Prologue
Regina
Every frantic, stumbling step I took through the dark woods was one step farther from him—the asshole who’d ripped away my innocence—my soul—with every brutal thrust, he stole a piece of me.
I swallowed, trying to rid my mouth of the coppery taste of blood, but with the tortured motion only worsened the pain. It felt as if dull razor blades were scraping the back of my throat. Vivid memories assaulted me—how he’d clamped his filthy, calloused hand around my neck and squeezed until his blunt fingernails dug into my skin. How he’d repeatedly punched me in the face to stop me from screaming.
I swiped my swollen tongue along my split lower lip, and a sharp sting made my eyes tear up even more. But I couldn’t let myself focus on the pain. I had to get away.
As I continued to hurry through the trees toward an open clearing I’d glimpsed a minute ago, desperation filled my gut, warning me to keep looking back over my shoulder for any sign of the monster who was chasing me. I prayed the bastard wasn’t following.
Finally, I came to the edge of the woods and found an old corn field. I choked out a relieved sob as fat tears blurred my vision and slipped down my cheeks.
Clutching the ragged edges of my torn shirt, I hurried on, oblivious to the rows of stubs left over from last year’s harvest. The sharp remnants of the old stalks were like dull knives cutting into the tender sole of my left foot, but not the other. One of my favorite flip flops was still on my right foot—it’d stayed on by some miracle, through the attack and even during my escape.
I was oddly grateful for the sting in my left foot, a it gave me temporary relief from thinking about the throbbing pain between my legs.
Keep moving, I told myself as my heart rate ratcheted up and the pounding in my ears got louder. No matter what, I had to run faster. Had to find a hiding place before he saw me out in the open. Because if he caught up with me, I knew I’d be dead for what I had done to him.
He’d raped me, but I’d fought back. And for certain, the gouges I had made with my nails would permanently scar his face.
The cool spring wind and the sliver of waning moon in the dark sky added to the horror and dread flooding my veins. I didn’t want to think about that—think about him, or what he could do to me—not when I had already endured hell.
Noise from behind had me dropping to the ground and stiffening like a statue. My heart thundered furiously against my ribcage, the hammering in my ears intensified, and stars burst across my vision. Even though I felt like passing out, I refused to close my aching eyelids.
I swept a cautious look along the field and found loose husks rustling along the uneven ground. Then I saw them. In the distance were twin lights. Headlights.
There was a road. That meant my phone might finally have enough bars and I could call for help. Hope caused the panic that was piercing my chest to withdraw just a bit.
I heaved myself back onto my feet and ran as swiftly as I could in the direction of those headlights, still glancing over my shoulder every few steps to check the edge of the woods.
My anxiety was a knife’s edge and so was the hatred swarming in my blood like killer bees ready to attack. But I kept on running even though I struggled to breathe and the pain intensified with each jarring step.
Every few feet, I glanced down at the cell phone clutched in my left hand. There were no bars. Yet. Even with dread creeping back in, my choice was to keep moving. I wouldn’t die here—not here—not where he could find me.
Clinging to a thin thread of faith, I finally reached the ditch by the roadside and decided to drop into it and hide. But I tripped and tumbled down, face first, before rolling onto my side into the muck at the bottom. Pain wracked my entire body, making me dizzy.
I placed my right hand between my legs and put pressure on my throbbing crotch, hoping to ease the ache there.
When the dizziness finally cleared, I pulled my hand away and tapped the screen to unlock my cell to check for bars again. That’s when I saw it—blood, which was illuminated by the meager light from the phone screen. Absolute horror engulfed me at the red coating my fingers.
I had been so focused on running and finding a safe hiding place, I hadn’t realized that I was bleeding. A soft cry tore through me as I tried to block out how I’d gotten into this mess. Instead, I fixated on the cracked screen. I straightened the best I could and prayed I got reception.
“Two bars,” I uttered in relief, and then quickly pressed my thumb down on the button, and shakily uttered, “Siri, call Maya’s cell…”
Please answer, Siri answer. I repeated the mantra in my head, while my heavy breaths sawed in and out of my exhausted lungs.
Three full seconds passed—an eternity for me—before Siri robotically answered, “Calling Maya’s cell.”
I held my breath while the call connected, clinging to the hope that Maya would pick up right away.
“Girl, do you know what time?—”
I wept louder at the sound of her voice. “Maya… I need?—”
A shout of rage echoed through the night air, and I froze, the cell pressed to my swollen cheek. I didn’t know what direction the scream came from, but I immediately plastered myself to the cold, damp ground. Fear spiked like a lightning bolt and I began to shake uncontrollably as the thought of being raped again shredded my soul.
I forgot in that moment that Maya was on the phone. I was so lost, frightened and filled with anguish and pain that I didn’t hear my best friend yelling my name.
