Page 81 of That's Not My Name

Rage washes over me. White-hot fucking rage. No. No way. He doesn’t get to make me disappear too.

The storm picks up, slamming into the ground, and another branch snaps behind me. I whip around and this time I’m right. Wayne’s standing behind me.

He glances at the hole in the ground, and then at me, as we’re both slowly soaked by the storm. He looks positively bored and tsk-tsks at me. “Oh, Mary. You always ruin everything.”

I stare at his blank fucking face and smash my rock into his temple, driving his whole head to the side. He drops to his right knee, his eyes unfocused, as a river of blood runs down his cheek.

And Irun.

His roar of pain weaves through the trees behind me. I tear through the forest, moving as fast as my legs will take me. Branches rip at my face. Rocks press into the too-thin soles of these shoes. Thorns grab at my jacket, tugging, pulling, scratching.

I havenoidea where he is. If he’s stunned, or bleeding, or dying…or charging through the forest behind me. I don’t dare look, and I can’t hear anything above the roaring pulse in my ears. I run like my life depends on it, because it most certainly does.

At first, I don’t know where I’m headed, considering I just foundmy neighbor’s dead body. But Ben mentioned a wife. If there’s any justice left in this goddamned world, she’ll be home, because if Wayne’snotdead, I doubt I’ll make it farther than the house next door.

Rain pours through the trees, drenching my clothes and hair until it feels like I’ve climbed from the river. I burst from the trees, and for a second, I think I’ve made it to the neighbor’s yard, but it’s a clearing of weeping knee-high grass and huge rocks the size of picnic tables. The angry gray sky stretches out ahead of me, and a rumble of thunder shakes the trees.

I launch myself through the clearing, heading for the closest patch of trees so I’ll be under cover faster. With a jolt, I realize there’s smoke rising from beyond those trees. Chimney smoke.

Sheishome.

My legs move faster. My lungs catch fire. I can do this. I can make it.

Something crashes through the trees behind me, and I glance back over my shoulder, stomach filling with dread as Wayne bursts through the branches and into the little field. He looks wildly from side to side before he spots me. Blood coats his neck and the top of his shirt. He pins me with an icy stare, and I dive back into the trees.

I won’t look back again.

“I’ll find you…” he calls.

Except he doesn’t say that. Notthistime.

All at once, I remember what happened.

I remember him coming up from behind me as I checked the mail at home. Dragging me away—into this life, into this place. I remember waking up in the van as it rumbled up the mountain in the dark. I remember lying on my side, scared shitless as I pieced together what was happening. I remember using a trick I saw on YouTube to break the zip tie around my wrists. I remember pretending to be asleep when thevan came to a stop at the cabin, and then lurching to my feet before he could open the back door. I remember throwing myself against the door when he cracked it open, knocking him flat on his ass in the driveway as I ran for the road in the middle of the night, screaming for my mom.

I remember the trees, branches like fingers.

I remember the cold night air on my bare arms.

I remember his voice behind me, like he wanted me toknowhe was there. That he was close. That I wouldn’t get away.

“Get back here right now, young lady.”

He doesn’t call out this time. He just hunts.

Memories mix with my vision of the trees, flashing between the storm currently raging around me and what happened five nights ago. There was no car accident, no trip from McMinnville, no house renovations. Just Wayne chasing me through the woods until I somehow ended up on that road.

I can’t breathe.

I see a house through the trees. I’m almost there. I get glimpses of blue paint and whiffs of wood-burning smoke from the brick chimney. The outline of a bay window with a light inside.

My salvation.

I’m so close she could probably hear me scream if I could only muster enough breath. I’m gasping. I’m on fire. I can’t feel my legs, my hands, my face.

Ten feet until I’m free of the trees. I see the lawn, brown and dormant.

Five.

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