The silence wasn’t just the absence of sound. It was the absence of everything. Of the future, of hope, and of life itself.
The third cut was the one that broke her. The knife went deeper. Warm liquid soaked through her clothes, carrying away more than just blood. It carried away dreams, possibilities, love… everything that made her whole. Her child. Her daughter. Gone.
“Nooo! No-no-no!” Sienna’s screams were raw primal agony as her hands flew to her violated body, trying helplessly to hold herself together, to keep what was left of her as if she could seal the wound, as if she could put the innocent little life back inside. But it was too late. The emptiness wasn’t just physical. It hollowed out her soul, leaving nothing but echoing devastation.
She couldn’t scream anymore. She vomited—a dry, heaving retch, because her body couldn’t decide which violation to expel first.
But her daughter was gone. And the pain? The pain was everywhere. It radiated from the wound, yes, but also from the void—the place where her baby had been, was now just… empty. A negative space… a missing.
Sienna didn’t scream. She howled. It was a sound beyond pain, beyond grief. It was the melody of a soul shattering and of a mother’s heart being torn from her body. Stan’s laughter barely registered. She was already gone,retreating deep inside herself where even he couldn’t reach her.
Sienna finally gave over to the darkness, knowing that although her wounds would heal, leaving scars and burying her in pain, they’d become ghosts that would roam her soul forever.
A bird’s squawk shattered the stillness in a staccato, gutturalgugugug, cak-cak-cak…a broken melody torn from its throat as it sat on a branch high in the ponderosa pine. The sound yanked Sienna from the suffocating grip of her memories, dragging her back to the present with a violence that left her breathless. She was still gathering herself when the floodgates opened. The first time since the incident.
Tears that were raw and filled with sorrow spilled over. Her shoulders shook with silent, wracking sobs with her breath coming in ragged, uneven puffs. For a moment, she was back in that room, back in the wet, tearing give of her own flesh, and drowning in the silence that followed when the world stopped moving.
“Will the pain ever go away?” The words escaped her lips in a prayer, a desperate whisper tossed into the void, hoping that someone,anyone, might answer. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, but the tears kept coming, as if her body had decided it would rather drown than continue to carry the hurt.
Blinded by grief, she stumbled toward the hiking path. The world around her had dissolved into a watercolor painting left in the rain—all smudged edges and bleeding colors. She failed to see the rock jutting from the ground and the next moment, she was falling. Her scream of pain chased her as she crashed against a boulder. Agony tore through her as already bruisedribs cracked against the rock like kindling, and the wound on her arm tore open. The pain was a beast with claws, and it sank them deep into her side, her shoulder, even her soul. She clutched at the wound on her arm. Without having to look, she knew the stitches had come undone. She could feel the warm, slick rush of blood seeping between her fingers.
“Maybe this is it.” The thought slithered into her mind, in a dark and seductive notion. “I’ll just lie here and bleed to death.”
It would be so easy. No more running. No more hiding. No more waking in the dead of night, drenched in sweat, or her hands flying to her stomach, searching for a heartbeat that was no longer there. Stan had placed his goons outside the hospital room, promising worse should she utter one word to the police. Escape and running had been her only option for survival, to one day being able to make him pay.
“I don’t deserve to live.” The guilt was a noose around her neck, tightening with every breath. “I didn’t protect her. I’m just as guilty as he is.” The words tasted like ash on her tongue.
Overcome with fear, bile rose inside her at the sound of crunching footsteps and twigs snapping close by.
“Are you okay… good lord! You’re bleeding. Daddy! Get over here! Quickly!”
Sienna stared unblinking at the young brunette rushing toward her. Relief washed over her. It wasn’thim.
“No need to shout, angel. I’m far from deaf.” The response came in a deep, calm voice threaded with quiet amusement.
“Gmphf. Some days I wonder.” The woman fussed over Sienna while responding over her shoulder.
“Careful, I might just decide to pick a switch from yonder tree and?—”
His words cut off as he saw her. Sienna flinched. The man who knelt beside her was enormous—a bear of a man in red flannel and worn jeans.
“No!” Sienna whimpered. “Please, don’t hurt me!” For one terrible heartbeat, all she could see was him—Stan—in his red silk shirt, his cruel smile and the flash of the rapier. She pressed herself into the rough surface of the boulder, her body curling in on itself.
The man froze. “Easy. There’s no need to be alarmed.” Then, slowly, deliberately, he held up his hands with his palms open, and fingers spread, as if to prove he was unarmed.
“My name is Derek Hawkins, and this is my wife, Sadie.” His deep rumbling voice reminded her of distant thunder. “You’ve wandered onto our property. This is Rawhide Ranch. You’re hurt, and we are going to take care of you.” His eyes were deep and a fathomless blue as he locked his gaze on her. “You’re safe with us, little forest nymph.”
The words were absurd. Ridiculous under the circumstances, and yet, something inside her unclenched. Perhaps it was the way he said it, as if it were a vow. Perhaps it was the way he brushed her hair back from her face in a touch so careful and reverent, she almost believed him.
Sienna relaxed but couldn’t stop the tears from flowing again. Raw sobs wracked her body. “I’m not a nymph, and I’ll never be safe… no matter where I go.”
“I once felt like you do right now.” The woman’s hand settled on Sienna’s brow as gentle as a summer breeze, breaking through her despair. “I found my savior in this man years ago, and believe me, when my husband makes a promise, he keeps it. What he just said is as good as a sworn oath. We will keep you safe. Now, relax and let this big bear of a husband of mine pick you up and carry you to the truck. Contrary to his size, he is also very gentle.”
Sienna wanted to argue. She wanted to scream, disappear into the trees, and never look back. But exhaustion had settled into her bones, and the pain in her still raw wounds and ribsthrobbed in time with her heartbeat as a relentless reminder of how fragile she truly was.
Too weary to protest, she nodded. Still, she stiffened when Derek lifted her into his arms. His movements were careful, almost tender.
“Relax, little one. I’ve got you.” He started walking in the opposite direction from the hiking trail. “Love, please phone the hospital in Missoula and warn them we’re bringing in a patient who needs urgent care.”
