My chest thumped.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
His face looked like Daddy’s, but I knew it wasn’t him. Boots. Black vest. Hat pulled low.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
He stepped closer. Something long and dark glinted in his hands.
CRACK.
The windshield bloomed with white fractures, spider legs racing across the glass.
CRACK.
Another blow.
CRACK.
Three times, and the warm, safe world inside the car shattered.
2
MACKENZIE
AGE 12
Camp Blackshear
Blackshear, Georgia
Six Months Later
The shrill buzz of cicadas drilled through the trees. Their clicking scraped against the dusty cabin windows like fingernails.
It was almost eleven p.m., and I still couldn’t sleep. Every creak of the bunk sounded like a footstep.
Shadows crawled up the cabin walls, pooling in the corners, stretching thin like hands reaching for me.
I’d been at Camp Blackshear for two weeks, and I already knew every exit. The front door stuck if you pulled too hard. The side door by the laundry room, in case I needed a quick escape. The path behind the cabins that cut straight to the woods. I told myself it was just in case. But what was I running from? My Daddy? I still didn’t know.
Everyone said a new town would help. New state, new school, new camp. Like you could drive away from the bad stuff if you went far enough.
But it didn’t matter how far we drove. Some nights, it still felt like the blood was on my hands.
When I got here, I already felt broken in ways I didn’t have words for. I wasn’t really looking for a fresh start. I just wanted the old stuff to stop chasing me.
Sometimes it felt like there were cracks inside me that nobody could see. Like if I moved the wrong way, I might fall apart.
The silence didn’t feel like freedom. It felt like being dropped into the deep end of the lake. My lungs squeezed tight as I closed my eyes, putting my hands over my ears. I could hear the screams even when they weren’t here.
I kicked my feet against the mattress like I could keep myself from floating into the nightmares. My shadows swam underneath me, bumping against my legs. The loneliness chewed at my insides, fluttering against my skin like a moth stuck too close to a candle.
