GAVIN
Coraline’s desperate voice echoes into my ears. Even though she’s only been in my house for a week, I know her voice like my favorite catchy song that’s stuck in my head; no matter how many times I try to forget the melody, it’s still there. It’s distinct. Light, airy, and sweet.
But she’s also annoyingly stubborn and has a habit of making really stupid decisions, like going against my advice and trying to look for her cell phone that’s most likely buried in feet of snow, broken, or flew out of the car and is on the street she lost control on.
During a record-breaking blizzard. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said lots of wild animals roam my property, but I guess she’s intrigued to challenge me and curious to be eaten.
Her scream sounds more guttural and uneasy with each strangled blare.
There are no words, just sounds of clear desperation and urgency.
I swing my hunting rifle over my shoulder and stalk faster.
The horses should be okay for the rest of the blizzard.
They’re safe, well-fed, and warm. My boots crunch over the thick snow.
I’m wearing my black winter balaclava and winter hunting camo gear.
The visibility is slim to none due to thick white fog. Running through it, I head straight to where I think she is, but then her screams stop, and it gives me a sick sensation in my stomach. Something about how her sounds stopped has me on high alert. Her voice is coming by…
No.
She better not be where I think she is!
My heart sinks, and I begin to run faster. I push through the trees and gaze at the river that is in the corner of my land—the one the horses like to spend time around during the summer. Sure enough, there’s an avalanche of snow burying the car.
She’s in there.
I know she is.
Fucking hell.
This woman really does have a death wish.