We should have made rules, tough rules, thrown in some legal jargon orsomething!
I push onto my back and adjust a little until I’m floating in the middle of the plunge pool, staring up at a clear blue sky. It feels like a promise of summer, a long, warm summer, and it gets me excited. This town comes alive in those few short months.
At the shore, I hear a branch snap and immediately right myself, treading water as I search the trees that surround me. I don’t see anything or anyone, but I definitely heard it. It could have been an animal, but worry runs through me regardless. I swear I hear shuffling too, like earth and old leaves moving, but I still see nothing.
If it were Roman, he would have shown himself. To the left, another branch snaps, and I spin in that direction the best I can, spotting what looks like a man passing between the trees. He’s too far away to make out anything more than a simple silhouette, dark clothing...
“Hello?” I call, my voice cracking just a touch. I suddenly feel exposed, vulnerable, two things I have never felt being here, not even when Roman caught me out here the first time or when he watched me. “Who’s there?”
They move again, quicker, not even attempting to be quiet. My heart starts to pound, and real, heavy fear floods through me. It tightens my gut, constricts my throat, lodging a scream there.
I can’t tell whether they’re moving away or coming closer. It’s definitely a person, no animal moves like that.
But what do I do? Where is safe? They have eyes on me, they’ll see whichever way I go. The falls to hide? They’ll see it. To the shore? They could be right there waiting. And if I remain in the middle, in the open, I’m basically a target. What if they have a gun?
I don’t know what to do.
Nothing that happened was an accident.
Shit.
I watch the person move again, darting away, further into the trees and toward the boundary line next to the road. My eyes stay on him for as long as they can, until he becomes a blur in the trees and all the shapes around him look the same.
A quietness forms once more, but I hear everything. The rustle of the leaves as they sway with the wind, the roar of the falls, the gentle lapping of water at the banks of the pool. I don’t dare move. Instead, I scan the trees, over and over again, until the cold sets into my bones and my fingers prune, my muscles screaming for relief. I don’t know how much time passes, but fear keeps me here, regardless.
The mind plays tricks on you when you’re scared, so what if this is a trick? What if they didn’t leave? I can’t keep this up much longer. I’m a great swimmer, but treading water is tiring, and I’m already faltering.
Nothing else has happened, no new branches snapping or movement in the trees. I have to risk it, or I’ll drown. I don’t particularly like either option, but there’s only one choice. I have to get out of the water.
Taking a deep breath in the hopes it’ll help my nerves, I swim toward my clothes at the water's edge. There’s no grace to it, it’s water splashing and kicking as I try to keep my eyes clear so I can see any waitingthreat. I swim until I can’t physically swim anymore, the gritty bed of the pool scratching against my legs and hands, and lift to stand, my arms coming around myself like a shield. Still, I watch, looking for movement, but I’m also searching for a weapon. A thick branch or a rock I could use to defend myself.
Grabbing my towel from the bag, I wrap it around myself, but I don’t get dressed or dry off. Once I’ve shoved everything back into my bag, I hoist it onto my shoulder and then pick up the rock I’d chosen as a weapon. It’ll do if I need something, stun them enough that I might be able to escape.
My sneakers rub at the backs of my ankles, the mix of wet and skin and rough fabric leaving a sore spot behind. None of that matters.
I’m about halfway out of the woods when the hair on the nape of my neck stands on end and a branch snaps behind me.
“Fuck,” I hiss, taking off in a run. Behind me, they do the same.
No. No.
Shit.
I drop my bag and clutch the rock, a scream bubbling up in my throat. Panic and fear make me want to both run and fall at the same time. I can see the break in the trees up ahead, the ranch right there, but it looks so far away. Part of me wants to look behind me, to see what I’m up against, but I know better. That will only slow me down. I could trip, fall and then I’ll live up to every horror movie where the main character does that exact same thing, and we all sit and yell at the TV screen, asking them how they could be so stupid.
I’m soclose.So close.
A man steps out onto the trail right in front of me, and I don’t have time to dodge them. We collide in a mess of limbs and screams, landing on the forest floor hard.
“Help me!”My voice rips out of my throat, the sound so loud it stirs birds from the branches above.
Arms tighten around me, pinning me down. Fighting is useless; they’re heavy and strong, andI can’t fucking move.
“Please,” I cry, struggling in their hold, “Please don’t.”
Chapter 20
“Niamh,” She writhes in my arms, jostling my body and my ribs. Pain is a throb that matches the frantic beats of my heart, but I don’t care about that right now. I’ll deal with whatever damage happens once I have her calmed down. “Sweetheart, it’s me!”
