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It felt so damn heavy. She could barely lift it, though the metal was that cheap, synthetic kind and not real steel.Hold it,the shadowy part of her hissed, and she didn’t dare hesitate.
“Lo-ren,” her father sing-songed. She rarely heard him say her name, let alone like this. Playfully. Hungrily…
“Huh, girl?” he demanded with a cold laugh. “What you gonna do with that?”
Use it?She had never intentionally hurt someone. Ever.Liar, a part of her hissed.You hurt Naomi, and you enjoyed every damn bit of it...
“Stop!” Loren didn’t know if the plea was directed at herself, or the man still advancing at a lazy, casual pace. “P-please. Just leave me alone.”
“You’ve been a bad girl, Lo-ren,” he growled. “Verybad. Just what did you say to that damn McGoven to get him sniffing around you, huh? Just what did you give him, girl?”
He lashed out for the neckline of her nightgown and yanked. With a violentrrrriiiipp,the cotton tore down to her navel, revealing pale, bruised skin.
Shame flooded her cheeks as she scrambled to shield what she could with her free hand. “P-please stop—”
“You let him take you, you little slut?” her father shouted over her. “You let him have you? Mark you? I bet the bastard would love a little bitch like you. Just as easy a slut as your damn mother.”
NO!Loren didn’t know what happened. She saw him reach for her and her own grip tightened over the knife, lifting it…
But it was like something else took over, guiding the blade in a wide arch.
“Son of a bitch!” Howling with rage, her father stumbled back, clutching his arm to his chest. A sharp scent tinged the air—one she recognized with a shudder. Blood. “You cut me!”
There wasn’t time for fear. Loren took her shot and lurched for the back door, wrenching it open. It was raining hard. The torrent churned the earth into a slippery soup that coated her bare feet as she jumped off the porch and raced for the woods.
“Loren!” His voice rang out behind her, punctuated by a harsh laugh.Where ya going, Lo-ren?You can’t run from me…
But she tried. Panting for air, she navigated the darkened woods while her thin nightgown bunched up around her legs. The soles of her feet ached. She couldn’t see anything but looming, endless black.
But she could hear him well enough. “Where ya running to, darlin’?” The drunken endearment seemed to come from every direction at once. Far away. Too close.
Insideher head.
“Darlin,’ Darlin’… Where you going, Darlin’? Don’t you know I’ll always find you?”
Noises crashed through the underbrush just paces behind her.
“H-help!” Forsaking stealth, she screamed. “H-help…me. Help me…help!”
It was too late.
A flicker of movement from the corner of her eye was her only warning before she went sprawling, thrown by an impenetrable force. Boneless, she tumbled down a hill, landing in a heap near the bubbling path of the stream. Sometime during the fall, her nightgown tore completely, hanging open as she scrambled to her knees.
A desperate hope grappled with the building terror. Somehow, she made it all the way to the Baker farm. She was close enough to view the barn through the trees.
But would anyone hear her?
Sucking in a breath, she put her effort into making sure someone would. “Help me! Please—”
“Get back here, you little bitch.” Her father’s voice reached her in advance of his heavy footsteps. He took his time, seeming to leisurely pick his way through the underbrush.
You’re dead,a part of Loren whispered.Dead, dead, dead.
But she still had the knife in her hand. Her knuckles whitened over the handle, not that it would help one damn bit.
“You think you can run from me?” Her father posed the question casually as he appeared at the top of the hill. “You think that I would just let youleave? So you can take all that fucking money for yourself?”
No,Loren thought sadly. She had always known how this story would end. One final chapter concluded with violence.
