and looked off toward the side, not staring directly at the door.
It opened, and in he walked, carrying my new items like normal.
His damn mask was in place—again, like normal. But through my squinted vision, I could see a small sliver of skin.
That was where I struck.
He was surprised. He bellowed, his shout loud over the music.
I shoved hard with the first bolt.
Directly into his throat.
He swung at me, even as he choked, hitting my arm, and not in his favor, shoving my shoulder fierce enough that it made my blow even harder. The momentum revibrated down my arm, the force adding to my strength before I flew against the wall. He punched out again, hitting me square in the face as he made an odd gurgling noise. I felt my eyebrow split open as my head hit the wall.
The lights went out as I fell to the floor.
My eyelids fluttered open. I was lying in something sticky. And only remotely warm, although cool against my burning skin and insides. Lifting my head, I glanced around.
And saw freedom by means of my jailer.
Dead. Next to me on the ground.
The door was still open where he lay half in and out of the room, his dead corpse so helpfully keeping the door open for me. I yanked the bolt out his throat and stood carefully, trying not to slip in the blood I had been lying in.
I couldn’t see out of one eye, which meant it was swollen, but really, I couldn’t feel anything past the chills and heat then cold that flashed over me. And I moved, creeping out of the room. The light hurt my eyes, so I lifted my chained wrist and shielded my eyes with my hands and gingerly made my way up the wooden stairs, my feet tracking sticky, bloody footprints all the way up them, my shackles in no way quiet as I took each step.
There was no door at the top of the stairs, and I peeked out around. I had known earlier there was no one else here, but I had no clue how long I had been knocked out. I waited. Listening and leaning heavily against the bare wall.
Nothing. There was no sound.
I sucked in a breath and made myself move. I was in a kitchen of sorts. It was old, like 1950s era with mustard yellow appliances and cracking beige countertops. But I didn’t care about any of that. All I cared about was the door I saw behind a small wooden table with two chairs around it. The window on it showed the outside—trees, like Daniil had talked about—even if it were dark out there with only the moon to light the way.
I lunged and grabbed the gun that was sitting on the table. I wasn’t positive I even knew how to use it, but I was covered in blood, and if I was going into the woods at night, I needed some type of protection against the creatures that called the land theirs. An alarm sounded as soon as I opened the door, and I raced out of the house, my chains clinking the whole way.
Bitter, cold air hit my heated skin, and I welcomed it, staring down a gravel road. With no fucking car. I couldn’t be so lucky. I knew they had only brought one here, but I had hoped there would be one around. And with that damn alarm going off, anyone who was linked to it would know I was escaping since I didn’t know the code to turn it off.
So, I did the only thing I could do. I bent down, picked up the chain between my feet…and I raced into the woods. Naked. Hot. Bleeding. With only a single gun to protect me—even though I had no clue how to use it.
I ran.
And I ran.
My feet bled under the onslaught of the twigs, needles, and rocks I raced over.
And still, I ran.
In the distance, I could hear cars driving by to my left on a gravel road. I didn’t trust cars. I didn’t trust a soul. I ran until I needed to stop. But only for a few minutes, holding under my belly, feeling tiny kicks and pushes. My babies telling me they didn’t like this jostling.
The trees swayed with the heat my body was feeling. I felt another emotion…fear. As I sucked in a breath, glancing around at all the open space, I felt terror. There was so much of it. So
It opened, and in he walked, carrying my new items like normal.
His damn mask was in place—again, like normal. But through my squinted vision, I could see a small sliver of skin.
That was where I struck.
He was surprised. He bellowed, his shout loud over the music.
I shoved hard with the first bolt.
Directly into his throat.
He swung at me, even as he choked, hitting my arm, and not in his favor, shoving my shoulder fierce enough that it made my blow even harder. The momentum revibrated down my arm, the force adding to my strength before I flew against the wall. He punched out again, hitting me square in the face as he made an odd gurgling noise. I felt my eyebrow split open as my head hit the wall.
The lights went out as I fell to the floor.
My eyelids fluttered open. I was lying in something sticky. And only remotely warm, although cool against my burning skin and insides. Lifting my head, I glanced around.
And saw freedom by means of my jailer.
Dead. Next to me on the ground.
The door was still open where he lay half in and out of the room, his dead corpse so helpfully keeping the door open for me. I yanked the bolt out his throat and stood carefully, trying not to slip in the blood I had been lying in.
I couldn’t see out of one eye, which meant it was swollen, but really, I couldn’t feel anything past the chills and heat then cold that flashed over me. And I moved, creeping out of the room. The light hurt my eyes, so I lifted my chained wrist and shielded my eyes with my hands and gingerly made my way up the wooden stairs, my feet tracking sticky, bloody footprints all the way up them, my shackles in no way quiet as I took each step.
There was no door at the top of the stairs, and I peeked out around. I had known earlier there was no one else here, but I had no clue how long I had been knocked out. I waited. Listening and leaning heavily against the bare wall.
Nothing. There was no sound.
I sucked in a breath and made myself move. I was in a kitchen of sorts. It was old, like 1950s era with mustard yellow appliances and cracking beige countertops. But I didn’t care about any of that. All I cared about was the door I saw behind a small wooden table with two chairs around it. The window on it showed the outside—trees, like Daniil had talked about—even if it were dark out there with only the moon to light the way.
I lunged and grabbed the gun that was sitting on the table. I wasn’t positive I even knew how to use it, but I was covered in blood, and if I was going into the woods at night, I needed some type of protection against the creatures that called the land theirs. An alarm sounded as soon as I opened the door, and I raced out of the house, my chains clinking the whole way.
Bitter, cold air hit my heated skin, and I welcomed it, staring down a gravel road. With no fucking car. I couldn’t be so lucky. I knew they had only brought one here, but I had hoped there would be one around. And with that damn alarm going off, anyone who was linked to it would know I was escaping since I didn’t know the code to turn it off.
So, I did the only thing I could do. I bent down, picked up the chain between my feet…and I raced into the woods. Naked. Hot. Bleeding. With only a single gun to protect me—even though I had no clue how to use it.
I ran.
And I ran.
My feet bled under the onslaught of the twigs, needles, and rocks I raced over.
And still, I ran.
In the distance, I could hear cars driving by to my left on a gravel road. I didn’t trust cars. I didn’t trust a soul. I ran until I needed to stop. But only for a few minutes, holding under my belly, feeling tiny kicks and pushes. My babies telling me they didn’t like this jostling.
The trees swayed with the heat my body was feeling. I felt another emotion…fear. As I sucked in a breath, glancing around at all the open space, I felt terror. There was so much of it. So
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