The Boy I Grew Up With

Weapon.

I would need a weapon, so I started looking around.

The guy next to me had a gun—not good—but he had a knife too. It was strapped to his right hip, only a button keeping it in place. I could grab that, grab the gun. I’d have to elbow him first, throw it into his throat and push as hard as possible. Lay my body over his arm so he couldn’t block me or throw me off, or even shoot me. I’d have to almost sit on his hand where the gun was, then after ramming an elbow into his throat, I’d get the knife, and the gun, and haul ass.

Wait. Chill out. Take a second.

If they didn’t stop, there’d only be one guy to deal with. He was in the front. He’d be twisting around, grabbing at me. I’d have to bring the gun up. Did I shoot? Did I shoot a second guy? This one might be fatal.

I swallowed over a knot.

The last time had been different. It was self-defense. This would be calculated. But it’d be self-defense too, I thought… I went through the steps in my head, planning to shoot a guy.

Did I dare?

I had to. These guys weren’t talking, so I didn’t know what they had planned. I was sure they were following orders, but who knew the end game? Who they were taking me to and what were their intentions? I wasn’t going to wait to find out.

So the revised plan: attack the guy next to me and shoot the guy in the front passenger seat. But where?

Shoot down. Shoot his arm? Shoot his shoulder? Would I even be able to aim?

Shit. Maybe I should just run for it? Then worry about them shooting me in the back… That was a distinct possibility.

Fuck it. I’d do whatever I had to do when the opportunity came along—but we were leaving the woods. If I was going to go, I needed to go now. There was a field up ahead. There’d be no cover unless I was crawling, and that meant going slow.

Fuck!

GO, HEATHER, FUCKING GO!

I went for the door. I could see through the bag enough, but shit—it was locked.

“Hey!” he guy next to me barked.

I twisted back and was on him like a rabid cat. I launched my entire body at him, and I scratched. There went the whole cool, calm, and collected plan.

The bag came off, and I was fighting for my life. Scratching, biting, and hair pulling wouldn’t help for long. The guy oomphed under me, and I felt him gathering his weight. He was about to throw me off.

Knee, down.

I followed my own commands, ramming my knee down on his junk, and as he buckled in a howl under me, I looked behind me. The front passenger guy was going for his gun. I gave him the elbow, lunging forward to hit his throat as hard as possible. He grunted, falling back, and then I was scrambling.

Gun, gun, gun.

Knife.

I grabbed both, punching the guy’s junk again and using my feet to kick out the window.

The driver was slowing down.

The front passenger yelled, “No, don’t! Richter wants her unharmed. Go fast.”

Richter—that fuckhead. So he wasn’t dead.

I used all of my weight to kick at the door, leaning fully back on the guy behind me. He still seemed busy clutching his dick, and then finally, the window shattered. Hell yes.

Rational thought left me at this point, and I dove out of the window. I knew I was cut. I felt the searing pain, and then more as I landed hard on the side of the gravel road. Something hit my head, and a numbing ache started there, but I couldn’t stop and assess the damage.

I had to run. I had to go fast and hard, and I couldn’t stop. If I stopped, I didn’t want to find out what would happen.

I wasn’t going to be a goddamn victim. I knew that much. As the SUV screeched to a halt, I staggered to my feet and began running. We’d gone past the trees, so I crashed into the ditch. Long grass scraped against my legs, but I kept going. I didn’t know what I was running into—animals, whatever. All I knew was I had to go. I had to fucking go. Get out of here! So almost blindly, I kept going until the first line of trees was closer.

I heard the guys yelling, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. The blood pumped so loud in my ears, my heartbeat was like the bass in a techno song—really freaking fast and hypnotic in a way.

“There!” one guy yelled.

I veered toward the trees, or more threw myself in their direction, and glanced over my shoulder. All of my movements were wild and half-crazed, but I could make the guy pointing right at me.

An animalistic sound ripped from my throat. It scared even me, and I heard other animals running away. The trees were thick, I realized. The branches were going to hurt. I crashed through them, and yes, they stung like a bitch.

Better than a gunshot.

Better than being a victim.

Fight, Heather.

I was. I was fighting. I was running. I had kicked their asses, and this wasn’t going to be the end of me. I would run till I couldn’t run anymore. Then I’d walk, and if I couldn’t do that, I’d crawl. I’d fucking crawl until the skin was ripped off of me and all my blood was gone. Then I’d crawl some more.

“Where’d she go?”

They couldn’t hear me? I was crashing into more and more branches.

That meant I could slow down.

I’d have to hide.

They’d have to leave, and if they called for backup, so could I. Or I’d try. No. I couldn’t do that. Even as I thought it, I forgot it. I didn’t know where I was, and I couldn’t risk my phone flashing or buzzing or anything.

I felt myself weakening. Blood trickled down my arm. I was going to lose consciousness, and soon. I felt sort of woozy. It was that rock, or whatever had hit my head. That’s what was doing this, not even the cuts or road rash.

Wait. What was I doing?

I stopped, lurching forward, and fell against a tree.

I steadied myself, but my heart felt like it wanted to beat out of me, drilling up through my throat. I looked down to see it, but I couldn’t make anything out. I couldn’t even see myself. I was in complete darkness.

“Where’d that bitch go?” a guy grunted, swearing. “Fucking whore.”

Whore? I wasn’t a whore.

I felt more and more dizzy. A wave of nausea crashed over me. I wanted to puke. My stomach was pushing up too. Everything was pushing up. It wasn’t a good feeling.

I was going to be sick.

No…

I was running from those guys.

I needed to retch.

I grabbed hold of the tree and bent over, but I had to keep going.

What was I doing again?

And then—oh shit—I heard them closing in. They had a light too. They were shining it everywhere.

I ran from them.

I had to hide—I couldn’t keep going. But where?

Oh God.

A really bad idea came to me. Feeling my stomach, feeling everything in me sink to my feet, I looked up.

I had to hide. Oh, fuck. Okay. I had nowhere to go. They’d find me down here, but maybe not up there.

I started to climb.

This was going to be a long fucking night.

42

Heather

“Heather!”

They hadn’t stopped searching for me. I felt like I’d been sitting here for hours, but it could’ve been thirty minutes. I had no idea; I’d been woozy when I hoisted myself up into this tree. I was higher than their line of sight now so they’d have to shine a good-sized flashlight right on me to see me. The tree had two large branches coming out of the trunk, and I’d maneuvered myself into that little notch where the tree separated and used my jacket to hold me in place. It wasn’t the best way to secure myself, but it was what I had because the trunk was big enough that I couldn’t wrap my arms around it. I laid myself against the branch so my own weight kept me anchored in place. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">