“Grit, please. I know someone who can help. If I send him a message?—”
“No! If you are caught, they’ll execute you!” Swallowing, I lower my voice. “They will kill you, just like the others who tried to help me. Please, please, you’ve already done so much for me.”
“Grit, they won’t stop. They could kill you.” Tears stream down her face.
I can’t put her life in danger. I kiss her cheek, give her another hug, and then head for the door.
She follows me, holding the screen door open with one hand and the box I gave her with the other. As I reach the end of the walkway, I turn to look at her one last time and wave goodbye.
Night falls, and the forest floor turns into a tapestry of shadows as the moonlight filters through the branches of the trees. I listen to the rushing water from the Ruby Falls and the soft musical sound of crickets chirping. I sit on a jagged boulder in a clearing within the forest with my few personal items in a beat-up backpack and continue to pick at the frayed edges of my pleated skirt.
I left Ms. Fields’ home three hours ago. He was supposed to be here to meet me, to help me. I replay the last conversation, or rather fight, we had a few days ago. He didn’t feel my urgency to leave the territory was warranted. He promised he would be here today. But he isn’t. He never showed. My heart breaks from disappointment and betrayal. Tears well in my eyes.
I try to shake off the pain and replace it with anger because I don’t have time to grieve over a boy who broke his promises. I need to escape this territory before I end up dead.
We planned to breach the territory boundary into Territory One, the Emerald pack land. From there, beyond the pack territories, the city is a neutral area where I can hide. I can get a job, make some money, find a place to live. I can eventually go back to school and leave the LS for good.
And when I make it out of this territory, he better pray that we never cross paths again. Balling my hands into fists at my sides, I push to my feet with renewed determination. I advance through the brush and low-lying branches of the fir trees and blaze a trail to safety, to freedom.
Nervous energy vibrates under my skin. Soon I will be free of this horrible pack, of my abusive parents and brother. Halfwaythere, a cacophony of sound fills the air behind me—growls, snapping jaws, laughter, and whoops of joy. With a bone-jarring fear, I tear off my backpack and start to run.
My heart wants to leap out of my chest, and my lungs want to explode. The muscles in my legs burn. Fuck. Fuck! They’re getting closer! A piercing howl sends shivers up my spine. Another howl emanates through the territory, then another.
My brother and his friends invented this signaling system. It’s a red flag, a warning that they’re coming for me. This time, they will make sure I don’t survive. I know it. I can feel it. I need to get out of here, off this territory, and find sanctuary.
My steps falter, and I fall to my hands and knees. The beating earlier took a lot out of me. Gasping for air, I push myself up. I’m almost there, so close to the territory line. Hope and a renewed sense of energy burst through me. I sprint toward the boundary.
I tear through the brush, jumping over tree roots. But the crashing of the brush and the pounding of paws and feet behind me grows louder. Fuck! They’re closer.
Then it hits me. Why the fuck am I running? Without slowing down, I scan for a low-hanging branch. If I climb up, I can jump from tree to tree. There, up ahead, I see one. Despite my body’s protesting aches and pains, I push myself harder, faster.
I leap into the air with all of my might. Catching the branch with both hands, I hoist myself up. Just as my upper body makes it over the branch, a snarling wolf latches onto my leg. I hang on tightly as he jerks my body down. Desperately, I try to break the wolf’s hold, ignoring the pain from the canines digging into my flesh. This wolf is relentless, shaking his head and growling. His teeth sink deeper into my leg. With my other foot, I kick his head repeatedly.
Another wolf comes, jumping up and raking its sharp claws down my back. I scream in agony, and my grip on the branch loosens. Together, they bring me down, tearing at me with clawsand teeth. I whimper and press my lips together. I just want to scream or, better yet, die, but I won’t give them the satisfaction.
Twisting, turning, punching, I thrash around to escape from under them. I kick hard, catching one of the wolves in the jaw. It squeals in pain, and I scramble to my stomach, hastily digging my feet and elbows into the ground to crawl away. I’m too slow.
The other wolf pounces, pinning me down with its weight. A chuckle echoes from somewhere in the dark, followed by a low growl.
Bart slowly walks forward. “Aww, poor little brat. You honestly thought you could outrun us? Where the hell do you think you’re going, huh?” Crouching down, he grabs a handful of hair.
I grunt as his nails turn into claws and pierce my scalp.
“Even if you cross the territory line, no one will save you.” He leans down near my ear. “This is pack business, and everyone knows that the other packs don’t interfere with pack business, stupid bitch!” He shoves my face into the dirt. “Skunk, where the fuck is the rope?” he shouts. A wolf with a white stripe along its back emerges from the brush, holding a rope dangling from his mouth.
No, not Skunk—the only friend left among my peers. My eyes connect with his. His eyes reflect sadness and guilt. I avert my eyes. I don’t need him to feel guilt over this. I rather he survive than end up dead, like the others who tried to help me before.
“I thought you chickened out on me, Skunk. Glad to know you’re on our side.” Bart snickers, grabbing my head again.
Skunk emits a low growl before he huffs and moves to stand by another wolf with blood—my blood—staining its muzzle. Bart yanks my head back. I squirm to fight despite the large animal sitting on my back.
He slips the rope over my head and around my neck. I study his face, looking for any signs of love or compassion, but all Isee is rage. My parents never loved me. There was no coddling, no hugs or kisses. No kind words. Instead, I endured curses and slurs, slaps and punches. And Bart delighted in torturing me too. His eyes shine with cruelty and excitement. No love for his little sister.
“Why?” I whisper.
His face reddens, and a corner of his lip curls in a sneer. “Why? Because your very existence makes us sick. For generations, my family has done everything to wipe out your kind, and yet you still exist. Now I have to clean up their mess and get rid of you for them! Those ungrateful bastards!”
What the hell is he talking about? My kind? He’s my brother, for fuck’s sake. I mean, sure, he has brown hair and brown eyes like both of my parents, and I have blonde hair and blue eyes. I’m sure it’s a throwback from some recessive trait generations back.
