* * *
I wake with a gasp.
My heart pounds against my chest, echoing in my ears. A thin veil of sweat lines my hairline. My lungs work in hyperdrive as I pant.
The inside of the bus is quiet as everyone sleeps during the long ride.
It was just a nightmare.
I blink to clear the sting from my eyes then rest against the seat once more.
I struggle to catch my breath and calm my racing heart.
The ache in my chest amplifies with each mile I put between me and the life I’m leaving behind.
Grimacing, I rub the heel of my palm against the spot, but it doesn’t lessen the pain.
Hopefully, all this effort I’m putting into running from this burn in my soul is worth it.
I’m in the middle of bumfuck nowhere Connecticut. I didn’t even know there was a bumfuck nowhere in Connecticut.
Like a dumbass, I got off at the wrong stop. It wasn’t until I was several miles from the bus station that I realized I was truly lost.
I’m sweaty. I’m tired. I’m hungry.
There is nothing for miles and I sure as shit don’t plan to go back to the bus station when I’m already this far away.
I stumble upon a dirt road that is shaded by a canopy of trees.
Thank God.
I make a beeline toward the trees. I feel like dancing when thecoolness of the shadows moves across my skin.
Rather than continuing down the path and risk getting even more lost, I opt to rest for a while before resuming my journey.
Swinging my backpack off my shoulders, I plop myself against the trunk of the closest tree.
“Come on,” I mutter, digging through my backpack in hopes of finding a granola bar. Honestly, I’d take a crumb at this point.
I freeze when I hear what sounds like footsteps.
When it seems to be traveling parallel to me and not toward me, I slowly zip my bag closed and crouch lower to the ground. I try to peak through the trees for the source of the sound.
Nothing.
My blood begins to pump and apprehension flows. With a wide smile, I move to follow the noise.
At the end of the path is a bridge; a ravine with rapidly flowing water runs below.
As I get closer, I spot a girl standing too close to the edge for my liking.
“What are you doing?” I whisper to myself with a raise of my brow. I creep closer and pause when a bright glint appears in her hand.
Squinting, I lean forward, trying to get a better look.
My stomach lurches as she moves closer to the edge of the bridge. I stand, getting ready to interrupt whatever she plans to do.
When I see the glint of a pocketknife in her hand, I take off in a run.