Page 29 of The Unravelings

There’s no escape. Nowhere to run or hide.

My breath quickens impossibly fast, stealing all the oxygen from my lungs. I gasp and hold a hand over my thudding heart.

I need to ground myself before I have to face the monsters of my past again. Before I drown. Or run. Or spiral somewhere I can’t come back from. Like that time at the bar.

I suck in a fresh breath and shake my head, snapping out of the descent I’ve mentally taken. The darkness hasn’t reached me for years. Always blocked by a case or distracted by Jordy. All my comforts have been ripped away from me. Jordy? On another case. And my case? It’s nothing but a walk through a cemetery filled with all the ghosts of my past. Only they aren’t dead, and there’s no escaping for me.

I’d better not leave this town in a real body bag, or I’ll haunt every single person involved.

Blinking several times, I nearly recoil at the location I’ve come to. Silence embraces me, ringing in my ears with a familiarity I almost didn’t recognize. Licking my lips, I peer around the forest I once called home. The place where I hid beneath the shady oaks and behind the tall pines for protection from my father.

Wild laughter from years before rings in my ears. Ghosts of my childhood pass by, chasing each other. Like spirits dancing before me, they disappear, making their way to the only place they felt safe in.

The treehouse.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I tilt my head back and immerse myself in the forest all around me. It hugs me in a tight embrace, forcing the anxiety and pain of my day to flee. For a minute, at least. Trees for what seems like miles darken the ground around my feet. Leaves crunch beneath my shoes, mixed with the pine needles and cones falling from the trees.

This little blip of paradise has always been a mix of tall oaks and pine trees, here for centuries before, and aiding us in our home life escapes.

Sharp memories of my childhood, spent wandering through these very trees, weave their way into my mind, bringing everything out of the dark, black box I hid them in.

I want to escape. I want to be free. Like I did as a kid. The same crushing feeling cracks into my chest and pries me open. Beating heart and all.

My feet move as my arms drop to my sides. Steady footsteps echo through the dense forest, and the beautiful smell of fresh pine fills my nose. Everything crashes into me all at once. My circumstances. The text from JJ. The moment Jordy left me to fend for myself. He won’t bail me out anymore. The twins won’t let him get away too easily.

Faint whispers spark in the air, but I don’t pay them any mind. They’re figments of my imagination. Ghosts that don’t exist. Or maybe they do. Legend has it that Captain John Greenwood, the pirate who founded Greenwood, roamed these woods in his last days. Treasures of massive amounts are around here somewhere, but no one has been that brave in years.

Years of rumors of hauntings and now dead bodies push people away from this area. Well, sometimes. College students often visit this area for extracurricular activities that the school wouldn’t approve of. Murder? Drug use? It has it all. I’m sure someone is lurking somewhere with their eyes on me.

Except where I’m standing.

Within these trees lie two buildings that were once my entire world. My home, which is now nothing more than ash—at least, I hope—and the treehouse that was my home away from home. My sanctuary. Sure, we had the Colosseum and the caves below to explore. But our treehouse?

It was something more. Something magical.

It’s where I lost my virginity to all three of them. The place where I took my first sip of a margarita. Or the nights I hugged Huxley or Mack or JJ, as we counted the thunder as it roared through the area.

The treehouse was a piece of all of us. An intricate part of our childhoods. It raised us better than the homes we came from. Provided shelter for us in the storms brewing behind its walls.

And somehow, as I’ve walked through the woods on muscle memory alone, I’m back under it, staring up at the well-preserved outline. It hasn’t aged a day since I left five years ago. Fresh brown paint lines the outside and the small porch, helping it to blend into its surroundings. Someone has kept up with it, keeping it as it was before.

Our sanctuary.

Tears fall from my eyes as I run through the forest, trying to recount the path toward the only place I can imagine getting to. I look over my shoulder, convinced he’ll be right behind me, holding his belt in the air, ready to beat me into oblivion.

My breath pours from my mouth as I gasp for more oxygen to fuel me forward. But it does nothing. My vision blurs. My heart pounds wildly in my chest, aching to break through my ribs.

Freedom. It’s all I need right now. I need a hiding place. Somewhere to recover. Somewhere he won’t know about.

If I had one wish, I’d beg to leave that house and never come back. Sure, I’ve made new friends and get along with everyone in town. I’m the perfect example of a Mafia princess.

On the outside, anyway.

On the inside, I’m clawing for freedom. Eager to leave the nest and my father behind. My mother refuses to leave, stating she’d have nowhere to go. No one to help her. And she may be right, but what’s the point if she hasn’t even tried?

With trembling fingers, I climb the rope ladder, leading to the small hole on the porch of the treehouse. I collapse right there, crying out when the welts on my back and ass sting from the pressure. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I turn over and lie on my stomach. My breaths come and go quickly as the pain sizzles across my flesh like he’s still behind me, drunkenly spouting about what I’ve done now, which is nothing.

I turn my head toward the small door, leading into the treehouse. It has four walls like a small home for us to escape to. I’ve only been here a few times with Hux, JJ, and Mack. It’s become our spot to unwind after school. Well, when they can get away from their foster father, that is. And when I have the freedom to leave my bedroom.