(Blood and Bone, #2) Sin and Swoon(30)

I hate myself for thinking it, but I don’t believe they deserve the freedom my friend—no, my sister—died for. She became family in there, in that hole.

I run down into the ditch, splashing the frigid water up my legs as I make my way to the closest driveway. I’m out of breath and light-headed, but clear enough in thought to realize the closest cabin is a mistake. He’ll go there once he realizes I haven’t made it to the bottom of the hill.

I run past the second driveway, scrambling from the ditch and crossing it carefully. When I get to the third driveway I almost run up it, but my brother’s voice rings through my head. “Three times lucky.” I don’t know why; perhaps because I’m a bit dehydrated and exhausted and my mental state is a mess.

The fourth driveway is a ways down the hill. The blind corners along the road frighten me. I struggle to get past the ditches and rocks. My feet have stopped hurting, with the cold water making them numb.

Breathlessly, I climb up into the fourth driveway, staggering and limping as my muscles freeze up.

I back up the driveway, forcing myself to watch the road and woods, in case he’s there somehow. He’s smarter than I am.

My legs buckle, dropping me like a sack of rocks to the gravel. I wince, feeling the jarring in my neck, but I grip the cold rocks and scramble back up.

A shrill noise rips through the air. It’s an animal, but I don’t know what it is. It sounds terrifying and close by. I hurry, limping brutally because the lower part of my left leg has gone totally numb.

The cabin is nicer than his, but has no barn for the ATVs and snowmobiles. I hurry to the back, trying every window and door. None are open or unlocked. I slide down the back of the door, desperate to rest a minute and listen for him. I’m just grateful the snow hasn’t fallen up here yet. The path would lead him right to me.

Every sound becomes louder as my breath softens in hesitation. I expect him to run from the woods any moment, leash and collar in hand, to drag me back to my cell like a caged animal. I expect him to make me beg and make me tell him I love him and he’s the man for me. I expect to die crying and begging for it—not his love but death itself.

My eyes long to close, my body whispers Let’s give up as my heart aches from the memories that are filtering back in. Memories I will never be rid of or solve even. I won’t ever know what it all meant to him, what I am to him. What I am representing or curing. What void I am filling. What in God’s name could have happened to him to make him so evil?

A sound catches my cold ears. I glance up into the darkening sky as snowflakes begin to fall. A tear drips from my eye as I realize it’s the first snow of the season. It’s the first snow I have seen in a very long time. Each flake feels like a little burst of energy and bravery. Each one is a kiss from my friend, whispering for me to run more. Run down the hill. Find a vehicle. It’s what Jane would have done.

The sound gets louder as I realize it’s a vehicle making its way up the hill.

I push away the sound of the tires skidding around the gravel corners, and stare up into the sky as it becomes like a vortex. The flakes swirl, taking my care and depth perception away. I tilt my head even more, letting the fat flakes fall into my mouth and land on my lashes.

I don’t close my eyes. I don’t try to block out the sound as it gets closer. I stare up into the snow and force a memory, one of a time I was happy. It was a moment, fleeting and precious. Her face makes me happy. She brings me joy as she becomes all I see in the swirling snow. Jane laughing and talking and living. Jane the way she was before Rory put us in a cage and made us something in his image.

I close my eyes and whisper to her, “Thank you, Jane.” When I open them I have a plan.





11. Poisoned princesses in a row




The cage is different than it was last time.

He’s different too.

He’s no longer my prince; he no longer loves me.

Now, hours later, my wrists tear a bit, dripping blood down them onto my shoulders and back. I hang from a meat hook, suspended for his pleasure. It changes daily. Sometimes it’s the back of a hand, others it’s the feel of a rope stinging my back with every whip. The room is not a nice place. It’s not a proper cell. It’s just a spot for him to torture. And there is light here, just enough that I might see the hate on his face when he strikes me.

Jane walks through the room. At first I assume I’m dead too, but then I realize there’s just too much pain for me to be dead. Even God is not that cruel.

“Hold on, Ash. You are so close to being free.” Her voice is a whisper on the wind, and her lips do not move. She smiles at me and then she’s gone. She looks different now, peaceful and pretty, and for some reason I want to call her Bethany.