Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

The tears won’t stop and this time it’s not because of what Clyde is doing to me, it’s because of what I won’t do. What I can’t do.

I know better than to let him continue to beat on me but how do I get out? I’ve got nowhere to go and if I leave I know in the depths of my soul that Clyde will come for me and it’ll only be worse.

I stare at my reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror, tracing the outline of the purple bruise blooming across my cheekbone. The fluorescent light flickers, casting shadows that dance across my battered face. I barely recognize the woman looking back at me - hollow-eyed, pale, a shell of who I used to be.

Something inside me snaps. I can't do this anymore. I won't.

With trembling hands, I grab my oversized purse from under the sink. I stuff it full of whatever I can grab - a few t-shirts, my only pair of jeans without holes, some underwear. My fingers brush against the smooth surface of the locket my grandmother gave me, tucked away in the back of a drawer. I clasp it around my neck, feeling a surge of strength.

I'm zipping up the purse when I hear the front door slam. My heart leaps into my throat. Clyde. He's home early.

"Macy!" he bellows. "Where are you?"

Panic rises in my chest. I can't go out the front door. He'll see me. He'll stop me.

My eyes dart to the small bathroom window. It's a tight squeeze, but it might be my only chance.

I hoist myself up onto the toilet, fumbling with the rusty latch. It finally gives way with a screech that makes me wince. I push the window open, cool air rushing in.

"Macy!" Clyde's voice is closer now. Angry. "Answer me!"

I throw my purse out first, hearing it land with a soft thud in the overgrown grass below. Then I wiggle through the opening, scraping my arms and legs on the rough wooden frame. For a moment, I'm suspended between two worlds - the hell I'm leaving behind and the unknown that lies ahead.

I tumble to the ground, my fall cushioned by a tangle of weeds. Scrambling to my feet, I snatch up my purse and run. I don't look back as I plunge into the thick woods behind our house, branches whipping at my face and thorns tearing at my clothes.

I run until my lungs burn and my legs feel like jelly. Only then do I slow, gasping for air. The forest is silent around me, save for the pounding of my heart and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

I have no idea where I'm going. No plan. No destination. But for the first time in years, I feel something other than fear and despair.

I feel hope.

She left.

The corner of my mouth turns up into a smile as I watch her run into the woods from a distance. I don’t have to get closer to know its her. I know everything about her. The way her light brown hair moves, how it shines in the moonlight. Her mouth when it’s set in a pout. Even the way her eyes look when she’s scared.

If I’m honest that’s one of my favorite things about her.

I love to see her scared.

I don’t want her to be hurt but if she has to be, I want her to be looking at me.

Right away I shake the thought out of my mind. It’s those crazy thoughts that keep me out in the woods in the first place. I have urges I don’t think anyone else has and most of them involves fear.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of pine and damp earth. The forest is alive with nocturnal sounds - the hoot of an owl, the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush. But beneath it all, I can still hear her. The snap of a twig, the ragged breath of someone running for their life.

My fingers twitch with anticipation. I could catch her easily. I know these woods like the back of my hand. Every trail, every hidden clearing. But where's the fun in that?

No, I'll let her run. Let her think she's escaped. The terror will build slowly, seeping into her bones as she realizes she's lost, alone in the darkness. And then, when she's at her most vulnerable, I'll reveal myself.

I start to follow, moving silently through the trees. My footsteps are careful, measured. I'm in no hurry.