Broken Blood Ties
Prologue
Seven Years Ago
W hat have I done?
She can’t move. She’s too stunned, too shocked by the events of the night.
I did this.
Listening intently, she hears the car door slam and the engine hum to life before driving away, but the crunch of the tires on asphalt will stay with her for years to come.
She lies there, attuned to each breath, punctuated by the occasional snap of twigs to her right. Her head whips toward the sound, but she remains sprawled on her stomach, hands tied beneath her as hopelessness claws its way deeper into the knotted pit of her stomach.
Leaves bunch in her hair and stick to her sequin dress, but she attempts to push back anyway, sliding to her knees with a grunt.
“I’m a coward,” she mumbles, head foggy.
She gnaws at the loosely tied rope around her wrists, finding it easy to break free—they hadn’t cared too much if she escaped, apparently.
Once the rope falls away, she looks up, scanning the limited visibility in front of her. Night bleeds into the woods like squid ink. Disoriented, she can’t make sense of where she is. There are no lights except for the distant flicker of a building through the dense forest. And the air smells pure, unmarred by pollution.
She wobbles, planting one foot flat on the ground while her other knee remains pressed into the dirt as she struggles to find balance. Legs trembling, she stands and looks down at the faint red marks she can just make out.
She wavers a moment, her breaths labored and shallow before straightening. How? How will she ever forgive herself?
What do I do?
Determined, she squares her shoulders and takes off. She runs, the direction irrelevant.
Wind licks at her back as she stumbles over the uprooted trees, but she keeps treading through the forest, rarely glancing up.
With each stride, she whispers to herself, I did this. I did this.
She runs. For her life or her freedom—she doesn’t know. Perhaps it’s because she could never show her face again after what she allowed to happen. Or maybe because this is who she is—leaving others to handle her messes, even though she hates herself for it. But she has to keep running.