I lean back on my elbows, unable to move, unable to peel my eyes away from his hands as he unzips his pants and lets them fall to the floor.
He kneels on the bed, hovering over me. My chest heaves with anticipation. Strong hands tug on the hem of my pyjama shorts to pull them down.
I swallow the lump in my throat and will myself to stay calm. I haven’t had sex for years and now, at the crucial moment, anxiety rears its ugly head, taunting me. This is wrong.
When he’s over me, he leans down, and his lips meet mine again. One hand goes under my back and he pulls me close, smothering me in kisses.
It’s one night. It means nothing. Stop thinking! I clamp my eyes shut as Carter tugs my tank top down to circle my nipple with his velvet smooth tongue. Sucking, nuzzling, devouring my flesh with soft, greedy lips. A hand slides down my waist until his fingers find me, wet with arousal, aching for his touch.
“Perfect.” He groans as his fingers delve deep inside me.
I need this. I want this.
He pumps his fingers in and out... in and out. Gentle, slow movements. My heart is caught in my throat and for the briefest moment, I forget to breathe.
When he removes his fingers and replaces them with his cock, I involuntarily freeze. I don’t want this. I can’t do this. I have to stop. Carter’s hand slides up my arm, holding it tight above my head.
The memories rush back with a vengeance. “Stop,” I shout. “No, no... Let me—”
I struggle beneath him, crying, screaming, and choking on each breath as though he’s holding me down—I’m suffocating. “Get off me!” I scream while pushing him back.
I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them with my eyes clamped shut. My head spins with memories of abuse, torture, and pain. No. Not again. “No, no, no.”
When a warm hand touches my shoulder, I jump a mile.
“Em... Ember... I’m sorry. Please tell me what’s wrong. Are you okay?”
When I look up, his eyes are fixed on mine. In them I see the terror as if it’s being reflected in my own eyes. The tears fall faster than I can stop them. “Please just leave,” I beg. “I’m sorry. I was wrong. This was wrong.”
I drop my head as Carter leaves, and when I hear the front door close, I pull my blankets up and snuggle beneath them wishing I wasn’t alone. It should have been Steel.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Don’t look back.
SAMANTHA ROSE
18 years old
MY FEET HIT THE DIRT, crunching through the gravel. Every step is a painful reminder of why I am running, but I can’t stop. I will run until my legs give way, and then, I will crawl if I have to. I cannot go back.
The beat of my heart sends pulses of electricity through my veins, or perhaps it’s adrenaline. Whatever it is, I need it because if I look back, I might give up.
An hour later, I finally decide to rest in the middle of a tree-lined forest I quickly discover is a pine plantation. Far off in the distance two men are standing at the base of a tree with a pile of rope at their feet.
It’s too soon for me to stop but my knees are weak, and my lungs have forgotten how to fill with much needed oxygen. Just a few minutes. I lean forward and plant my hands on my hips taking in one long deep breath after another. The clean air fills my lungs, and the scent of pine and freshly cut timber fills my nose.
It’s early morning, 5am. The sun is beginning to rise higher in the sky. Leaving this early was my only chance. I wouldn’t have survived through the night, not without light or shelter. Plus, my sense of direction is non-existent since I’ve been locked inside a house for over half of my eighteen years.
A loud crack in the distance causes me to jump a mile. I swallow the lump in my throat and lean against a tree when a firm hand touches my shoulder. My first instinct is to scream, but I clench my jaw and hold my breath while my heart tries in vain to burst through my ribcage. Would rather die than go back.
“Hey darlin’, what you doin’ all the way out here?”
With an inhale I turn around to see a man wearing blue overalls and a bright yellow shirt. On his head is a plastic hard hat. I stare at him, speechless. Do I tell him everything? Do I keep running? My mind is a cyclone of thoughts tearing me to pieces, confusing me with what I should and should not do.
“You okay?”
I nod slightly and look at the badge clipped to his overalls. His name is Joseph, and above his name it reads, South Ember Pine Plantation.
His eyes travel up and down from my bare feet, to my grey track pants, and up to my stained white tank top. “You runnin’ away? Bet you got your parents worried.”
When I don’t answer he extends his hand to take mine, he cocks his head and I know he’s looking at the scars, bruises and track marks on my arm. “You a druggie?”
I shake my head hard. “No... no, I’m not. I’m not. Please just let me go, I won’t come back.” The tears well in my eyes until they spill down my cheeks. “I just need to run, please let me go.” I pull my hand from his and drop it by my side.
When I hear voices coming closer, I panic. If they’ve found me, they will kill me.
He must notice the fear in my eyes because he steps across so he’s standing beside me as two more men appear. They look me up and down, then shake their heads. “Another run away, Joe? You’d think they know better than to come into a logging forest, hey.”
After a short discussion about where I could be from, and where I might be going, the three men decide they’ll lead me back to their site office so they can call someone to collect me.
Before that happens, I make a run for it. I don’t know where I’m heading, but I run until I trip over a log and fall flat on my face in the dirt.
A puffing Joseph stands over me. “Okay, kiddo, up ya get.”
I shake my head. “I can’t go back,” I shout, “let me go.”
He steps back with his hands raised in defence. “Your parents did that to ya?” He nods toward my arms as I get to my feet and brush the grass and dirt off my pants.
I nod slightly.
“Where you headed?” His tone is softer now.
I shrug.
“Follow me. I have some of my daughter’s clothes in the truck.”
I follow along behind him as he continues talking, “She’s about your age, maybe older. Went on a campin’ trip couple weeks back.” He laughs and shakes his head and I imagine he’s smiling, but he doesn’t turn around. “Told her to get her stuff out my truck before I throw it out.” He laughs again, and I catch up to him, feeling strangely safe in his company.
“How old is your daughter?”
“Fifteen. Jeez, she’s growing up fast.”
“I’m eighteen.”
He stops and looks down at me. “Eighteen? You sure about that, darlin’? You don’t look older than fourteen... fifteen maybe.”
“It’s the only thing I am sure about,” I admit.
By the time we reach the site office my feet are sore and I’m sure there are a few cuts and scratches there as well, but I can’t bring myself to check.
Before we go into the office, Joe leads me to his truck, which is huge. Bigger than any truck I’ve ever seen. It’s bright red with silver steps leading up to the door.