10. Ten
All too soon the adrenaline has worn off. I have no idea how long it’s been, how far I’ve made it through these trees, but I can feel the evidence of my exertion coating my skin. Beads of sweat drip down my spine even in the brisk morning air. Grime has built up on my feet, my legs, caking into cuts from branches and missed steps on sharp rocks.
Blind hope and determination pushed me through the first span of this incredibly dense forest, but now I have no idea what direction I came from or where to go.
I’m panting, my speed slowing enough that I’m moving no faster than a brisk walk. Every time I pass a thicket, I’m presented with another, somehow less clear, path forward.
The oversized shirt that they had put on my unconscious body is giving me no protection from the branches and thorns that gouge into me with every turn. Every step forward is met with a dull ache of pain on my increasingly raw feet. Each stab of pain reminds me of hundreds of others I’ve felt through the years, and it spurs me on. I can handle so much more than this. I just have to keep moving, but I need to stop and breathe.
I’ve never had to run so soon after a death and my body isn’t ready for it yet. I desperately draw the damp air into my aching lungs, bending forward and resting my hands on my knees.
How long have I been running?
How much longer do I have before this man hunts me down and drags me back to do the job he has laid out for me?
What even is it?
Could it be any worse than being stuck in these woods for the rest of my life? Or John tracking me down and dragging me back?
The thought opens a pit in my stomach and suddenly my ragged breath isn’t the hindrance it was before.
I start moving again. Step by step, building up my momentum until I feel like I’m flying through the forest. I’m making good progress and getting more and more confident I’ll be able to get away, when that thought comes back.
How bad can it really be?
Could they do anything to me I haven’t already suffered through?
As if the universe heard my thoughts, my foot catches on a fallen branch and the earth comes rushing up to me. A pop followed by a blinding pain comes from my left wrist, and I know it’s broken before I even look at it. I know the feeling of broken bones, and I”m too familiar with the pain to mistake it for anything else. Gingerly, I roll onto my back and stare up at the patches of sky breaking through the trees, holding my now useless arm to my chest.
What am I supposed to do?
I know I need to keep it in the right position to make sure my bones heal right, but I always just woke up with a cast, I never saw how it was done. I never needed to know how to recreate it.
I have earned a moment’s rest, at the very least, to strategize my next moves.
Earned.
The word pings in my brain, not letting me divert my attention. Earned. That’s what he said, right? I can earn my freedom. Earn my escape?
My ears perk at the sound of a branch snapping somewhere nearby. Everything around me slows, the intricate details of the forest becoming more distinct and vivid, as a new wave of adrenaline rushes through me.
There’s a predator out there. An animal, hungry for my flesh, or a man determined to drag me back to that house kicking and screaming. It’s strange to think I’m only truly afraid of one of those outcomes.
The radiating pain in my wrist gets pushed to the side with the burst of energy, and every thought, every intention is back on moving through the trees. I shove the memories of snapping jaws and sour snarling breath aside and force down the bile trying to rise.
I have to keep moving.
It only takes a second to roll to the side and pull my feet under me before I can set off again. I sail past bushes and brambles, no longer caring how they catch and tear my skin, and I vault over fallen trees without a moment’s hesitation. I don’t hear anything approaching me, but I don’t slow down. I refuse to turn and check for a pursuer until the silence and stillness behind me feels more real. More permanent. I skid to a stop behind the trunk of a huge tree, using it as cover while I decide if I should continue straight or try to throw off Dane or a possibly hungry animal by taking a less obvious route.
Distance. If I can put as much space as possible between us, eventually they’d give up, right? Unlikely, but there’s a shot. I haul off. At least, I attempt to.
I only make it one step before a large hand clamps down on my shoulder, its thumb pressed firmly against the back of my neck. My breath freezes in my chest, and Dane yanks me back.
An eternity passes between the moment he grabs me and the sensation of being enveloped. A warm, strong arm, bands across my chest and holds me with an unyielding grip against an equally warm, and solid torso.
Instinct takes over.
I scream and thrash, fighting against him with everything I have. Each time I drag my nails across his skin, or kick back at his shins, I get absolutely no response. Nothing. It’s like trying to fight a wall. I’m throwing everything I have at him, and he doesn’t even have the decency to grunt.
My body goes weightless as he turns, swinging me around and forcing me against the tree that had just been my solace. One of my knees scrapes on the rough bark while his hand grips the back of my head, pushing my cheek into the grooves of the wood. The forced position isn’t painful, but it’s firm, giving me no room to effectively fight against him. He’s in control now, and he wants to make sure I understand that.
His body crowds mine, and I can feel how ragged his breathing has become. “Good effort, Bambi, but not good enough.”
“Fuck you.” I spit out the words, frustrated when they come out slightly muffled, the force of the tree against my face garbling my speech.
He laughs, and my blood boils. I try to kick back at him, but I can’t get my foot to connect, the position is too awkward.
“That was a fun little excursion, but it’s over now.” He grips my waist and whirls me around, the air forced out of my lungs when I’m pressed back against the tree, cemented in place with his hand flat against my chest. His thumb rubbing idly at the base of my neck. “Are you going to be good for me and walk back, or am I going to have to carry you?”
Between his words, the waning adrenaline, and whatever his thumb is doing to me, my brain short circuits. I don’t understand the fluttering sensation in my stomach, and I can only stare at him, lost in the way his eyes are alight with victory, while he waits for my response.
He sighs and drops his head forward, likely interpreting my silence as obstinance. “Have it your way.”
He bends down and throws me over his shoulder with too much ease for my liking. One of his arms bands around the back of my knees and he doesn’t take a second to adjust my weight before he’s stomping off. He moves through these woods in the same way I’m sure he moves through life, expecting total obedience, even from the vegetation.
It strikes me how his commanding energy, that demand for control, is so similar to how John moved through the facility. Everything needed to be to his precise specifications, everyone needed to follow his instruction. Sure, I’m slung over Dane’s shoulder, having been successfully shown how futile escape would be, but John would never have handled an attempt this way. This is much more personal. Much more human.
A breeze drifts over me and I’m immediately aware that I’m dangerously close to being exposed.
I’m not wearing any underwear.
I’m no stranger to nudity, not uncomfortable with it in the clinical surroundings of the facility, but here, slung over Dane’s shoulder and being marched towards two more strange men… I”m not okay with this.
The hem of the shirt rises higher and higher with every step he takes, and a new panic starts to rise in my chest. I wriggle, trying to angle my good arm enough to adjust the shirt, but I can’t reach it.
His steps don’t falter, and I’m sure he thinks I’m trying to break free of his powerful grip until I feel a tug on my shirt, the fabric pulling and stretching over my butt.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice is barely above a whisper, so faint he might not have heard it. He doesn’t respond, but he also doesn’t let go of the hem of the shirt. He’s still holding it taut over me, his thumb absentmindedly brushing in small arcs across the skin on my upper thigh.
Something in his gesture makes me rethink everything since waking up this morning. They’ve had every opportunity to hurt me, yet here I am. The only injuries I have are self inflicted, and he’s keeping me covered while he carries me back toward the other men.
Is there a chance this might not be so bad?
It feels like we’ve been continuing like this for a while, but I don’t know exactly how far we’ve gone, or how long we’ve been in the woods. Thankfully, he seems to know the terrain well, otherwise I would have never found my way back to the house, even if I wanted to. Everything looks the same to me, the trees, the fallen branches, the patches of dirt unclaimed by the hundreds of plants that call this forest their home.
The sound of an engine breaks the silence as Dane brings us both into the clearing. “That’s Silas,” he grunts without breaking stride.
I look up to find a truck pulling through a narrow split in the trees. Of course, the driver, Silas, appears to be another massive man. His shoulders are broad and it looks like he’s got long hair, but it’s hard to tell much more from the reflected sky on the windshield.
When he turns slightly to park I can finally see better, and we make direct eye contact. A look of shock passes quickly across his face before his features are wrangled into what can only be described as a scowl. He breaks the eye contact as he cuts the engine, but I can’t look away. His strong jaw, his tan skin, his strong nose. It all works together to hold my focus.
“Tucker!” Dane calls across the clearing, the volume of his shout startling me. Dane bends and sets me down, despite how gentle the movement is, my raw feet bark in pain when they press into the hard packed dirt. It’s far from the worst pain I’m dealing with right now, so I smother any reaction, instead choosing to focus on cradling my hand against myself.
Tucker and Ray must have been waiting at the kitchen table for us to come back. They’re both out the door in seconds, both looking relieved to see me standing here.
They thought I was going to get away.
Dane squares his stance when he looks at them. “Tucker, get her cleaned up. Ray, help Silas get her shit into Tuck’s room, and for fuck’s sake, make sure she doesn’t have access to a goddamn gun again.”
Fear flashes over Tucker’s face at the reminder.
“Yeah. We’re not forgetting that part. Find me in an hour,” Dane snaps, before stalking off around the side of the house.
“Oh, and splint her damn wrist!” he calls over his shoulder.
The pain flares again now he’s called attention to the break. I had no idea he noticed it. Something warms in my chest, and I”m shocked he’s making sure it’s being taken care of. Odd.
Tucker takes a couple of tentative steps towards me. We’re alone now, the others having split off to follow Dane’s directions. He opens his mouth, as if he’s about to say something, but thinks better of it, his jaw snapping shut. Despite his reluctance to speak, there’s a look on his face that somehow manages to convey both hope and regret.
I look away, refusing to waste another second on staring at him. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the only one who’s lied to me, and I’ll be damned if I wait around to give him another opportunity.
With a resigned sigh, he jerks his head towards the door, waiting for me to go first before following me inside.