Page 126 of Corpse Roads

After running from Hunter and a house full of painful secrets, my feet lead me in one direction. Somehow, I knew that she’d be here.

I find her at the back of the deserted graveyard, with her headstone covered in frost-bitten vines. The little girl that haunts the eyes of my long-lost family.

Leticia Kensington.

Beloved Daughter.

Gone, but not forgotten.

They buried me. Wept. Prayed. Mourned an empty, child-sized coffin. My own family gave up on the hope of ever finding me alive. It feels like they never cared at all.

Ignoring the wail of distant police sirens and helicopter rotors beating through the stormy air, I curl into a ball next to my own grave. Six feet lower, the box I belong in lies untouched.

I should dig through the frozen ground and crawl into it. I’m desecrating the earth I lie on, infecting it with the evil sins bursting out of my pores. The world has forsaken me.

“Harlow!” someone shouts.

I cover my head with my arms, hiding from sight. The sunlight is fading, and the graveyard’s shadows conceal me from sight, but I know that won’t stop them from hunting me down.

“Harlow? There you are.”

His booted feet stop a few inches away. My teeth are chattering together, I’m so cold. Exhaustion has set in after hours of lying on the cold, hard ground, letting the snow settle on my body.

Squatting down, he pulls my arms aside to check my face. Hysteria climbs up my throat, begging for an exit, but no scream comes out. I don’t recognise him.

“You must be Hunter’s whore.” The man chortles as he studies me. “Nice of you to slip away from your guard dog. You did my job for me.”

“You’re n-not one of the guys,” I garble out.

His thin lips pull into a grin. “I’m a friend. Come along, we need to get out of here before that helicopter lands.”

I wish I could say that I fought. Screamed. Bucked and thrashed. The stranger wraps his strong arms around me and I’m weightless, tossed over his shoulder as a needle slides into my neck.

Perhaps I was always born to be captive, like those animals in the zoo that can’t breathe fresh air without having a heart attack. They need four walls of impenetrable bars to survive.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, stroking my mane of soaking-wet hair. “Go to sleep, Harlow. Sabre can’t save you now.”

The afterlife beckons me with open arms as I slip unconscious. Ghosts welcome me home. Familiar faces, screams, pleas for help. One heart-shaped face stands out.

Laura.

This is your punishment.

You never deserved to escape.

I’ll be seeing you soon.

Far-off shouting and the blare of a ringing phone cuts through the fog engulfing me. Laura smiles, slow and lazy, before she’s swallowed whole by the light burning my retinas.

Agony lances through my temples as I lift my head. Shadows fade, and a dimly lit room settles around me. The curved walls are made of bare, roughened stone. Cobwebs. Discarded needles. Ashes and cigarette butts.

This isn’t the basement.

Pastor Michaels hasn’t found me.

Dragging myself up, my knees knock together as I fight to remain upright without passing back out. I’m dressed in my jeans and the ripped linen shirt, stained with blood and filth.

Gritting my teeth, I search the strangely shaped room. There’s a small window that’s been boarded over with wood. I can hear the wind whistling through it. We must be near the sea.

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