Within seconds, the knife I was hiding in my jeans, is biting through the thick rope, severing it string by string until my foot is finally released and I break free.
Above me, I can vaguely see the boat fleeing the scene, the wake of its treachery fading into the distance.
They don’t see me break the surface, or the desperate strokes I make to get to the closest shore.
Once there, I collapse, exhaustion replacing adrenaline, my breaths barely hanging on.
I know I can’t stay here, for fear they’ll see me alive, so I break into a chaotic sprint, tripping over logs and branches until I make it to a camp nearby.
The four girls there stare at me with wide eyes, taking in my drizzled appearance and the markings around my throat.
“Help!” I whisper, dropping to my knees in front of their fire, my bones chattering beneath my skin as I desperately try to ward off the hypothermia sinking in.
“Oh my goodness!” one of them cries, immediately covering me with a blanket. “Girl, what on earth happened to you?”
“He—” There’s a shaky pause, a stuttering breath, and moments of shame as I stare at their frightened faces, not knowing who I can trust.
“I need to get to Fernley.”
“Girl, you need to get to a hospital and to talk to the police!” a girl with long braids and a magnetic smile says, pressuring me toward the car.
“No!” I scream. “No cops. They can’t be involved. They’ll kill me if I get anyone involved.”
“Who will kill you?” another girl questions, this one with fiery red hair with orange highlights and way too many piercings.
“My ex… his club… the Italian Mob.”
One girl with spectacles, pushes them up her nose and slightly turns her head to look at me. “Guys, this seems like a trick.”
They nod their heads in agreement.
“Yeah, I’m not sure about this,” a blonde one agrees, suddenly hugging herself.
“Then if you won’t take me. Can I borrow your phone?”
The girl with the braids hands me her phone, all shakes and nerves. “H—Here. Just don’t steal it.”
It’s crazy that I have his number memorized. I hate him. I hate everything about him, but he’s the only person I can trust to keep me safe.
It rings twice before he answers.
“This better be fucking good,” he grumbles, his voice sleepy and grumpy at the same time.
“We—Wesley,” I whisper, barely able to get his name out before second guessing it.
“Yeah, who wants to know?”
“I need help,” I whisper, still unsure why I’m turning to him of all people.
“Who is this?” he asks, the bed creaking in the background behind him.
When I don’t immediately answer, my name leaves his lips in stammers. “Poppy? Poppy is that you?”
“Y—Yes,” I admit, though it breaks everything inside of me to do so. “I need you, Wesley. I need you to protect me.”
“Poppy, what the hell is going on?”
“Please,” I beg. “Just come get me. I know I’ve betrayed you in the past, but you’re the only person I can trust right now. If you don’t help me, they’ll kill me, this time for real.”
