Page 10 of Yours on the Canvas

My pulse leaps, stuttering against my broken chest.

Someone’s here.

I don’t know if that’s good or bad, or if I’m about to be saved or swallowed by something worse, but it has to be better than dying alone in a ditch.

My laboured breathing stutters out of me, each inhale sending shards of glass through my chest. I try to shift just enough to see more, but the pain clamps down, vicious and unforgiving.

I grit my teeth, tasting blood. The night feels too quiet, too wide — empty in a way that makes my chest tighten.

Mud clings to me, cold water pooling around my body like a coffin someone forgot to close. Every breath is thin and shaky, and consciousness keeps slipping in and out, threatening to leave me completely.

I lie there, barely holding on, waiting to find out who stepped into my darkness.

* * *

Two car doors slam, and I hear boots crunch against the gravel somewhere nearby. I can hear two sets of feet, and they are coming closer.

My hand lifts, fingers reaching into the darkness, and I watch as the very tips of my fingers move into the light of the headlights.

“Help.” My breath wheezing as my voice barely makes it past my throat. It feels torn raw from where Julian strangled me. A groan slips out as the footsteps draw closer.

I try to move, but my body protests immediately. Pain rips through my chest, and I squeeze my eyes shut, praying whoever is coming finds me before they walk straight past.

“Help,” I croak again.

The footsteps stop, and for a second, there’s nothing but the sound of my own ragged breathing, but then they start again, slowly, taking measured steps towards me.

The darkness swallows everything, and with no moon tonight, there’s no chance they’ll spot me before they reach me.

Then a light clicks on.

A phone torch cuts through the darkness, sweeping across the ground before swinging in my direction. I lift one hand, reaching towards it, and hear their boots shift closer.

Relief loosens something inside my chest, and I let my head sink back against the damp earth and close my eyes.

Then I hear the voice.

“Hello, son.”

My eyes fly open, and my heart slams against my ribs, my lungs gasping for air. I know that voice, it’s one I will never forget. It’s the one I ran from.

Then another voice reaches me, this one even worse than the first.

“We thought it was you,” Uncle Ray says, as he drops down next to me. I look up at him, as he stands over me, fear coursing through my veins, and I watch in horror as he lifts his boot, and plants it squarely on my chest.

The torch beam swings upward, illuminating my uncles face, and I can see he hasn’t changed. His expression holds the same coldness I remember, the same complete lack of concern for what he’s done to me.

Then he presses his boot down, pushing me deeper into the mud beneath me.

Pain explodes through my ribs, and I feel something move beneath his weight, a scream tears out of me before I can stop it.

“Please…” I beg, my hands clawing at his boot, but I don’t have enough strength left to move him.

“You left us, dog.” His voice drips with contempt, every word meant to cut. “You cost us a lot of money.”

Uncle Ray leans closer, his shadow swallowing what little light I have left. He looks down at me like I’m something he scraped off his boot.

“You shouldn’t have left us, Jackie.” His tone softens in that sick, false way he uses when he wants control. “We’re family… and you ran from us. Anybody would think we didn’t treat you well.”