Chapter Forty-One Ana
Chapter Forty-One
Ana
Before—Two Years at The Palace
The truck moved steadily along the highway. The rhythm of the wipers, a swish, then a click, wiping a light snowfall from the windshield. The strong, steady rumble of the engine. Lulling her to sleep.
Bare legs tucked beneath her. The brown coat draped over her body.
Pulled all the way up, covering her face.
And in that sleep, her mind let her forget about everything. Indy. Her mother. Jolene. Even Kayla. It brought her back to another time, when she was a little girl and Tim was a young boy. Before she’d put on a pair of skates and felt the blades take her away.
They were in the back seat of her family’s car.
Carl was driving. Connie was looking out the window for something red.
Then her voice called out, “I spy a red sign!” And then Tim said it didn’t count because the sign wasn’t red; it was green.
It was just the logo for the gas station that had red in it, and that wasn’t the same thing.
And then Connie said, “No fair!” And Carl let out a big laugh.
Ana felt sleepy, too tired to play the game.
Tim popped in his headphones and began tapping his hands on the back of the driver’s seat.
The beat of music she couldn’t hear. A steady ba-dum-dum, ba-dum-dum.
She leaned her head against the window. Her mother saying, “I want a rematch,” as Ana’s eyes got heavy.
She heard her mother’s voice again. “Ana—don’t fall asleep.”
But her eyelids were falling.
Swish. Click. Ba-dum-dum. Ba-dum-dum. Swish. Click.
“Wake up, baby girl.”
She began to rouse as the engine shifted gears and the brakes squeaked. The smell of the coat filling her nostrils. Tobacco and sweat. And pine. Wafting down from the air freshener that hung from the rearview mirror.
She forced open her heavy eyes.
They burned when the air rushed in. Like they were covered with sand.
She rubbed them gently with her fists. Blinked. Then sat up as the truck slowed and then stopped.
They weren’t on the highway.
The headlights shone on a two-lane road surrounded by dense woods on both sides. Not another car in sight.
She told herself it was fine. He’d just pulled over to rest. He’d been so nice to her, and after everything that had happened in the past two years, she thought she knew about people. That she’d learned all the lessons.
Her eyes turned then from the windshield to the man sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Hi there, sleepyhead,” he said, glancing at her with a smile and big black oval eyes.
He reached his hand across the console between them. Placed it gently on her shoulder.
“Did you get a good rest?” he asked. Moving his hand to the back of her head. He took hold of the elastic tie that was holding it in a ponytail and slid it off.
“Look at you,” he said. His eyes widening into circles. “Do you take pretty pills?”
Ana stared at him. Felt the adrenaline burst from the calm, from the sleep that lingered in her muscles and bones. Shock spread across her face, freezing her mouth in a gape. Her eyes in a stare.
This seemed to excite him. Eliciting a suggestive smile.
He tossed the elastic tie to the floor. Returned his hand to her head and ran his fingers through her hair.
“Do you like to party?” he asked.
He leaned closer, grabbing her hair into his fist. His shirt falling open, just at the top, revealing a necklace.
Ana stared at it. The square beads strung tightly together. Just two colors. Black and white.
The pieces coming together.
The smell of pine. The beaded necklace.
The man who’d attacked Kayla in the field two years ago.
She reached for the handle of the door as her mind dug out excuses she’d thought of, just like before. In the field. In the back of the black van.
“I have to pee,” she said, pushing the door open and stumbling out, her skates falling beside her. It was a long way to the ground from the cab of the semi, and by the time she got to her feet and gathered her skates in her hands, he was walking around the front.
“Hey,” he said. “Where you goin’?”
There was nowhere to hide in the bare trees off the side of the road, so she ran. And he chased after her.
Do you like to party? She knew what that meant. What he was going to do when he caught her.
What he had done to Kayla that night in the field.
There was nowhere to go, except deeper into the woods.
And so she ran, with one skate in each hand, the blades cutting into her palms, heart pounding wild in her chest. The sound of the truck driver weaving through the trees, close behind her. The branches snapping. Click. Click. Click.
It’s enough, she thought. Dawn. Emile. Dr. Westin.
She hated them all. Hated herself. But she’d broken free.
And there she’d been, in the cab of the truck, thinking she was finally safe.
That the damage was done, behind her, and now, finally, someone was bringing her home. Taking her away, to safety.
She felt tired. She just wanted to go home to her father, her brother—even if her mother was no longer there. Maybe she would still feel her inside the walls of the house where she was born.
No more. I have to go home.
She stopped running when she felt him closing in. She slipped her hand inside the boot of the skate, the blade angled to strike, just like in the field. Only this time, there was no retreat.
He caught up to her, grabbing her shoulder, spinning her around. For just a moment, he stumbled to his knees.
And that’s when her body took over.
With all the strength and speed she possessed, she swung her arm and felt the blade pierce his skull with a sickening thud.
Rage bursting from her mouth in a primal scream.
Rage for Indy, and Jolene, and Kayla, and for the loss of the wide-eyed girl she’d been when she’d walked through the doors of Avery Hall two years ago.
He reached for her leg, stunned, bleeding. It took two hands to pull out the blade, so the next time she was ready.
One arm to strike, two hands to pull the blade free.
Again and again—four strikes for the four Orphans—until the rage finally left her.