I shake my head. Here. Now. Side of the road, looking at a beautiful, beaten girl.
Fuck no.
I hold out both hands toward her, palms out, like I’m trying to approach a skittish horse. Voice quiet. Low. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Okay? You need help. There’s nothing out here in any direction for miles.”
She twists to look back the way she came—the partially ajar gate. “I…” her voice is a hoarse, scraping whisper, barely audible; she looks back at me. At the car. Longing yet terrified. “I can’t.”
I approach another step, and she freezes, not even breathing, so I halt again. “If you’re trying to escape whoever didthatto you…” I gesture at her, and then the black ribbon of road disappearing into the darkness whence she came. “You won’t do it on foot. Not with broken ribs.”
“They’re not broken,” she whispers.
“Sounds like you know from experience.”
She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t need to. I see the answer on her face. “Just leave me.” It’s another whisper, shaky and thin.
I shuffle closer—three feet gape between us. I take another step, and she shuffles backward, almost hyperventilating. “Not gonna happen.”
“Why?” The question escapes, it seems, unbidden. Immediately, she drops her head. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry.” Her voice cracks on the secondI’m sorry.
I blink at the sudden apology. “Wait, hold up. Why what? And what are you sorry for?”
Shakes her head, chin dropped to her chest, visibly shaking all over. “It’s not my place to question. I’m sorry.”
“Jesus fuck.” I’m starting to get a vague sense of what she’s running from. I point at the car. “Look, lady. I don’t know if you’re aware of what you’re up against, out here. There isn’t anything but fuckin’ cows and fields for miles in every direction. Nearest anything is a gas station, and that was ten miles back the other way.”
She swallows. Doesn’t answer.
“You ever walk ten miles before?”
She shakes her head. “No, sir.”
“No sir,” I echo. “Shit.”
She trembles. “Sir?”
“Quit calling me sir. Jesus.” I look away, exhale sharply, look back at her. “You need medical attention.” I look down at her feet; they’re bare. “Fuck me running. You’re barefoot?”
She wiggles her toes. “I didn’t have time to get shoes.”
“Well, you’re not going far in that state.” I gesture at the car. “Just get in.”
She stares at me. Blinks back tears, the nods submissively. Takes a tentative step forward. Another. Not looking at me, shaking like a leaf, her chin tucked against her chest, eyes downcast, she rushes past me toward the car. Getting away from my presence as quickly as possible.
She opens the door gingerly, folding herself into the seat—it’s obvious each movement causes her pain. Once seated, she folds her hands on her lap and waits. Head down. Eyes down.
God, what did they do to this girl?
I close her door, taking care to do so gently, moving slowly. She still jumps when the door thunks closed. I slide behind the wheel, put it in gear, release the brake, and drive away. She watches in the side view mirror, rapt. Waiting.
I glance at her. “Hey. You’re safe now.”
She shakes her head. “He won’t let me go.”
“Your husband?”
She shakes her head but doesn’t answer.
I drive in silence for a while, and then glance at her. “I’m Silas.”
