Chapter 34
Roni
Hours later, after every other girl has been chased down and hauled back to their confinements, I stand alone beneath the glaring spotlight once more.
My heart races, and I look down to confirm my cross trainers are laced and ready.
The front of the cage stands wide open, an unexpected measure of hope.
In situations where fortune smiles on me, like stumbling upon a roll of loose cash on the street, I usually pause.
I scan my surroundings, searching for an explanation, a reason why I am the chosen one.
But this time is different. The moment the slimy henchmen release their grip on me, I don't hesitate.
I launch myself forward, breaking free from my prison with the swiftness of a wild creature tasting freedom for the first time.
The building looms behind me. A gothic monstrosity silhouetted against the pre-dawn sky.
An abbey or church with crumbling stone walls and broken stained-glass windows which once filtered colorful light onto the faithful.
Something once sacred, where men and women brought their innocent children to be baptized in holy water and to relinquish their sins in hushed confessionals.
Now it's just a house of horrors. Its hallowed halls echoing with screams instead of prayers.
As I pass the first row of ancient pines, their bark rough against my shoulder, I remember my very first release here.
I stumbled out, disoriented by the vastness of the night, confused by the symphony of crickets and rustling leaves, unsure which way to run.
The man who won me, his breath hot with whiskey and excitement, caught up to me in no time, pressed my naked body against a tree until the bark bit into my spine, and shoved his calloused fingers into me, priming me for reasons I'll never understand.
His eyes, cold and hungry behind his mask, never cared how I felt.
But that's not going to happen tonight. No, tonight, live or die, will be my last in this situation.
I know I can't simply go straight ahead.
That never works. Going straight in any one direction is predictable and costly.
It's too obvious. If the ground beneath me is smooth and worn, I must change course.
Because smooth ground means well-traveled ground.
It means it's a trail carved by the footsteps of others.
It means it's somewhere they've been or where they're going to be, waiting in the shadows with their nets and ropes and cruel intentions.
And I don't want to be found. Not when freedom tastes so close I can almost swallow it.
I bank off to my right and start running as fast as I can through a carpet of brittle sticks, decaying leaves, and sharp pine needles.
The crackling and crunching beneath my soles are tiny explosions in the silence of the night air.
My lungs burn with each gasping breath, acid building in my muscles, but I don't dare slow down.
The forest swallows me whole, a willing accomplice to my escape.
Faint moonlight filters through the canopy above, casting long, skeletal shadows across the forest floor seeming to claw at my ankles as I pass.
I dodge between massive trunks, their bark black in the darkness.
My bare shoulders occasionally clip the rough surface, sending jagged splinters of pain through my already raw, aching body.
The wee-hour’s breeze fills my lungs with the scent of damp earth.
I'm lucky the sky stretches clear and vast above the treetops, the natural light bathing everything in an ethereal glow which turns the forest into a ghostly labyrinth of shadow and light.
I was right to forego a flashlight. A beam of artificial light would cut through the darkness like a beacon, drawing their hungry eyes straight to me, marking me for recapture.
It would mean rough hands pinning me down, somebody forcing their pathetic dick inside me, tearing me open while I choke on my own screams. Me being fucked into submission.
I can't do that again. The visceral memory of it makes me run faster, my feet barely touching the ground now as I fly between the trees like a hunted deer. Because that's what I am. Prey.
I approach a short rock wall, its rough surface illuminated by the night sky. I hurdle it with surprising ease. My breasts bounce wildly, painfully slapping against my chest, and my bare skin tingles with chills. But at least the elements aren't shredding the soles of my feet.
I'm not built for speed or endurance. Yet, tonight, as I run for my life, I transform into a warrior.
Adrenaline is lava coursing through my veins, igniting every fiber of my being.
My ordinary legs become powerful cylinders, propelling me forward, while my weakening lungs continue their fight.
Every muscle screams in protest but dutifully complies.
Fear, it turns out, is the ultimate performance enhancer.
Ahead of me, a narrow path emerges, twisting through the dense undergrowth like a serpent.
I make a sharp left turn, my feet barely touching the ground as I propel myself forward.
Branches swing down, their rough surfaces grazing my bare skin, while leaves whip my face, leaving stinging welts.
My mind is a blur, focused solely on the relentless rhythm of motion.
Going and going. I am determined to make it, to outrun whatever fate pursues me.
The path widens slightly, and I dare a quick glance over my shoulder.
Behind me, the darkness stretches like an endless void, concealing whatever might be lurking within its depths.
Just because I can't see them doesn't mean they're not there.
They could be tracking me silently, their footsteps as soft as whispers on the forest floor, taking their time because they know these woods intimately.
The sound of my own heartbeat reverberates in my ears like a relentless drum, momentarily drowning out all other noises until I force myself to listen for any signs of pursuit.
Somewhere in the distance, a twig snaps.
A sharp and sudden break in the quiet. It could be a harmless animal, or it could be them. I can't afford to take any chances.
A clearing emerges ahead, and I pause at the edge, aware crossing this open expanse will leave me utterly exposed. But the alternative is unthinkable. I sprint across the open space, feeling acutely naked and vulnerable under the sky’s cold, unforgiving gaze.
And it happens. A man steps out in front of me—the man I was falling for before all this horror consumed me.
His silhouette’s solid and imposing against the pre-dawn backdrop.
And there’s no mask. I can see his bearded face and blue eyes even through the dull night light.
His broad shoulders cast shadows which ripple across the ground, and he stands there, simply observing me, taking in every detail.
I must be quite a sight. A completely naked woman in some sneakers, racing through the woods like a wild creature.
That’s when I call to him before my body gives way to exhaustion.
“Phoenix?”