Chapter One #3
As the hours ticked by, the room felt smaller and smaller until she thought it might swallow her up. The silence pressed in on her until she couldn’t hear anything but her own heartbeat. She had to do this. She couldn’t stay still if she wanted to survive.
The room was dark, but there was enough moonlight to attempt what she had planned. She slipped behind the bed and inched it slowly toward the window, wincing at every soft scrape on the wooden floorboards. When it was finally in place, she lifted the chair and balanced it on top of the mattress.
She grabbed the tray left from supper and climbed onto the wobbly chair. Her knees shook as she steadied herself. With both hands, she raised the tray over her head and swung.
The crash was deafening.
Glass shattered outward, scattering across the ground below.
Cold air rushed in, but she didn’t feel it.
She dropped the tray and hoisted herself up, grateful for all the years she’d spent working hard on the farm.
It gave her the strength she needed. She ignored the sting as broken bits of glass sliced into her palms.
Her mind was focused on squeezing through the narrow opening, not the frame scraping her ribs or the glass cutting her hands and shredding her sleeves. Then, finally, she was through.
She hit the ground hard. Pain shot up her leg, but she forced herself to stand.
Shouts erupted inside the house.
“She’s out!”
“Get her!”
Abby ran.
She didn’t think. She just ran. Her skirts tangled around her legs, slowing her, but she gathered them in her fists and pushed forward. The yard blurred around her. The barn loomed to her right. A line of trees stretched ahead.
She aimed for the trees.
Boots pounded the porch behind her. They were too close, far too close. She ran harder. Her ragged breath tore in and out of her chest. Her lungs were burning, and her heart hammered so violently, she thought it might burst.
She stumbled over a rock, pitching forward, but caught herself with a gasp and kept going. Don’t fall. Don’t fall. The thought bounced around in her skull with every frantic step.
Branches whipped at her face as she plunged into the trees. The forest swallowed her up. Shadows closed around her like a trap. Her legs shook, but she forced them to move faster. She couldn’t stop. Because stopping meant dying.
A gunshot cracked through the night.
She flinched so hard she nearly lost her footing. Her ears rang. Her mouth went dry. She ducked instinctively, her heart slamming against her ribs.
Bark exploded from the tree beside her, spraying her cheek with splinters.
They were shooting at her! These weren’t warning shots. They weren’t meant to scare her. They meant to kill her!
A cold wave of terror surged through her, but she didn’t dare look back. If she did, she knew she’d freeze with fear. And that would be the end of her.
She veered left, plunging deeper into the woods until her breath became ragged gasps. Her vision blurred. She could hear them behind her—crashing through the brush, shouting orders.
“Spread out!” she heard someone say.
“She can’t have gotten far!” That sounded like Edmund.
Abby pushed herself harder, stumbling down a slope slick with pine needles. At the bottom lay a narrow creek. She could hear the water rushing over jagged stones.
Without thinking, she splashed into the water and kept going.
The cold water numbed her legs, but she pushed herself onward, following the creek downstream. The water got deeper until it nearly reached the tops of her legs. Her skirts grew heavy with water, dragging at her until, finally, she hid behind a large boulder to catch her breath.
On the bank, she could hear the men shouting in confusion.
“Where’d she go?” It was that same voice again.
A new voice replied, “She has to be here!”
Abby pressed herself against the boulder, her chest heaving and water soaking her to the bone. She waited until the voices faded and she was sure she was alone again.
Only then did she drag herself out of the creek and stumble onward, deeper into the forest, away from the house. Away from Edmund and the life he’d tried to force upon her.
Her hands bled.
Her legs shook.
Her breath came in painful bursts.
But she didn’t stop.
She couldn’t.
But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Every step felt like it might be her last, but stopping wasn’t an option. The moment she slowed, even a little, she could almost feel their hands closing around her again.
Her mouth was so dry she could barely swallow, and her vision blurred around the edges. But she went on, stumbling, gasping, and half-sobbing for air.
Because if she stopped, they’d find her.
And she knew with a certainty that chilled her straight through that if they caught her, she’d never get away again.
They’d make sure of it. The thought clawed at her, urging her to run harder, faster, even as her body threatened to give out.
She wasn’t just running for her life. She was running for the last scrap of freedom she might ever have.