Jordan
So far from the city, there’s hardly any light that’s not natural. The dark eats me alive. No moonlight, no stars, nothing but the far-off glow of streetlamps painting jagged shadows over perfect grass.
Though I’m barefoot and unable to see where I’m walking, I refuse to let that slow me down.
Five days in that house, under his eyes. In my excitement and haste to hatch my escape plan, I forgot to close the bathroom door. I’ve bought myself a handful of minutes, maybe only seconds, before he notices the empty room. Before he starts the hunt.
The black iron fence, spiked and sharp, shines like the mouth of some patient predator. I grab the spokes. Haul myself up. Muscle memory flares from a life I’d buried. With a twist and a jump, I’m over.
The landing rattles my bones and rips open the bandage on my palms. Pain fans out, clean and white-hot. But pain is just fuel.
That’s what I’ve sold a thousand times in the camera’s eye.
Tonight, I spin the words into truth.
I stay low, move fast, and hug the darkness, keeping to the edges, my every sense tuned to the possibility of headlights or footsteps. Oak Park is empty at this hour, the rich houses asleep, their secrets tucked up behind dark glass. No one’s waiting at a window to spot the woman sprinting through their perfect suburb. Cool late summer air cuts through the soft pants and thin shirt Kirill gave me.
Where do I go?
Not Ashley’s.
He’s got people stalking her. Showing up would just make things worse. I can’t go back to my own place either. That’s the first place he’ll check, and I don’t even have my keys or my phone.
Just me. Bare feet, raw nerves, eyes scanning streetlight after streetlight as I try to map a strange neighborhood with nothing but old memories.
When the rumble of an engine purrs behind me, icy panic floods through my veins.
I drop down, wedging myself behind a hedge, inhaling the scent of soil and leaves. Blood wells up in a line along my forearm, but I barely feel the sting.
Headlights sweep over the road, past my hiding spot. An SUV with a woman driver.
Not him.
Not yet. But he’ll come.
I can’t stay on the street. I need to vanish.
Up ahead, I spy black trees, deeper dark, and a hollow in the grid of houses.
Scoville Park.
I saw the sign coming in, days ago, and filed the location away for future use. The park’s invisible now except for the faint outline of park benches, an amphitheater, and a jungle gym against the sky.
I cross the street at a dead sprint. My bare feet slap against the asphalt, the echo too loud.
Dangerous.
Wet and cold, but also soft and quiet.
I lose traction and slip but don’t stop.
You can’t slow down when a shark is on your tail. And you can’t leave tracks for him to follow.
I waver between joy and fear, my mind swirling withwhat ifs. He’ll be coming any moment, stalking the night, waiting to ensnare me in his jaws.
But I’m free. I’m alive. And I know how to disappear.
I’m running blind save for the hints of light filtering through the trees.
