“Nice to meet you.” I laughed, still a little lightheaded from the lack of food or water or sleep. “Well, T-T-Trevor, I’m going to t-tell you something. I’ve had a really bad d-day, but that’s over now.”
“Yeah, because you’re here now. You can stay with us.”
“Actually I probably need t-to find a town.” And a police station.
I didn’t relish the thought of turning him in, but I didn’t have a way of getting back my stuff without him. My car, my camera—my book. Some days I wondered if the book meant more to me than the place.
“It’s a hike up that way.” Trevor waved down the river. “We’re going back tomorrow morning if you want us to show you.”
Relief flooded me. “That would be great.”
Rob popped open a beer from their cooler and held it out. “Thirsty?”
* * *
“Hold her down.”
I woke up without air. Someone was on top of my chest, holding me down. Something else was clamped over my mouth, blocking my breath. I struggled, managing to dislodge the hand long enough to suck in precious lungfuls, but by the time I could focus again, my arms were bent backward, trapped in the sand by two heavy knees pressing down, cutting off circulation.
Trevor straddled my chest, mauling my breasts. My dress was pushed up, the thin fabric bunched around my neck, making me feel even more trapped. My breathing came faster. Dark spots danced in front of my eyes. I was going to black out. Maybe that would be best. Then I wouldn’t have to feel what came next. But I might not wake up. Already I struggled to breathe, jerking and flailing for unblocked access to the crisp night air.
Slowly, I stilled. Around me, there was motion. The men were moving over me, around me. Hurting me. I stared up at the stars. They were so bright out here. There were never so many at home. Was this the price to see them?
A sharp pain stabbed at my center. My entire body recoiled from his penetration, writhing in the sand with nowhere to go. The night sky blurred as tears filled my eyes, and the twinkling lights melted and swirled. It reminded me of a painting I’d seen in a book, swirls of blue and yellow. Maybe the artist had cried and painted what he’d seen. Maybe he had been hurt too while looking up at the sky.
How had this happened? I’d agreed to stay the night in their camp. They were hiking back to the nearest town in the morning and they’d take me with them. Oh God, oh God. Had it been a lie to keep me there? Or I’d just been too convenient.
The world was exactly as awful as my mother had said it was, but I didn’t even wish to be home. Like the girl in the story, the true story, I wanted to take a canoe onto the river, to let it slip over the waterfall and never have to worry again.
This time, Hunter wasn’t here to catch me. No god of thunder to keep me safe.
I was alone, though I’d lost something precious, something important along my harrowing trip through the trees. I’d lost fear. So let me die, let me hurt. I didn’t care, and the detachment lent me strength.
With a force unknown, I snapped my head forward. My forehead cracked against the man on top of me. I shoved him off me and started to get up. Other hands dragged me down, but I kicked and screamed. I bit down on fingers until I tasted blood and felt my teeth grind against bone.
Blows rained down on my head, my stomach. I fell to the ground, gasping for air but taking in sand. Pain blossomed all over my body as they closed in on me. They huddled around me and kicked, and I stared up at the sky, my body jostled about by their currents, tipping over the edge of the waterfalls and falling, tumbling to a welcomed conclusion.
A crack rang out and one of the men fell over my body. There was shuffling and shouting, then another crack and a thud beside me.
Hunter, H
unter, is that you?
Someone came to stand over me, blocking the stars. Not Hunter, I realized. Never Hunter because I’d left him. Just an ordinary man, and I understood what had sent the girl out into the canoe. Why did you catch me from falling? I wanted to die.
Chapter Thirteen
At the current rate of erosion, scientists predict the Niagara Falls will be gone in around 50,000 years.
I woke up bound to a bed, my arms held immobile beside me, my whole body weighted down and sweating. No, not again. I fought, kicking and punching my way out of the restraints. A man appeared over me and held me down, shouting something I couldn’t make out.
“Hunter!” I screamed his name, though I didn’t know whether it was in anger or a call for help. My heart beat against my chest like a drum. God, he’d made me this way. If he was going to domesticate me, he had to damn well keep me from running away.
Resigned, I slumped down on the bed, sobbing quietly. I was the crazy one.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” a voice said.
He sounded relieved, I thought.