“You fucking bitch,” Low roars, gripping my hair in his hands and yanking.
I scream, and in a jerk reaction, I plunge the knife into his other leg, just above his knee. I drop to the floor, shuffling backwards to move out of his way.
“Fuck,” I whisper at the sight of blood.
He sways as he puts one foot forward, before falling to the ground, howling.
I always thought I could stomach defending myself, knowing it would be for the greater good. I mean, life without me would suck. Yet, stabbing someone isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
“Low?” Kyle yells, and I hear him moving through the forest.
Crawling forwards, I reach for the torch, gripping it tight when it slips out of my hand. I flick it off, getting to my feet and wobbling my way into the forest.
As the footsteps grow closer, I begin to run, tripping and smacking into branches. I sashay to the left, slinking further into the darkness.
My feet catch on something and I trip, falling to the ground, my sore hand landing in a pile of stingers.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
I lift myself off the ground, but when I hear movement close by, I drop back down, holding my breath.
To the side, a small flash of light from a phone can be seen.
“Fisher, you need to get back. She’s gone. I am looking.” He pauses mid-step, glancing around. “She stabbed him. Fucking stabbed him. No. He’s knocked out.”
He takes another step away, and I begin to relax, slowly rising to my knees. Twigs snap, echoing around the forest, and I grimace, holding my breath.
Fuck!
There’s a stream close by, I can hear it. All I need to do is get there and follow it downstream, where I’ll be able to find help.
Slowly, I tilt my head to the side, in Kyle’s direction, hoping he hadn’t heard me.
My hope is short-lived when I watch him swivel in my direction, turning on the torch on his phone.
It shines in my direction, and I hear him curse, moving towards me.
“Fuck,” I grouch, blowing out a breath as I get to my feet and push off into a run, Kyle chasing me.
If he doesn’t kill me, running fucking will.
Or I’ll kill him for making me run.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
My lungs burn as I push my legs harder, dodging trees and bushes. There’s no clear path, no guide or trail to follow. And the deeper I push into the forest, the thicker the bushes, stingers and weeds get.
The rain isn’t my friend either. It’s making the ground soggy and my clothes heavy. The only good thing about it is the relief I’m getting from it pouring over my heated body.
I slow into a jog before stopping completely, resting my palms against a tree as I duck my head, panting for air.
Glancing over my shoulder, I scan the area, checking for Kyle. I don’t see him, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t there. He’s fast, too fast. I only managed to escape by zigzagging my way through the forest, hoping by chance he would lose me. He did. But I know it won’t be long until he catches up again.
They always do.
Sliding my back against the tree, I drop to my arse, resting. My eyes close as I take a deep breath in and exhale.
I’m not made for this. I warned my parents when they refused to write a letter to excuse my absence from P.E. that exercise would be the death of me.
I bet they regret calling me dramatic now.
I have never felt intense pain like I do right now in my legs. My thighs are screaming at me to stop, to put them out of their misery. I’m certain I have cramp in my vagina. I hurt all over.
Instinctively, I palm the side of my head, a hiss slipping through my lips at the surge of pain. When I pull away, my hand is covered in blood. It isn’t the only thing bleeding. I must be covered all over with it, and I don’t think all of it is mine. My favourite fucking shirt is not only dirty but splattered in Low’s blood.
I’m never going to get this fucking out. And it isn’t the season to go buy a new one.
I shoot up when the crunch and crack of snapping twigs echoes through the air. My eyes widen as a spot of light in the distance shines. It’s Kyle, still shining the light from his phone.
I am done.
I’m done running.
As quietly as I can, I crawl around the tree, ducking out of sight when his figure becomes more solid.
He’s close, but so is the stream. The whoosh of running water is my only hope. I only have to get to there and I’ll be able to find my way back to a town. There’s no way I’m going to die in the woods because I got fucking lost. That is not how my story is going to end.
“Where the fuck are you?” Kyle roars, and for a second, I think he’s talking to me, but then he continues. “I’m not going down for this, for you. Yeah? Then where the fuck are you? Okay.” He pauses, and I watch him drop the phone to his side, tilting his head back. “Fuck!”
My palms sting as I blindly feel around the ground for a weapon, careful not to make any noise.
I can’t keep outrunning him. My soaked clothes are weighing me down, making it harder to move.
He doesn’t even sound out of breath, whereas my heart is doing overtime, struggling to catch a breath.
I have to fight.
And as much as my dad is going to give me shit for putting myself at risk, he also taught me fight or flight. And right now, it’s fight. All I have to do is injure him enough to slow him down.
Hell, if it wasn’t raining, I’d climb a tree and hide out until my dad got here, but I’m not risking my neck over that whooped ass.
I inwardly groan at my choices of weapon. All I have around me that I could potentially use are sticks, branches, stones, and a shit load of ivy.
I force as many stones into my pockets as I can, which isn’t many, since today, of all days, I decided to wear the tightest pair of fucking jeans I owned.
They couldn’t have kidnapped me on a Simba pyjamas and hoody day?
I want to cheer when my fingers wrap around a thick branch, heavy, yet not so big I can’t lift it up. It’s the perfect size.
Slowly, I get to my feet, using the tree for support, before resting my back against the bark, listening to the sounds of Kyle’s boots drawing closer.
“May the odds be in my favour, motha’ fucka’,” I whisper, barely audible.
It’s his light that shines first, next to where I’m standing, so slowly, I raise the branch over my shoulder.
His footsteps get closer and I hold my breath, my heart raising as I steady my hands. Seconds later, his foot comes into view, crunching down on the leaves and twigs, and I swing the branch with as much force as I can muster, aiming for his face.
A squeak passes through my lips when I step out of hiding and see I only hit his chest.
He looks up, his eyes hard.
“How fucking tall are you?” I snap, swinging the branch again.
He sees it coming this time, catching it in his hand while his other snaps out, gripping around my neck like a vice.
“You silly fucking cunt,” he growls, throwing the branch away.
“Can’t breathe,” I rasp, my toes trying to find purchase on the ground.
This is not how I saw this playing out. Not one single bit.
“I’m going to snap your fucking neck,” he spits, baring his teeth. “That was my cousin you fucking stabbed tonight.”