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Uncle Clint will chase me. But I’m smaller, quicker, lighter. And my life depends on this. I’ll run until my legs collapse before I let him catch up to me.
The sound of the deer leaping ahead of me is like a beacon in the pitch dark night. I follow that sound beyond the flat plain and into the woods, giving myself over to the wilderness. Uncle Clint’s curses follow me, but they grow weaker as I fly over the thick undergrowth.
My ankle should hurt. I think it does hurt, but there’s too much adrenaline and panic flooding my body for me to feel anything but the desperate burn in my lungs.
Low-hanging branches slap at my arms and face, and I know they’re leaving more marks on my body to add to the ones I already have, but I don’t care. I keep moving, focusing on the sharp inhalations and exhalations of my breath, because if I stop to think, my throbbing injuries will overtake me. I can’t afford to stumble.
Not now. Not so close to freedom.
Before long, my uncle’s string of obscenities peters out. The man’s out of shape and has no business running through the woods. His heavy footfalls fade little by little, until I can’t hear him anymore at all.
A giddy laugh escapes my lips, disappearing into the broad expanse of woods around me.
Jesus. Am I doing this? Really?
My old terror rises when I realize I’ve reached the point of no return. If he finds me now, I’ll pay for it in ways I can’t even imagine. I’ve just done the most terrifying thing I could possibly do—run from my abuser. And if he finds me now, he’ll beat me until I can’t run anymore.
Or worse, until I’m dead.
I can never go back.
A fresh surge of adrenaline pours through me, and I put on another burst of speed. I’ve lost track of the deer, which isn’t too surprising. There’s no way I could run as fast as the buck, and I don’t know the landscape of the forest like he does. But I’m thankful he was there for a short time and helped give me the clarity I needed to run.
The deer was another Doctor Patil. Another sign from the universe. He saved my life by doing what he does best, and showing me that I could too.
Even though I can no longer hear Uncle Clint pursuing me, I’m not dumb enough to think he’s given up. It’s likely he’s hurrying back to his pickup, where he’ll slam into the driver’s seat and take off to look for me. As long as I stay in the woods and far away from the roads, I should be safe.
But as soon as I have the thought, the woods begin to thin out. I spill onto the narrow shoulder of a road, my sneakers slapping on pavement before I even realize what’s happened. In the same instant that I recognize the yellow lines beneath my feet, headlights flash over me.
I freeze, panic turning me to stone.
The car bearing down on me is nothing but two bright circles of light as its headlights blind me. My mind screams at me to run, to leap off the road, to get out of the way. What if it’s Uncle Clint?
But fear has rendered me incapable of even lifting a finger or turning away so I don’t have to see my death coming.
An ungodly screech emits from beneath the car, and it slings sideways. Not an accidental save this time thanks to a light rear end, as it was for Uncle Clint. A defense maneuver. I have a brief moment to think, Oh, thank God, it’s not a truck, before I realize the car is still coming toward me, skidding sideways as momentum drags it across the pavement.
As if I could somehow stop a moving vehicle, I throw my hands out. The car screeches a moment longer and then halts. My palms slap uselessly against the door, and pain shoots up my injured wrist.
But I’m alive.
My heart is somewhere beneath the car, still 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.
