He glares at me. “I told you not to call me that.” He stabs a finger at me, and I recoil. “It’s your fault. This is all your fault. Rachel…” His eyes fill with tears. He blinks them, and they turn hard again. “This is your punishment for killing Rachel.”
He walks away, but now I know the cage is something bad. Maybe even worse than the basement.
I chase after him. “No! Don’t leave me here.”
My bare feet are loud on the basement steps.
Slap, slap, slap.
He whirls around, tries to close the door, but I push past him. I’m stronger than he is, even though I’m small. His eyes are wide as he loses his balance, and he reaches out to grab something, but he’s already falling.
Thud, thud.
CRACK.
There’s a circle of red around his head, and I watch it get bigger as his eyes stare at nothing.
Hate the smell.
But it makes me hungry.
I run to the front door and pull it open. It’s cold and I don’t have shoes, but I don’t get a coat. The men with the cage might come back and punish me.
I didn’t kill Momma, but they’ll blame me for this.
And I run and run until I don’t know where I am.
Hungry.
Cold.
Tired.
“Hey, little girl. It’s okay; you can come out of there. We won’t hurt you.” The two men crouch in front of me.
I stay right where I am, squished in the corner of a smelly dumpster, staring at the men’s dark blue uniforms and wondering how I can get past them.
“Kat!”
My eyes snap open.
I’m in bed with no memory of having gotten into it, and I’m naked under the sheet.
Aren is wearing sweats, lying on his side, inches from me.
His hand is on my head, and after a pause, he resumes stroking the hair back from my face. “How are you feeling?”
A deep line brackets his eyebrows. He looks so worried. I think that’s the only reason I don’t shove him off the bed or get out myself is because of how worried he looks.
“What happened?” My voice is hoarse.
He shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know. You fell.” He swallows. “I thought someone shot you.”
The memory of that sharp, ringing sound makes me feel cold. “What was it?”
“Hunters. Off our property.” He gives me a searching look, then slides his fingers into my hair and draws me against him, my face against his chest. “I remembered what happened to you before.”
He thought Cristofer had come back to shoot me again, this time with a bullet instead of a crossbow bolt.
