Page 34 of The Quiet Witness

“I’m not going back there.”

Lucien heaved an impatient sigh. The night had taken long enough.

She stared at him. “I’m never… going back there.” And leaned back.

“Kate.”

She turned and ran.

***

She slipped. Caught her balance and kept going. Her feet pound across the hard ground. Echoed by the one hunting her. Lights burned bright, like a beacon leading her away. Away from the nightmare that her life had been.

From the frying pan into the fucking fire. Kate sped up, faster, faster. Faster then she’d ever run. Ever had imagined possible.

He was lying. It had to be a town and if not, there would be someone. Someone to help her.

Her lungs burned from the cold.

Doesn’t matter, just go!

Snowflakes whirled around her. The winter silence broken only by her heaving breath, and the feet beating the ground behind her.

She pushed and pushed. Nearly there. Ice! She skidded, slipping over the smooth surface below her. It burned everywhere it touched her. A pool. No. A lake.

Finally, she came to a halt. Scrambling on hands and feet, she pushed up.

Lucien stood on the edge with his hand outstretched toward her. “Kate. Get back here.”

She lifted her chin, defiance dripping from her face. “No.”

He took a tentative step onto the ice. “The ice can break.”

She stepped backward. Away from him. To the lights. He’d been right. It wasn’t a town. But if she got over the lake, she might buy enough time to get away.

“I’m not…” She shook her head. “I’m not going back there again.”

Crack.

Kate glanced down at the split into the ice.

“Kate!”

It rippled out. Little arms reaching out, farther and farther.

“You have to spread your weight. Get down… and slide back here.”

Unease… Was that unease in his tone?

The crack spread out even farther, curving below her shivering body.

Why would he even care? It would be a gracious gift to him. Her nails bit in her palms.

For the last fifteen years… She had been caught in a web of violence. From the second that car tumbled down the road. Her life had been stolen. No longer would her mum sing her bedtime lullabies, the warmth in her voice guiding her to sleep. She had survived yes. But there were those days. Where she huddled beneath the covers, holding her knees to her chest. Those moments where she’d thought, maybe it should have been all of them.

“Kate. You’re going to die.”

Her heartbeat slowed.