bears being nearby gave me any kind of comfort. And what kind of bears make marks that look so stylized?
My feet are infinitely heavy as I turn and stumble away from the marked-up tree. I couldn’t run now if I tried, but I keep my pace as quick as I can. I trip over my own feet several times, barely able to stay upright, but I manage to move several more yards through the trees. Those strange marks are on a bunch of these trunks, but I’m too tired and strung out to