Chapter One
Lucy
The rain beats down on the windshield, making it almost impossible to see. Worse, I had to roll up the windows once it started coming down, and there is no air conditioning in this car, which makes it hard to even breathe. My hand grips the steering wheel even tighter, my knuckles already aching. They have been locked on it since I tore out of my grandfather’s home at a dead run to get away from him as fast as I could. I couldn’t take it anymore. My sides still throb from where he kicked me after he got me down on the ground.
I’d barely made it out of there. I swallow a lump that forms in my throat again, shocked that more tears can even break free after how many I’ve cried already. I take a deep breath. I’m sure he’s called the cops by now, if he’s alive.
My heart skips at the thought. I didn’t think the car hit him very hard, but who knows. Would prison be worse than living with that man? I doubt it. I hadn’t seen him come running out of the house after me. Not until I heard the thunk and scream. You have to be alive to yell, right?
I hadn’t cared in the heat of the moment. I just knew I had to get out of there as fast as possible. When I went running out of the house I was thankful that there was even a car there. It was one of his old classics he’s always tinkering with. When I saw the keys hanging in the ignition I knew I had to take the chance to get away.
“Jesus,” I breathe out. I don’t even feel guilty. I just wanted to go. I took as much as I could, filling up one single backpack. The car starts to slide, and I scream, but I somehow get it back under control. I have no idea how to drive. I’ve only ever seen other people do it.
I have no clue where I’m even going. My only plan is to drive. At first, I thought about finding a police officer, but now that I accidently hit my grandfather, I’m not sure what to do. They’d probably never believe me anyway, not with his standing.
My eyes catch the rearview mirror and I see a mark already forming on my cheek. I was shocked when he hit me in the face today. Normally he keeps his blows to areas no one would notice on his granddaughter.
The car slides again. I pull the wheel, trying to right it like before. It isn’t until I slam on the brakes that I realize what a mistake that is. The car pulls to the right, going off the road into the grass. I scream as I plow right into an enormous iron gate. My head hits the steering wheel and pain explodes through me.
Black spots dance in front of my eyes as I try to keep them open. I growl and lean back, bringing my hand to my head and feeling wetness there. When I look at my fingers I see blood. I unbuckle the seatbelt and reach for the door, pushing against it, but it won’t open.
My whole body aches and I start to cry once again. He’s going to find me. He’ll send me back. I know it. I don’t know which was worse: the hospital or my grandfather’s house. The hospital. They were under his thumb just like everyone else was.
I push at the door again as panic grips me. I have to get out of here. I push as hard as I can, but it doesn’t even budge. The black spots dance in my eyes again. Wait, that isn’t a spot. It’s a person on the other side of the gate. I watch the figure move, trying to open the gate. When it doesn’t work, he scales the gate so fast I’m almost sure I passed out for a moment. He lands on the hood of the car.
The figure yells something, but I can’t hear him. I try to respond, but nothing comes out when I open my mouth. Glass shatters moments later and a hooded man comes into view.
“Please,” I beg, but I can’t get the rest of the words out of my mouth. He reaches for me and pulls me from the car. He wraps something around me, shielding me from the rain that is pouring down, and hauls me up into his arms easily. I try and wrap my arms around the man’s neck, but they feel too heavy.
“Please,” I say again.
“I’ve got you, little one.” I lay my head against his shoulder as my eyes fall closed.
“Don’t pass out on me.” I open my eyes and the world around me spins. The jolts to my body soon make me realize he’s running.