I wave away his concern. “I’m not starting anything. I’m going to see who has been camping out during the nights in our buildings. Iknowwe have a squatter.”
Huxley looks like he might say something but then nods and turns his attention back to Jordan, who’s gazing at him like she can’t believe she’s here with the love of her life.
It’d melt my heart if I had one.
Scowling to myself, I trudge the well-worn path leading from our cabins to the town. I'm in a horrible mood, almost making me feel bad for whoever I come across tonight. I won't be holding back anything, so they better be ready for a rude wake-up call.
2
BLAKELY
My thighs and calves burn from squatting behind this tree for the last fifteen minutes, but it’s the safest spot 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 stay inside the cozy, heated cabin instead of taking off into the woods with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Unfortunately, the latter was the safer option for me.
Three days later, however, I'm reassessing 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 my conversation 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 the memories. They’re not helpful right now. I’m trying to survive long enough to figure out my next move.
Refocusing my attention on the newly renovated buildings and half-finished structures, I'm relieved to see the area is clear. I scan my surroundings one last time, looking for my aunt and uncle or 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 if I were in a locked cell…
But no. I don’t want to start the next chapter of my life locked in a cell. That’s how I’ve spent the first twenty. The next twenty will 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 to not draw attention to myself.
My heart races as I dart between construction vehicles and half-erected walls, ducking 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 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, the construction crew would hopefullyleave it alone until I could come up with a better plan. Besides, even if they discover my hiding spot, it’s only two things from their 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 dreamed it all up at first. One minute, I was tripping over fallen logs and covering 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 know how to begin or where to go. 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 floor's hard surface.
I’m worthless because they made me worthless. No, I’m worthless because Iletthem make me worthless.
The second day I was up on the mountain, I found a well-worn gravel road leading down, which made sense. All those construction vehicles had to get up here somehow. I walked down the road, eager to get as far away from what was 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 thefamiliar 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 of the Smoky Mountains for the second time in as many days. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I sprinted as fast and far as possible. 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 footsteps crunching on gravel fill 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 finds me, I’ll 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 will be 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 stutters and stops 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 be caught for sure.
