Prologue #3
I see the flash of bloody silver, and then I hear Lucy gasp, my scream tears through the cabin. For one impossible second, she stays exactly where she is, her hand still reaching for mine, but then her arm goes limp, her fingers slip to the floor, and everything stops.
I can't hear Lucy, I can't hear myself, I can only hear the blood rushing in my ears.
“Shit. Look what you’ve done.” He stares down at her for a long moments, then he wipes the blade on his jeans and walks to the door, not looking at me again. Easily dismissed.
I crawl to Lucy on shaking hands.
"No." My voice is barely a whisper. I reach for her hand. "Lucy?"
I know she isn't going to answer, I know, but I can't stop myself. I take her still-warm hand anyway, holding it between both of mine like I can somehow stop this from being real.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
The words break something inside me; a sob tears out of my chest. I stay there crying over my sister for a long moment, until her voice comes back to me, clear as if she's kneeling beside me.
When you get out of here... live enough for both of us.
I squeeze my eyes shut. "No." Another sob escapes me. "I can't."
The words echo around the empty cabin, no reply comes, just silence.
Lilah, get up. Run.
My gaze drops to the blood soaking through my shirt, then to the rope still hanging from my wrist.
Lucy didn't die so I could stay here; she died so I could leave, live. My fingers shake as I tear the remaining rope free. Every movement pulls at the wound in my side, sending sharp pain through my body, but I force myself to keep going.
I free my ankles. Pushing myself upright on unsteady legs, the room tilts, and I manage to catch myself on the wall before I fall.
Don't look back, because if I do look at her again, I won't leave.
I press my hand against my side, swallowing the cry threatening to escape, and stumble toward the back of the cabin. There’s a small window and see that it’s unlocked.
I hear Evan's voice from outside on the front porch, hopefully far enough away that I still have a chance. I go through the window feet first, then run the second my feet hit the ground.
The woods tear at me, branches raking across my arms and face, some thorns catch my bare feet, and every step sends pain exploding through my side where Evan stabbed me. Warm blood soaks my shirt and slips between my fingers no matter how hard I press against it.
I fall, and I push myself back up, but I fall again, slamming my knee hard enough to make my vision blur. For a second, I can't feel my leg, but then the pain comes roaring back.
I force myself up anyway. Lucy told me to run, so I’ll run.
I don't know how long I run through the trees—long enough for the black sky to fade to gray, long enough that every breath feels like someone's driving the knife back into my side, and long enough that my feet stop hurting because they've gone completely numb.
Every sound makes me flinch: twigs snapping, leaves rustling, and the wind through the trees. Each time, I think it's him until I'm too tired to care.
Eventually, the trees begin to thin, and I see a road; I almost cry.
I stumble toward it, my legs shaking so badly I don't know how they're still holding me up. The second my feet hit the asphalt, they give out; I hit the ground hard, my palms scraping against the rough surface.
For a long time, I don't move, I just lie there, dragging air into burning lungs. I'll get up, I just... I need one more second.
The sound reaches me before I see them; an engine, and then another. Low and steady.
My body reacts before my mind catches up. No. No, no, no.
I shove against the road, trying to get to my feet, but my knee buckles beneath me. Pain tears through my side as I collapse again. I start crawling, the rough asphalt tears at my palms, but I don't stop.
The sound of engines means he found me. I'm not going back. I won’t.
Motorcycles come around the bend, and I hear their brakes squeal followed by the engines cutting out.
I hear boots hitting the ground. I flinch.
"Easy," a man's voice says, calm and steady. "Nobody's going to hurt you."
I force my head up and see a huge man standing a few feet away, a leather cut stretched across broad shoulders. He doesn't come any closer; instead, he slowly crouches, leaving enough space that I don't feel trapped.
"You're safe," he says.
Safe. The word doesn't mean anything anymore.
"He'll come back." My voice is barely more than a rasp. "He... he'll come back."
His expression hardens. "Who will?"
"Evan." Saying his name makes my stomach turn. "He has a knife and... and a gun." My words tumble over each other. "You have to leave. Please... just go."
The man glances toward the tree line, but when he looks back at me, something has changed, not with fear, but with calculation.
"Nobody's going anywhere," he says quietly. "Can you tell me your name?"
My name? I stare at him, and for a second... I can't remember it.
The world tilts, the trees blur together, and the last thing I see is him looking back toward the woods, his jaw set, as another biker reaches for the radio clipped to his vest. Then everything disappears.
I don't remember hitting the ground; the only thing I remember is hoping the man who found me wasn't a monster too.