A scream for my life.
A hand slams into my hair, yanking me backward so hard my neck whips back. I cry out, stumbling, colliding with a solid chest.
I twist, claw, anything, but he’s already pulling me down. My knees smash against the frozen ground, pain bursting white-hot up my legs.
For a split second I see brown eyes through a ski mask. Familiar? Unfamiliar? My brain scrambles, searching, but I don’t get the chance to decide.
He jerks me sideways and slams me against the ground. The impact rips the air from my lungs, snow burning against my skin. His hand clamps over my mouth, rough and suffocating, pressing until I choke on the taste of leather.
I thrash, nails digging, legs kicking wild. He catches my wrist, twists hard. Pain flares up my arm, and I scream into his palm.
He hits me, a sharp crack against my cheek.
The shock is worse than the pain.
“Shut up,” he snarls, and it’s muffled through the mask.
But I can’t. Won’t.
I slam my head back, bone against bone. He grunts, loosens just enough, and I tear my mouth free. I bite down on his hand, hard, until I taste metal.
He shouts, but shoves me down harder, knee pressing into my stomach until I gag. The cold slices through my clothes, as I claw for anything: his mask, his face, his eyes.
My nails catch skin.
He swears, shoves me sideways, tries to pin me again.
Something primal takes over. My leg jerks up, knee connecting with his ribs. The groan that tears out of him is enough.
Just enough.
I scramble, writhing, dragging myself free inch by inch. My lungs burn, my vision blurs, but I claw at the frozen ground, shove, twist, until somehow, I’m up.
And then I’m running again.
Running barefoot, bloody, shaking, but running.
I don’t know if he’s still behind me. I can’t hear anything. No footsteps. No breathing. Nothing.
But that doesn’t mean he isn’t there.
And I sure as hell don’t stop. Not for anything. Not for the pain ripping up my legs, or the cold tearing at my bare feet, or the fire in my chest.
Time stops making sense. Minutes, hours… it all blurs together, the world narrowing down to one thought:don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.
And then I see it.
The curve of a road I know. The sharp rise of a driveway, pale gravel crunching beneath my steps, and at the end of it, tall black gates.
For a second, I almost sob in relief. The sight knocks the air out of me harder than the running does. My chest squeezes tight, my throat burns, and I could cry if I wasn’t so focused on moving.
Just a little closer.
But my body is shutting down. My vision smears at the edges, everything tilting sideways like the ground is trying to throw me down. The gates blur into nothing more than a smudge of black against white.
Come on. Just a little closer. A little closer, Adeline.
“You are not dying today,” I whisper through clenched teeth, forcing the words out.
