"How many times are you going to make me ask!?"
The door slams open so hard it cracks against the wall.
I flinch, pressing myself deeper into the darkness beneath the bed, my hand clamped tightly over my mouth. The wood above me smells like dust and something sour—old sweat, maybe. My chest burns from trying not to breathe too loudly.
"Fine. Have it your way, you stupid little bitch."
The words hit before he does.
His hand shoots under the bed, fingers brushing wildly until they find my ankle. I don't even have time to pull away.
He yanks.
My body scrapes across the floor, splinters catching against my skin as I'm dragged out into the open.
"Stop—please—please stop," I choke, the words tumbling out too fast, too desperate.
The room is thick with cigar smoke. It clings to everything—the curtains, the air itself. It burns my eyes, makes everything blur at the edges.
My uncle stands over me.
He isn't alone.
Two other men linger behind him, their shadows stretching long across the walls. One leans casually against the dresser, the other by the door, like this is nothing. Like this is normal.
They're smiling.
A sharp kick slams into my stomach, knocking the air out of me. I fold in on myself, sliding across the hardwood floor, the cold biting into my skin through the thin fabric of my clothes.
Laughter follows.
It always does.
I try to crawl—my hands slipping against the polished wood—but something grabs me again, dragging me back like I never moved at all.
A fist connects with my face.
My teeth snap together, a sharp crack ringing in my skull. Something breaks—I taste it immediately, copper flooding my mouth as something small and hard shifts against my tongue.
I swallow it without meaning to.
They pin me down.
My arms. My legs.
Too many hands.
"Why couldn't you just make this easy?" he mutters, cigar still hanging from his lips, the smoke curling lazily upward.
Like this is an inconvenience.
Like I am.
My shirt is ripped open with a harsh tug, fabric tearing against my skin. I twist beneath them, but it's useless. It always is.
I know this.
My body knows this.
Still—I try.
Their laughter grows louder as he unbuckles his belt. I turn my face away, squeezing my eyes shut, but it doesn't matter.
It never matters.
Warmth hits my skin.
I flinch, trying to turn away, but someone grabs my jaw, forcing my face back.
"Look at her," one of them laughs.
Their hands are everywhere—grabbing, pulling—forcing reactions out of me until my throat burns from screaming.
I choke on it.
On them.
On everything.
When they finally let go, it's only because they're bored.
I curl onto my side, shaking, my body folding in on itself like I can disappear if I make myself small enough.
"Which one of you is first this time, boys?" my uncle grins.
"Doesn't matter," one of them says. "As long as we all get a turn."
More laughter.
It echoes.
Lingers.
A hand grips my ankle again—but slower this time.
Different.
I freeze.
His touch drags upward, deliberate, almost careful in a way that makes my stomach twist worse than before.
I look up.
And for a second—
he hesitates.
His eyes linger on me, not like the others. Not laughing. Not mocking.
Just… looking.
Like he's trying to understand something.
Like something about me doesn't make sense.
It only lasts a moment.
Then his mouth curls.
And it's gone.
His fingers hook into my underwear—
rip—
And something inside me finally breaks.
Not strength.
Not courage.
Just… something desperate.
I kick.
Hard.
He stumbles back with a shout, crashing into the floor.
The second one lunges for me—but I'm already moving, scrambling backward, my hand slamming blindly against the stone edge of the fireplace.
Heat bites into my palm as I shove my hand into the ashes.
Pain explodes through my skin—but I don't stop.
I throw it.
The ash scatters into his face.
He screams, clawing at his eyes.
The other one catches it too, cursing as he stumbles back.
It's enough.
Just enough.
I don't think.
I don't hesitate.
I run.
The back door bursts open under my weight, slamming against the side of the house as I stumble out into the night.
Cold air hits me like a shock, tearing through what little warmth my body has left.
The ground is uneven beneath my feet—dirt, scattered leaves, patches of frozen mud—and I nearly fall before catching myself.
Behind me—
yelling.
They're coming.
Of course they are.
I run anyway.
The forest swallows me whole.
Branches claw at my arms, my face, my hair, tearing at me as I push deeper between the trees. The air is sharper here—colder, thinner—each breath cutting into my lungs.
My feet slam against the ground, numb and unsteady, slipping over roots I can't see.
I don't know where I'm going.
I just know I can't stop.
I slip.
The ground disappears beneath me and I tumble down a steep hill, mud soaking through my clothes as I roll—
and then—
water.
Freezing.
It crashes over me, stealing the breath from my chest as I slam into the river.
The shock is immediate. Violent.
I gasp, choking as I fight my way back up, my hands scrambling against the slick rocks beneath me.
The current pulls.
Hard.
I drag myself forward anyway, clawing toward the opposite bank, my body shaking uncontrollably as I collapse onto the mud.
For a second—
I don't move.
I can't.
My limbs feel heavy. Distant.
Like they don't belong to me anymore.
Then—
voices.
Faint.
But getting closer.
I force myself up.
Again.
My legs barely hold me, but I run anyway.
Slower now. Uneven.
The cold has settled deep into my bones, dulling everything. My fingers won't close properly. My feet don't feel like feet anymore—just weight hitting the ground.
I lean against a tree for a moment, my hand brushing against something cold.
Snow.
I flinch, pulling back with a sharp breath, the sting cutting through the numbness.
It would be so easy to stop.
Just for a second.
Just long enough to breathe.
But I know better.
I push forward again.
The forest grows quieter.
Not peaceful.
Just… empty.
The wind moves through the trees with a low, hollow sound, carrying the distant echo of something I don't want to hear.
"Come here, Noel…"
His voice drifts through the dark, too soft. Too familiar.
It wraps around me, sinking in.
"I'll be nicer this time."
A lie.
I shake my head, tears blurring my vision as I keep moving.
Branches snap behind me.
Closer now.
I glance back—
Just in time to see him.
I jerk forward, my foot sliding across a patch of ice as I barely catch myself—
Then the ground drops.
I skid to a stop at the edge—
too late.
He hits me from behind.
And we fall.
The lake is a blur of black and silver beneath us.
Then—
impact.
The ice shatters.
The cold is unbearable this time. It doesn't just shock—it pierces, like something alive crawling beneath my skin.
For a second—
I don't fight.
I don't think.
I just… sink.
But my body refuses to let go.
My arms move, reaching, grasping for anything—
A branch—
It snaps.
The current pulls me under again.
Water fills my mouth as I gasp, choking, my chest burning as I fight my way upward.
I break the surface long enough to suck in air—
Then something strikes my head.
Pain flashes.
Warmth spreads.
My vision blurs.
Everything slows.
My arms grow heavy.
The fight slips away.
And for the first time—
it feels quiet.
A hand grabs me.
Rough. Firm.
Dragging me upward.
I'm pulled from the water and thrown onto the ground, my body collapsing against the cold earth.
I gasp, coughing violently, water spilling from my lungs as I thrash blindly.
"Let me go—please—I'm not going back—"
"I'm not taking you back anywhere."
The voice cuts through everything.
Different.
Not him.
Not them.
My vision flickers, struggling to focus.
Boots.
Dark.
Still.
Then he kneels in front of me.
Green eyes catch the light—bright against the darkness, fixed on me in a way that makes something in my chest tighten.
He doesn't touch me again.
Doesn't rush.
Just… watches.
Like he's waiting for something.
Fear surges back through me all at once.
I try to stand.
"I have to go—"
My body gives out.
Everything tilts.
And then—
nothing.
"Please…" I whisper, barely hearing my own voice. "I don't want to go back…"