I wasn’t sure what the hell was happening, but it scared me. Everything scared me; the switch in Hell, how he went from promising protection to trying to kill me. The rapid switching between him and Woodrow, and the destruction of the kitchen because of it.
The kitchen glowed in a new orange light, as a blaze swallowed up the curtains and the wooden pole they were attached to.
I stood for a moment, still and silent, and in shock with all I’d gone through today.I watched as the fire grew, swallowing the oily scent of lavender the candle once showcased and all of the kitchen furniture. Woodrow pulled open the door beneath the staircase, blocking the sight of it.
The air escaped my lungs, and it didn’t return until I was gasping for breath, my hand on my chest trying to coax my lungs to allow me to breathe in the toxic air.
“Woodrow.” I shook my head in disbelief as he stood in front of me with a shotgun pointed at me, extra shells that he wouldn’t need to kill me, draped around his body.
“Run,” was the word to rush from his mouth first. “Run fast.”
It was a cruel taunt that I thought only Hell was capable of, because Woodrow knew I couldn’t run, not with my leg or stomach hurting me the way they were.
I didn’t hang around to beg or question him.
I turned, not wanting to see the look in his pretty eyes as he ended my life, because his gun was already correctly aimed, judging by what I’d seen in movies. Pressed snuggly against his shoulder, his cheek to the weld, and his feet shoulder width apart.
I rushed out, yanking open the doors as I ignored the rush of feet moving down the stairs.
I heard Ville tell someone else, “You catch her, and you can do what you want with her.”
The doors swung shut behind me, the cracked glass rattling as they banged loud enough to wake the house.
I hopped down the wooden steps. They creaked under my weight, screaming that I shouldn’t leave. . . that I'd be caught, regardless, and should save my energy. That I’d be hurt. Killed.
I didn’t care.
I needed to get away from here. I needed to believe that I could, even if my life ended while trying.
I didn’t dare glance back to the house, or to the man on my heels, advancing on me. There was nothing left to see. Cruel destiny had set fire to my future. The boy I wanted to spend it with would be wrapped in the flames soon.
I had nothing left, and there was only one way this was ending. . . and I knew that, even if I wouldn’t admit to it.
I didn’t have the ability to run from the pain, but I limped on, eager to escape in the direction I remembered the main road.
I heard someone shout “Stop,” and I could have sworn it was Hell, but I didn’t listen because Woodrow told me to go.
The long grass scratched at the cuts on my feet, gifted by the wreckage of kitchenware. Daisy petals soothed the welts as I continued on.
I picked up pace, ignoring the intensity of my pain as determination to break free pulled me forward. Guilt over leaving Nessie behind tried to hold me back. . . but my broken mind tried convincing me she'd be safe here in a house full of monsters until I could get to the police.
But deep down, I knew I’d never get to them.
I knew the person behind would catch me.
He was so close. . .
My ears only took in the sound of a barn owl, who was rapidly voicing its terror. I didn’t register the sound of a small explosion popping through the midnight air. I forced myself to block it out. But I soon realized the shot that caused it hadn’t hit me, and I could no longer feel someone else’s shadow on my back, and as I focused more on the noise around me, I couldn’t hear his feet moving behind mine, either.
I kept going, grateful for each step, feeling that Woodrow was back to his senses and had fired, assisting my getaway.
Freedom felt closer and closer. I breathed harder, my cheeks roseate with the effort I’d put into getting away.
The starless sky looked down on me. A light breeze ran with me as I rushed, hobbling barefoot through the grass. The sound of owls and other creatures of the night continued echoing ominously in the dark, but I nolonger felt their fear.
And I no longer felt mine.
I was finally free. Free to live, when all I wanted was to die.
