Maybe my savior won’t turn out to be some killer creep.
Maybe he really will just be a normal guy who felt like playing the hero.
A scream sounds, breaking through my haze. I’m thrust back into reality and I squeeze my eyes shut harder. Soon the pressure on my back is gone and I realize I need to move. This might be my only chance to escape.
I need to move.
I hear fighting, but I stay perfectly still. I can’t breathe. Everything is too tight: the world is too close together.
I need
to move.
I blink open and my head swims with pain.
I need to move.
I reach forward and claw at the ground, pulling myself forward. I have to escape. I have to move. I have to get away from here while I still can.
Everything I’ve ever hoped for is gone. My life has faded away and become a shell of nothingness, but I won’t let this break me. I can’t.
My mind clears enough to remind me that I have to keep going. I’ll get to the trees and crawl to a hiding place. Surely I can find a cave or a hole or a bush to hide under. There must be something. I’ve made it this far. I don’t want to let it be for nothing.
I won’t let this all be for nothing.
Grandmother might be dead, but that doesn’t give me a free pass to just give up. Just because I’ve lost the light of my life doesn’t mean I will stop fighting for my future.
I won’t let her death be for nothing.
Dirt and mud sticks beneath my nails as I slowly pull my way forward. I’m on my belly on the dirt, like a snake, and I slowly slither toward the trees.
The sounds of battle fade away and soon it’s just me and the forest.
I don’t stop to think about what that means until I hear a voice.
“Red.”
I keep pulling. I don’t know how this person knows my name or what he wants, but I can’t let him get me. I have to fight. I have to keep going.
I might be bleeding, dying, left for dead, but I won’t give up.
“Red.”
The voice is firmer this time, and closer.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Go away,” I say to the voice. Go away, leave me alone, leave me here to die on my own. I reach forward, my fingers clawing at the dirt, trying to pull myself.
Escape is close. I can almost touch it. I can taste it.
So close.
“Red,” the voice sounds urgent now, pained. “Red, look at me. Are you all right?”
“No,” I shake my head. My eyes are closed. I won’t open them. Not for this stranger. Not for anyone.
“Red. Open your eyes.”