2. Blakely

My thighs and calves are burning from squatting behind this tree for the last fifteen minutes, but it's the safest spot for me to wait while the construction site I stumbled upon a few days ago clears out. Honestly, my sore muscles are nothing compared to some of the scrapes and bruises I received while racing through the thick mountain forest in the middle of the night.

I close my eyes against the memory of that dreadful evening. Most people would opt to stay inside the nice heated cabin instead of taking off into the woods with nothing more than the clothes on their back. Unfortunately, that was the safer option for me at the moment.

Three days later, however, I"m starting to rethink my decision. What the hell was I thinking? I survived twenty years with my aunt and uncle, so why couldn"t I stick it out until the end of our "weekend getaway"?

Shame and embarrassment wash over me as I go over the conversation I had with my oldest friend, Delilah, right before we left. She warned me that the vacation could be some kind of trap, but I ignored her, choosing to live in denial for as long as possible. It only lasted a few more days until we reached the cabin. That's when…

I shake my head, trying to dispel those thoughts. It's not helpful right now. I'm just trying to survive long enough to figure out my next move.

Focusing my attention back on the newly renovated buildings and half-finished structures, I"m relieved to see the area is clear. I scan the surrounding area one last time, looking for my aunt and uncle as well as anyone who might catch me and kick me off their property, or worse, call the cops. Then again, jail doesn"t sound so bad right about now. A bed with a pillow and a blanket? Three hot meals a day? Not to mention, my aunt and uncle couldn"t get to me from behind a locked cell…

But, no. I don't want to start the next chapter in my life locked in a cell. That's how I've spent the first twenty years of my life. The next twenty are going to be lived on my terms… whatever those are.

I stand from my squatting position, biting back a groan as my aching muscles strain to lift me. Hobbling my way down the shallow decline and into the construction area, I try to keep low to the ground so as not to draw attention to myself.

My heart races as I dart in between construction vehicles and half-erected walls, ducking down whenever I hear the slightest rustling nearby. Finally, I reach the little nest I've made for myself out of an old cloth tarp I found lying around and a fitted bed sheet that was being used as a drop cloth for a painting project.

I"m not proud of my theft, nor am I particularly proud of myself for straight-up stealing someone"s lovingly hand-packed lunch yesterday. The enormous turkey sandwich, beef jerky, carrot sticks, and apple filled my belly enough to make it another night. I lucked out and found a gallon-sized water bottle that was mostly full, which has kept me hydrated, though just barely. Another theft I"ll have on my record for the rest of my days.

I collapse onto the canvas spread across a darkened corner in one of the mostly finished buildings. I figured since this one didn't need a lot of work done, the construction crew will hopefully leave it alone until I can come up with a better plan. Besides, even if they discover my hiding spot, it's just two things from their own work site. At least, that's what I've been telling myself to ease my already guilty conscience.

As I settle in for another rough night of restless sleep, my mind drifts to the first morning I woke up here after tearing through the forest, running for dear life. I thought I dreamt it all up at first. One minute I was tripping over fallen logs and trying to cover my face from unruly branches clawing at my hair, clothes, and skin, and the next, I was rolling down a small hill and into a clearing that resembled civilization.

At the time, I thought I was hallucinating. Nevertheless, my brain and body moved forward, not caring if it was all a mirage. When I woke up the next day still sheltered inside the building, I realized I finally had a break in my streak of horrible luck.

Now if only I could bring myself to leave the mountain and find the courage to start over somewhere new. I don"t even know how to begin or where to go from here. I have no life skills, no experience in anything. I was always book-smart, but I stopped showing that side of myself after I corrected my uncle about something and he threw a beer bottle at my head.

I roll over, grimacing as my shoulder digs into the hard surface of the floor.

I'm worthless because they made me worthless. No, I'm worthless because I let them make me worthless.

The second day I was up on the mountain, I found a well-worn gravel road leading down the mountain, which makes sense. All those construction vehicles had to get up here somehow. I started walking down the road, eager to get as far away from what"s left of my family as I could. About halfway down, my aunt"s screeching voice echoed throughout the woods, shouting my name. I froze, completely overcome with fear. It wasn"t until I heard the familiar sound of my uncle"s rifle being cocked that I snapped out of my panicked haze.

I took off in the opposite direction, running through the wilderness that is the Smoky Mountains for the second time in as many days. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I sprinted as fast and as far away as I could. I don't know how long I ran until I finally came to a stop, wheezing for air as I doubled over from the stitch in my side. I was utterly lost, and it took me the rest of the day to find the construction area that had become my new home base.

I didn't have the courage to try out the gravel road today. Instead, I stayed close to my encampment while still hiding and making myself scarce. I know I'll have to find the courage to leave one of these days, but right now–

My thoughts scatter when the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel fills my ears. I can't breathe, let alone move as I wait like the prey I know I am.

Is it my uncle? One of the construction workers?

I don't know who would be worse. If my uncle found me, I would no doubt be punished within an inch of my life for disobeying and running away. On the other hand, I have no idea what the people working here are like. Maybe it would be just as bad, if not worse, to be found by an evil man with evil intentions, especially when I'm at my most vulnerable.

The footsteps draw closer, closer, closer, my heart stopping and then stuttering before kicking into overdrive. Sweat beads on my forehead as I take shallow breaths, trying to remain as quiet as possible even though I feel a panic attack coming on.

Shove it down, I tell myself. If I full-on hyperventilate, I'll for sure be caught.

I hold my breath as the footsteps pass right by me, on the other side of the wall, and then fade away. When I don't hear anything for a few moments, I exhale, letting the oxygen fill my veins and calm my rapid heartbeat.

That was a close call. Too close. Frick. I really don't want to move, but I can't risk staying here another night. Where the hell am I going to go? Maybe I can make a tent of sorts from the canvas tarp just to get through one more night. At the first sign of light, I'll head down the mountain and try my luck out there in the real world.

With my plan in mind, I nod to myself, attempting to shore up the energy and courage to sneak out of here. Carefully, quietly, and as stealthily as possible, I fold up the tarp so I can take it with me. I peek my head out of the open space where a door will one day go, looking to my left and to my right before taking a fortifying breath.

Now or never…

I make a mad dash outside, running straight toward the treeline. Out of nowhere, I crash into something, startling myself and letting out a muffled shriek as the tarp falls to the ground. My eyes slam closed and I wince, preparing myself to be eaten by a wolf or mauled by a bear. Instead, warm, rough hands circle around my upper arms, steadying me from falling backward.

I open one eye, shocked to see a tall, bearded man with a piercing green gaze.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, my muscles trembling as he holds me up. "I'm sor-r-r-y," I stutter out, my breath growing ragged as my vision tunnels. "I'm sorry," I repeat over and over, the panic suffocating me with each word.

"I've got you," is the last thing I hear before my world fades to black.