That was all Caiden managed before he charged towards the man.
In the critical seconds before he reached, the man had enough time to begin sliding the edge against my skin.
The blade missed my neck but drew a cut between my neck and shoulder blade.
My bloodcurdling scream sliced through the darkness.
The pressure subsided as the man was knocked to the ground. A high-pitched clang echoed across the floor as the knife fell.
Blood, warm and wet, seeped down my chest, as my body slumped to the ground, the liquid coating my limbs.
I watched in horror as Caiden and the man tumbled together in the half-dark, thrashing and clawing at each other like wild animals.
“I told you not to fucking touch her!” Veins bulging in his neck, Caiden screamed, his fists pounding against the man in a murderous rage, a primal roar escaping his lips.
I could faintly make out his expression; a deadly glint entered his eyes, his face a mask of furious rage, his jaw clenched tight.
The man shoved him away for a moment, tackling him with brutal force.
“Caiden! Watch out!” I screamed as I saw the man grab the knife, aiming for Caiden’s chest.
To my relief, Caiden had quick reflexes. He swiveled his body at the last second, kicking the man off him.
It all happened so quickly, a blur of motion and sound. The man grunted, pain and frustration mingling in the sound. He shouted obscenities, spitting with rage, his threats laced with venom.
In a swift movement, Caiden sprang toward him, catching him off guard. The blade flashed in Caiden’s hand, a silver streak of hope.
Sounds of flesh tearing, wet and sickening, filled the air, blending with Caiden’s furious shouts.
Then, all fell silent, leaving only our ragged breaths.
Caiden collapsed to the ground beside the motionless, bleedingbody. I sat there, transfixed, the echo of the event resonating in my ears, a silent hum in the sudden stillness.
“I told that motherfucker I’d kill him,” Caiden finally murmured, breaking the deathly quiet.
“We’re free,” my whispered voice echoed, a bell of hope ringing loud in the aftermath.
THE PRESENT
AMELIA
The blood, still warm upon my skin, pulsed with a sickening rhythm. My vision swam, veiling the scene in a blur of red and shadow.
Silence stretched around us, broken only by the incessant drip, drip, drip of blood onto the grimy floor. The stench of violence and fear clung to the air, a grim testament to what we had just endured.
We had survived, yet the victory felt hollow, stained crimson with the price we had paid.
Minutes crawled by as we sat there, drenched in shock and weighed down by fatigue.
Finally, we sprang to our feet, the freedom we craved manifesting as a chaotic scramble of stumbling feet and pounding hearts, a desperate flight into the echoing darkness of the chamber, towards the ascending stairs.
We hurried through the basement door and emerged into the dim light of the cabin.
Before I could make it to the front door, Caiden halted me. “You need to get your wound cleaned up before we go back out into the wilderness.”
I glanced down at the blood trickling down my body and realized he was right. I couldn’t risk an infection.
In haste, we scurried through the cabin, searching for anything that could help us.
