The world was different in the morning. Not better, just changed. The light through my window made every torn page and ruined blanket gleam like crime scene evidence. There was no hiding what had happened, no way to convince myself it was a bad dream.
I sat up slowly, gritting my teeth as every muscle in my torso screamed for mercy. I looked around my room and tried to decide what, if anything, was worth saving.
The answer was almost nothing.
My backpack was in the corner, half-zipped and missing a strap. I shoved a handful of clothes into it—hoodie, spare jeans, a T-shirt that wasn’t bloodstained—then scooped up the shattered remains of my laptop. Maybe the hard drive still worked.
I couldn’t afford to hope, but I took it anyway.
There was one thing Dennis hadn’t found. Under the mattress, wedged between the plywood and the frame, was a loose floorboard. I pried it up with a chipped screwdriver, fingers numb with cold and fear. The envelope inside was battered but still there: three twenties, a crumpled ten, and two ones. Emergency cash for a bus ticket or a bribe, whichever I needed more.
I counted the money twice, just to make sure it was real.
When I left my room, I kept to the wall. Every step sent a flare of pain up my side. I could hear Dennis snoring from his bedroom, the noise deep and ugly, like a truck engine failing to turn over. He always slept heavy after a binge. The rest of the house was trashed—beer cans everywhere, a greasy pizza box on the coffee table, couch cushions thrown to the floor like casualties.
I tiptoed down the hall, heart pounding. All I had to do was make it out the door. But as I passed Dennis’s room, I hesitated.The door was open just a crack. I could see his feet sticking off the end of the mattress, big and stupid and covered in dirt. He was sprawled on top of the sheets in his boxers, arm thrown across his face to block out the sunlight. A half-empty bottle of vodka rested on his chest like a trophy.
I should’ve kept going, but something in me snapped. Maybe it was the knowledge that he’d taken my entire paycheck a few days ago, or maybe it was just the stubborn, suicidal part of me that refused to die quietly.
I crept inside, careful not to step on any of the beer bottles littering the carpet. His jeans were crumpled at the foot of the bed, pockets bulging with loose change and receipts. I knelt, every nerve screaming, and dug out his wallet. My fingers were shaking so hard I almost dropped it. The movement must’ve made a noise, because Dennis rolled onto his side and let out a snort, but he didn’t wake.
I opened the wallet and found a wad of cash—my cash, I was sure of it, judging by the fresh creases and the way it still smelled like the inside of my locker. I took it all, replaced the empty wallet, and backed out of the room, holding my breath until I cleared the door.
The front door was stuck, like always, but I gave it a gentle nudge and squeezed through. The cold hit me in the face, sharp as a slap. I zipped my jacket, pulled the hood low over my face, and tried not to think about what came next.
I could hear my pulse in my ears, a dull roar that drowned out everything else. My breath steamed in the morning air. I kept moving, head down, one foot in front of the other. If Dennis woke up and came looking, he’d find the house empty, and by then I’d be long gone.
I didn’t know where I was going. College was out, unless I could fix the laptop. I couldn’t go to the hardware store—Dennis would find me there first. I just walked, letting the ache in mybody pull me forward, step by step, until the house was nothing but a speck behind me.
Every time I tried to remember Burke’s phone number, my mind went blank. But I remembered his voice, the way it sounded when he wasn’t trying to make me laugh. I followed that memory through the silent streets, past the gas station and the old school, and out onto the highway.
I had no plan. Just a broken backpack, a handful of crumpled bills, and the taste of blood in my mouth.
But it was more than I’d had the day before.
I kept walking, and didn’t look back.
The walk out of town took forever. My feet knew where to go, even when my brain didn’t. Past the gas station with its flickering neon, past the shuttered diner where I used to swipe packets of sugar as a kid, past the edge of everything I’d ever called home.
I kept expecting Dennis’s truck to come roaring up behind me, but the road stayed empty, just my footsteps and the low moan of the wind.
With every mile, my body announced new and exciting ways it could hurt. The inside of my mouth was hamburger; my ribs felt like someone had taken a crowbar to them. My eye was swelling shut, and I had to keep dabbing at my nose so the blood wouldn’t drip onto my jacket. Every time I breathed, it was like swallowing hot nails.
I wiped my face on my sleeve, which did nothing except smear the tears and snot around. I didn’t even realize I was crying until I tasted salt and copper. The morning air pressed in on me, cold enough to numb my fingers, but I barely noticed.
What I did notice was the way fear kept me upright. Pure, animal terror. I knew if I stopped, Dennis would find me. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. There was no doubt left in my mind that next time, he’d kill me for real.
So I kept going, even when my legs threatened to collapse. Even when the pain blurred my vision and the world started spinning sideways. I stumbled once, caught myself on a fence post, and let out a noise that wasn’t quite a scream but wasn’t human, either.
I don’t know how far I walked. The stars wheeled overhead, cold and bright and totally indifferent. At some point, the silhouette of Black Butte Ranch appeared on the horizon, lights burning like little ships in the dark. I had no idea if Burke was even there, or if he’d want to see me again, but my body tilted toward the possibility the way plants bend toward the sun.
I thought of his hands, the way they’d brushed mine in the truck. The way his scent had tangled up my head so bad I couldn’t think straight for hours. Pine and leather and something sharp, alive. I hung onto that, let it drag me forward through the nothing.
When the road turned to gravel, I almost went to my knees. I made myself stay upright, just to prove I could. Each step sent a shockwave up my spine, but I kept counting them: one, two, three, a thousand. My ears buzzed, and the world narrowed to a single, simple command: keep moving.
By the time I reached the edge of the ranch, the sky was starting to gray out with morning. The world was silent, except for the distant bark of a dog and the scrape of my shoes on the frozen dirt. I skirted the main drive, sticking to the shadows, not sure if I was more afraid of being seen or being missed.
I found a spot behind the equipment shed, collapsed against the wall, and let myself breathe for the first time in hours. My whole body shook with adrenaline and cold. I pressed my face into my knees and waited for the pain to fade, but it didn’t.
