In the passenger seat of the vehicle was a man who was clearly dead, he hadn't been wearing a seatbelt, and he’d been thrown into the windshield. No one else was in the vehicle, though. No driver, and more importantly, no Indigo.
Movement behind him caught his attention just in time, and he spun around, weapon raised, ready to kill whoever was coming.
January 25th
12:30 A.M.
Was she going the right way?
Did it even matter?
It wasn’t like Indigo was running to a certain location, she was just running.
Doing her best to escape, to fight, to live. To make plans for the future, entertain hopes and dreams, and build a life that was secure, that couldn’t be washed away in the storms that seemed to continuously rain down upon her.
Nothing and no one was going to take this chance from her.
Voodoo was out there somewhere, and all she had to do was find him and everything would be okay.
She had no idea how he’d become so important to her so quickly. No idea how he’d managed to convince her that he was worthy of her trust, her faith, when she hadn't even known she still possessed the ability to entertain those notions.
But the whys and hows weren't important. All that mattered was that she believed Voodoo was out there, knew he wouldn't leave her behind, that he’d be doing his best to get himself to her. Might even be somewhere close by right at this very second.
Believing in him could be the biggest mistake of her life, after all, she had no experience with people ever being there for her. It was such a risk, her entire life was on the line, Voodoo her only meaningful chance at escape, and even if he did save her now, it didn't mean he wouldn't let her down in the future.
Yet … in some deep place of her soul, she knew that wouldn't happen. Voodoo was the real deal, she’d felt safer with him than she ever had before. With her first ex, she was so young, so desperate for love and affection that she knew she’d ignored dozens of red flags. With her second ex, she’d always been aware of how very different their lives had been, how much better he was than her, and she’d always tried to be on her best behavior, not wanting to let him down, which meant she’d never gotten to just be herself.
That wasn't an issue when she was with Voodoo. He didn't expect anything from her, didn't look down at her, didn't think less of her because she’d been abused so badly. All he saw was her, and when she was around him, she felt protected in a way she’d craved all her life.
Voodoo was safety, he was hope, he was life … maybe one day he could even be love.
Which is why she wasn't going to give up. Why she was going to keep fighting, give this everything she had.
As she ran, Indigo barely felt the rocks, sticks, and roots digging into the soles of her bare feet. Since she didn't register pain, all she felt was the pressure of each item that jabbed into her skin. That and the cold. Not fully recovered from the infections that had been close to stealing her life, she still couldn’t seem to get her body to properly tolerate temperature extremes the way it was supposed to.
Wasn't just her feet that were cold, her entire body shivered even as she refused to slow down, wanting to put as much distance between herself and the crashed car as she could.
Her plan had worked.
Burning man had lost control of the car when she’d bitten him, and they’d careened down the embankment before slamming into a tree.
Because she didn't feel pain, Indigo wasn't sure if she’d been injured in the crash, and there hadn't been time to pause and take stock to check herself for injuries. She did know the impact had broken the plastic zip ties binding her wrists, leaving her free to focus on running.
The man in the passenger seat, the one who called her kitty, and who kept droning on about how much he would love to sexually assault her, hadn't been wearing a seatbelt. His body had been flung forward, his skull colliding with the windscreen as the car impacted the tree. There was no way he could survive an injury like that, so she knew he was dead.
But burning man had been groaning when she shoved open her door and climbed out. Because she’d been in between the back and front seats, in that little space on the floor of the car, as they hit, she was pretty sure she wasn't hurt. If she was, she didn't think she’d be able to run like she was.
And she was running like the devil himself was on her heels, because in a way that was exactly her situation.
Maybe Dr. Gardner wasn't the devil, maybe burning man wasn't either, but they were pretty darn close. Close enough that she was as scared of them as she would be of the devil.
If burning man caught her …
Maybe thinking about that wasn't such a good idea right now.
So Indigo tried not to think of anything as she ran. Just pictured Voodoo’s handsome face, the tenderness in his eyes as he gazed at her, the heat as he kissed her, the promise of more when she was ready in each touch, each caress, each brush of his fingers on her skin.
All she had to do was survive, and all of that could be hers.
