Chapter One
When my eyes opened, there was only darkness. Darkness like I’d never seen before, with not a hint of light anywhere. A clump of something heavy and moist sat in my mouth.
Panic.
What was happening?
Ice-cold fear flooded through my veins at lightning speed.
Where was I? What had happened? I tried to sit up, tried to shove myself free, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place, kept there by some invisible force. It was heavy and thick, a texture I didn’t recognize at first. I’d been placed inside of something. Under something. I couldn’t tell.
I inhaled, and the thick clump moved further down my throat. I couldn’t breathe. My body flailed and convulsed, trying to free itself as my mind went to a flash of bright light.
Was I going to die right then and there? In some unrecognizable place? Alone and cold? There didn’t seem to be any other options.
I panicked, trying to cough and struggle against the force holding me down. What is happening? What is happening? What is happening? I fought through the cobwebs of my nightmare-filled memory.
Finally, my hand wriggled free, moving through something thick and unrelenting to touch my face. At first it didn’t register what was happening. Where I was. How I’d gotten there. What I needed to do. Then, all at once, realization slammed into my chest. I realized where I was and what was happening. I knew who had put me there.
I knew I was going to die.
With as much force as I could muster, I shoved my hands upward, roaring through the mud in my mouth and throat. I fought through a thick layer of the moist, wet earth, and then my hands were free. Like a zombie from the grave, my hands tore through the earth to reach the fresh air above. Was my assailant still there?
I didn’t care. Couldn’t. I was free. I felt the cool night air on my skin as I pushed myself to sit up, coughing and spewing mucus-covered soil from my mouth.
I looked around me at the fresh dirt that was meant to be my grave. The night air was cool, and there were no stars in the sky. No light to be seen, and yet, still somehow the air was lighter than being underground. I stood up, dusting myself off. The dirt was caked into my teeth, my nails, my clothes, my hair. I was walking proof monsters existed. If I came upon me in the woods, I’d run.
I spit again, trying to free my mouth of the sour, bloody taste of the dirt, and brush the mud from my hair. Where was I? Which direction should I go?
I had no idea. No idea about any of it. No idea how I got there or where there was. I reached up and touched my scalp, then jerked my hand back in agonizing pain. When I pulled my hand away, warm, sticky blood coated my palm. Though I couldn’t see it clearly in the darkness, I knew what it was. I put my fingers to my scalp again, feeling the open wound just above my temple. A piece of skin hung over, so loose I could’ve pulled it off if it didn’t sting so badly.
I tried to take a step forward, but pain tore through my body, my nerves on high alert. What happened to me?
I ran my hands along my body, down my thigh, and realized it was just as painful, just as wet with blood, but from a different wound. I hobbled forward, brushing dirt from my eyes and mouth with every painful step. It hurt. It all burned and throbbed and ached. Every part of me. I couldn’t seem to remember anything, my mind a dark, foggy mess of fuzzy memories. What was real and what wasn’t? What had I done? What had led me to an early, yet ultimately ineffective grave?
Who tried to kill me?
The last thing I remembered was…her. I remembered the fight. I remembered learning about her. I remembered confronting her. Remembered it all coming together for me at once. I remembered the pain.
Pain.
Physical and emotional. All of it. At the thought, lightning-sharp pain shot through me, and I hobbled and cried and gasped for air as my lungs worked to free the mud from my sticky throat. I bent over, my body rigid with pain and trepidation as I coughed then winced, coughed then winced.
I tasted blood then, and I wondered if it was coming from my head or somewhere else entirely. How else had I been hurt? What had I been through? It was coming back to me slowly, as if I were scraping mud from the memories right along with the rest of my body.
The forest was dense with trees, so thick and so dark, they were all I could make out in the distance. Trees, branches, shadows. The woods were quiet all around me, but as I made it a bit farther, I saw the first sign of light. The moon lit up the night sky above me, giving me glimpses of the forest around me.
The trees were thick, the earth foggy, and my head painful. So, so much pain. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t move. I should’ve looked over the gravesite closer for an explanation as to how I got there, but I had no way to see it and no desire to go back. Whoever put me there obviously believed I was dead, and I knew who it was. Her.
She’d had enough of me getting in her way and decided to end it, but she wasn’t going to do away with me so easily. I wasn’t going down without a fight.
I saw the road then, up ahead, and I forced myself forward. Each step was agonizing, each breath like a scalding dagger to the stomach. I stepped down into the ditch and out of the woods, and then back up the embankment and toward the road. I must look like a nightmare; who would ever stop for me?
To my surprise, someone did. The dark truck pulled to a stop next to me, and the man in the driver’s seat leaned over as he rolled the window down, taking in my appearance. He was old, haggard, worn. The truck smelled of cigarettes and chewing tobacco.
“Do you need some help?” he asked. Question of the century. I obviously had a genius on my hands.
“Yes. Please.”
He reached over further, pushing the door open. He wasn’t afraid of me. Even bloody and covered in dirt, I didn’t appear to be a threat. It must be why I went down so easily. But I felt like I’d been reborn, and I wouldn’t be so easy to take down the next time.
I was coming for what was mine.
I climbed into the truck, the pain of each movement unrelenting. It hurt. It all just…hurt.
He pulled out a cell phone. “Do you want me to call an ambulance? The police?” He swallowed as he stared at me, apparently more afraid now.
“Thank you, but I’ll be okay. Can you just take me home?” I asked. My voice was gravelly and unfamiliar. How long had it been since I used it?
I would be okay, just as soon as I ended this once and for all. I couldn’t do that if the police were involved.
He nodded, his hands shaking as he moved to put the car into drive. “What happened to you?”
I didn’t answer him because I didn’t know. I stared out the window, my body roaring with agony, and all I could think of was how I let myself get here. How I let her ruin my life.
Chapter Two
TWO AND A HALF WEEKS EARLIER
“Careful,” I warned in a whisper as Ben pushed open the door to our home.
He nodded at me, a smile growing on his face as he continued forward, careful not to bump the car seat and its precious cargo as we stepped across the threshold. I was sore in so many ways, the scar on my lower stomach still ached like it might split open whenever I coughed or laughed or sneezed, but I ached in a different way, too…for the baby just a few feet away from me. I hated being separated from him for any length of time. I’d never thought I could be so attached to anyone.