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The voice was a hiss on the wind, but it was also a whisper in my ear. The God had come so close to having me once; It would never forgive my escape. No matter how far I went, no matter where I hid, it didn’t matter. It would always be looking for me, grasping for me, trying to drag me back into the dark.
“Find me,” I said softly, glaring into the trees, into the shadows where wicked things hid. “I’ll be bathing in your servants’ blood when you do. You can’t stop me.” The wind blew harder,colder. The trees groaned under the sudden force. “All you can do is watch the destruction.”
My injuries kept me from moving around much for the next few days. As it turned out, I was severely sleep-deprived besides my extensive wounds. I collapsed into bed mid-afternoon and didn’t stir until the next morning. I woke up only to eat, down an antibiotic and another oxy, and then fall back asleep for another twelve hours.
Miraculously, I didn’t have any nightmares. My dreams were disjointed and strange, long looping visions of walking through the woods as it got darker and darker. But nothing came out of the darkness for me, at least not yet.
By day three, I couldn’t take it anymore. If I had been alone, I would have already been dead or on my way to it, and that wasn’t acceptable. I hauled myself out of bed, made eggs and toast for breakfast, took an antibiotic but skipped the pain pills. I was sore as Hell, but that wasn’t an excuse. I couldn’t keep lounging around.
I jogged around the lake, keeping close to the shore. I had to stop far more than I found acceptable. I was risking tearing open my stitches, but I was getting anxious the longer I let myself rest. I was out on the deck, into my second set of burpees when I noticed Zane near the house.
I tried to ignore him. He didn’t let me.
“The fuck are you doing?” He watched me move up and down, his frown deepening in confusion. “You’re bleeding through your bandages. I can smell it.”
“I’ll...deal with it...later,” I panted. My head was getting a little light, but that didn’t matter. I got up for another jump, but Zane grabbed my upper arm before I could.
“Juniper, in general, I find humans to be painfully fragile,” he said. “Annoyingly delicate. Bump one of you mortals the wrong way and suddenly you’ve got broken bones. But you’re not going to kill your own mortality by breaking your body again. Opening your own scars won’t make them disappear.”
“Don’t try to be philosophical.” I was trying to catch my breath, but damn, now that I’d lost my momentum, the exhaustion was hitting me hard. “I don’t deserve to just sit in the house.”
“You tell me not to be philosophical, yet here you are imposing arbitrary stipulations on your own healing.” He scoffed. “You know what demons do when we’re hurt? We sleep. We’ll sleep foryearsif that’s how long it takes.” He shook his head. “What the hell do you mean, you don’tdeserveit? What does deserving have to do with it?”
I was too dizzy to keep standing. I sat on the deck, panting, and realized Zane was right about the bleeding: a large red stain had appeared on the bandage on my right arm. He squatted down across from me, so I knew he wasn’t just asking those questions for the hell of it. He wanted answers.
“Why does it matter to you?” I traced my thumb over the bloody stain. I should have been worried about the stitches I’d torn beneath; but instead, when I looked at the blood, all I saw was weakness.
“You need to stop asking that question.”
I glared up at him. “Why?”
“Because neither one of us is ready to hear the answer.”
That wasn’t what I’d expected to hear. But as I looked at him, at those golden eyes with black veins creeping in at the edges, I knew he was right.
“Do you know the story?” I said softly. “About the girl who went missing? The girl who lost her mind?” I looked down at the deck, at the swirls in the old, stained wood. “Do you know the story everyone told, or do you know the real one? You’re friends with Leon, so...maybe he told you.”
“Your story,” he said. “The girl who was lured into the woods, captured, tortured, thrown underground to die.” He nodded. It was the first time I’d heard another soul acknowledge what happened — what really happened. After so many years of only hearing the lies, to hear the truth from another mouth was stunning. “But you didn’t die. You got out. And that’s all I know, because that’s all Leon knows.” He chuckled. “He never understood how you got out of there. How you got away from him. I don’t, either.”
“I didn’t stop,” I said softly. “Everything hurt. I was so fucking scared. But…”
I had to get out.
I didn’t know how long I’d been screaming, only that my throat was so raw my voice was broken. What had happened after Victoria opened the church doors was warped by the LSD, shrouded and blurred by panic and pain.
All those people, faceless, hidden by their masks. Kent Hadleigh with the knife. Victoria, her hand around mine like Judas’s kiss. Jeremiah, cold and uncaring. Meredith Hadleigh, watching me in disgust. Heidi Laverne, asking for my name. Everly, hidden in the shadows, witnessing me bleed.
I knew them. I’d trusted them.
I dug my fingers into the mud, dragging myself up the slope with shaking arms. Every breath was a panicked sob, adrenaline had overtaken every nerve, every muscle. Another fingernail ripped off, pain shooting up my hand into my arm. They’d boarded up the entrance to the shaft, I’d heard the hammers pounding as I screamed. Part of my brain thought I was already dead, and I should just lay down and wait for whatever I could hear moving around in the dark to come take me.
I didn’t stop.
I found little roots in the mud and grasped them. I flattened myself to the ground, my cheek sliding through the mud, shuddering with pain as I scrambled higher...higher. I couldn’t slip down again. I wouldn’t be able to make it back up. My strength was failing.
If I fell again, it would be for the last time.
“Juniper Kynes...come to me...”
