Thump.
Thump.
I struggle with the next board. I realize it isn’t going to budge, so I move on to the next one and start to pull. The wood groans, and the slam of his heavy feet against the floor has me panicking. If he sees I’m trying to escape, he will kill me.
Splinters spread into my hand, and my fingers sting.
“No, come on, come on.” Tears drip from my eyes from the fear caving in. I’m going to get caught. The door slams open, hitting the wall, and dust flies into the air. The board in my hand gives and rips away, creating a hole big enough for me to slide through.
His deep voice booms behind me. “And where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you.” His laugh is sardonic, leaving my skin in goose bumps.
My body is half outside, and the cool air has my skinny body shivering. The man’s hand grips my ankle and yanks me inside the room again, throwing me against the cot. My head hits the wall, and he chuckles again. “I was wondering when the fight in you would return. I’ve missed it. I thought I would have to kill you tonight and move on to my next target, but I see I was wrong.” He unbuttons his pants, and I see his erection straining to get out. “You’re mine, girl.” He backhands me across the face, busting my lip wide open, and with his other hand, he grabs my breast. “Forgot how good you feel. I bet you’re hungry.” He flicks his thumb over my nipple. “I know I am.”
My eyes fall between his legs, and one of the boards is lying on the floor. If I can get to that and figure out a way to protect myself with it, I might have a chance. “Get your hands off me,” I whisper weakly with no venom, but I lift my leg and shove my foot in his groin as hard as I can. His hand releases my hair, and he stumbles back, cupping his cock in pain.
It’s the second I need.
I dip to the left and run around him, grabbing the plank at the last second as he turns around. His hands go for my throat, and I lift the board through the air and smash it across his head. He loses his footing again while holding the new wound on his head. A bit of blood trickles down his temple, and I’m not sure what comes over me, but I swing it again.
And again.
Next, I swing so hard that when the board hits his face, it snaps in half. He falls like a giant tree, and I want to yell timber as he crashes against the flimsy cot, breaking it with his fat body. He groans, holding a hand to his broken nose. “You fucking bitch,” he slurs.
“Fuck. You.” I lift the board again and drive it into his thigh, hearing the flesh tear open even over his screams.
Yeah, how does it feel to constantly be in pain, you twisted, sick bastard?
I don’t waste another second. I bolt, squeezing myself out of the hole in the wall and jump down. The fall is about five feet, and my ankle twists in the wrong direction as I land. I hiss, but I’ve endured worse. I limp as fast as I can and get the hell out of there. I have no idea where I’m going, but anywhere is better than the hellhole I’ve been in for the last year or so. What if it has been longer?
I don’t know. I can’t think too hard on that. If I do, I’ll get lost in why I haven’t tried to save myself sooner. It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that I’m free, and if I don’t hurry, he might find me.
The sun is setting, the night is getting cool, and I hear the sound of a stream. I stumble across broken tree branches and leaves as I trudge deeper into the forest. The dirt is wet and cold beneath my toes as they seep into the soil. The warmth of the sun is gone, replaced by the canopy of the Pines and Redwood trees. They are so tall; I can’t even see the sky.
“When I find you, I’m going to kill you!” my captor roars from the distance, and the anger in his voice has me quickening my steps.
My hands lay on the tree trunks for support. I walk through plants and brush that I don’t know the names of and hope they’re not poisonous. What is the rule about poison ivy and oak again? I can’t remember. I wipe my cheek when a tear falls, and I step over a log. Looking around, I try not to get overwhelmed by the darkness closing in. The trees look like people, and I’m startled every time I see one out of the corner of my eye.
“It’s just you. You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.” My stomach cramps with hunger, and my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth from thirst. I’m going to die here, and some animal is going to feast on my body.
Better feed a wild wolf or mountain lion or something than be in the hands of a real monster.
My feet ache. I’m not sure how long I’ve been walking, but I can hear my teeth clattering together. I lean against a tree and decide to take a small break. I’ll be fine.
I’ve come this far. I can’t give up now.
Three
Owen
The deer is roasting over the fire, at last, and I’m filthy from head to toe. I’ve rubbed dirt all over my body, and I’ve been hunkered down on the ground for a day, waiting for the perfect doe or buck to walk through. After shooting the doe, I skinned it, and now I’m covered in blood.
I’m usually always covered in blood when I go back to the Cliff House, but I’m staying out here a few days. Being around people when I’m depressed only makes me feel worse because I can’t muster up the energy to give a shit about anyone around me or what they have to say.
The woods, getting lost, it’s exactly what I need right now.
I grab the stick and turn the deer carcass over the fire and stand, my knees popping as I do. My lower back twinges, and I groan, twisting and stretching until it pops. “I’m getting too old for this shit.” I am old. Older than everyone at the Cliff House.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing at the Cliff House anymore. I don’t belong there. I belong here, away from people and living out my days in solitude. Live alone. Die alone.