To go back to him, knowing there’s the chance that he’ll take me to a place of darkness, a world I can’t navigate, and lock me up—
It’s a risk, a dangerous one.
I have to reunite with Bee. I have to know she’s safe.
A horrible ache spreads through my chest as I decide.
I’m going to run.
But I wait. I wait until I don’t hear the steps sloshing anymore.
Then I push up from the flood—and cringe.
Water runs down me, and it’s not quiet. But the coast should be clear. I haven’t heard anything in a minute or two. So, water rushing down me, I start to wade through the flood.
And I have no idea where I’m going.
One hand outstretched in front of me, the other reaches into the outer pockets of the satchel and digs around.
I test the outer pockets first, because that’s where he keeps the map and compass. Easy to grab.
And I’m right.
The familiar cool touch of the torch presses against my palm.
I knew it.
I knew he kept it.
I kick through the water.
And, as I go, I fish out the inhaler from my pocket and draw in a breath, another, another, another.
But I can’t go using it all up. I don’t know if there’s a backup in the satchel that I can use or if I’ll have to make this one last.
So I pocket it, even though my lungs feel serrated. Barely soothed at all by the puffs.
Guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.
I switch on the torchlight—and drag the beam around the dark.
It looks as bad as it felt.
Soaked tree trunks, puddles glimmering, fallen branches, firewood floating, a bag caught up in a tarp, and—
A face.
A cry of fright hits me. I stumble back into a tree, the white beam ghosting over the face pokes out from around a fallen branch of leaves.
The face is familiar.
Hazel eyes, dark straight hair, and bushy brows.
Connie.
A deer in the headlights, all she can see is a light beaming right at her. Wisps of it curling around the darkness.
She can’t see me.
