Page 2 of Wanted

“Go to hell,” I spit.

Blood trickles from my lip. A peek in the side view mirror confirms a river of crimson dividing the pale skin of my chin. It drips steadily onto the white fabric stretched across my chest visible between the open zipper of my coat.

With the back of my hand, I swipe angrily at my face.

I can’t do this. I’m getting out of here. If he’s not willing to stop, then I have to save myself. The decision sends my heart into a frenzy.

I check the side of the road as Dillon accelerates slowly again. A road sign flashes past my window, leaving nothing standing in my way. Nothing to hurt me but the ground itself. The ditch is a little steep, but the tumble should help disperse the kinetic energy.

I swallow hard.

I think about flying, about stretching my body out low to the ground before tucking into a roll. Protect your head, I remind myself as fear slithers through my veins.

With possibly the last deep breath I’ll ever take filling my lungs, I open the door with my left hand and, pushing off with my right foot, I throw myself out.

I land heavily in a ditch, and the air squeezes from my chest, leaving me breathless. My head bounces off the solid ground. My right arm crumples beneath the weight of my body. The crack is audible above the sound of car tires racing away. Clenching my jaw, I bite back a scream. Only a whimper escapes between my teeth.

Time passes unchecked as I lie motionless, my body nothing but one giant pulsing heartbeat on the ground.

Sticks and debris tear into the fabric covering my knees to burrow in my skin. Pain saturates my body. Feeling the throb in my arm that took the brunt of the tumble, I cradle it close and regain my feet, stumbling into the trees lining the side of the highway.

I blink heavily against a hazy confusion.

I need to create distance. I’m not going back to him. There’s no way he’ll let me go if he finds me again.

I stagger through the puddles leftover from melting snow, half running, half stumbling over hidden branches and rocks on the terrain. Pain and fear hinder the breath in my lungs. I wrap my coat tighter around my body despite the sweat I’ve worked up because I know I’ll need the heat once I stop moving. The wet areas on my clothes from landing on the damp ground will freeze as the temperature drops. Half dressed at best, I can only be grateful I chose a dress with a long skirt to keep my legs covered.

Tears stick to my cheeks. Icy and biting in the cool Minnesota spring air. I keep going, moving as fast as I can until I come to a fence.

Glancing behind me, I pause and catch my breath. There’s no sign of Dillon. No indication that he stopped the car to pursue me on foot.

If I wasn’t flooded with adrenaline, I’d realize it’s not in Dillon’s nature to stop. He never cared enough about me to inconvenience himself, and he never needed me as much as I thought I needed him.

But I’m not thinking clearly right now. Not when I’m this scared and in this much pain. So I keep moving as if he’s only steps behind.

The fence is a wire mesh material with wooden posts. Not exactly easy to slip my foot into and climb up with only one good arm.

I walk the perimeter for a while, searching for an entry point, but whoever owns this fence must maintain it because there’s not a single flaw I can utilize to crawl through.

Which means I have to go over.

With only one working arm.

Gritting my teeth against the pain and chill, I traipse down a little farther.

My stomach recoils at the thought of the broken bone and the fresh burst of pain with my every move. I sway on my feet as the horizon tilts. Squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to reset my equilibrium, I let out a steady breath.

When I open them again, determination rises to get me over this fence.

I scan every section of metal as I pass, begging for something to help me, but time’s up at the hum of tires approaching on the nearby road.

“Shit.”

I don’t know if it’s Dillon, but I don’t have time to assess the situation. If he’s come back for me, it’ll be too late to get away by the time I see him. He’ll drag me back to the car and force me to… to...

The thought slips away on a gust of wind.

I attempt to pull myself over with my good arm. The inflexible rubber of my soles makes climbing impossible. A frustrated grunt tickles my throat.

---