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CHAPTER 15

The soles of my shoes pounded the ice-capped pavement as I ran full-speed ahead down the neighborhood street. Houses were lit up like it was Candy Cane Lane. The colorful bulbs glittered through a light dusting of fresh snow, and it was just the touch of magic I needed.

I’d taken up running a few months before I’d started training. Not even a bitter, blizzard-heavy winter had been able to squash my drive; on the contrary, it’d only fueled my fire, melting every iceberg and snowy avalanche that stood in my way.

Another road block? Great, I’d plow through it. Another obstacle tossed in front of me? I’d leap the hell over it. I would turn every setback into a stepping stone until I was unbreakable.

Father wouldn’t win.

His hold over me would perish. His bones would crumble under the weight of my resolve. My bruises would become trophies, my scars souvenirs.

Narratives could always be rewritten. My story thus far was nothing more than a messy first draft. I was the main character in my own life, and I refused—refused—to fall secondary to the villain.

My chest ached and my lungs stretched with each forward push. The tendons in my legs burned, straining and pulling.

I didn’t care. I kept going.

I wasn’t done yet.

I wasn’t done…until I was done.

As I zipped around a corner with lightning speed, my foot slipped on a patch of ice. I was going too fast, turning too quickly, and my attempt to prevent a devastating nosedive resulted in an overcorrection that sent me stumbling and flailing.

I flew forward.

Face first.

Chin to concrete.

My hands shot in front of me to take the brunt of the fall, but it wasn’t enough. I hit the ground as gravel and chunks of ice lodged in the heels of my palms, and my chin scraped against the pavement. It felt like I was sliding forever before I came to a stop in the middle of the quiet street.

No one was around.

It was five a.m. on Christmas morning. Anyone who wasn’t still asleep was likely gathered around the tree with robes and coffee mugs, watching tiny children tear open presents.

It took three seconds for the pain to hit.

My jaw ached and throbbed, and my flesh screamed in agony. Tears exploded behind my eyes but I refused to let them fall.

Too many tears.

Too much salt had streaked down my cheeks for one lifetime.

I wouldn’t succumb.

As my body pulsed with pain from head to toe, I painstakingly lifted myself from the roadway and surveyed the aftermath. My hands were mangled, blood staining the snow from white to pink where my face had crash-landed.

I was a wreck.

Hissing through my teeth, I stood fully to wobbling legs and limped the two blocks home to Tara’s house. I slipped through the front door, shivering from pain and cold, and tried to stay quiet since everyone was still asleep.

Everyone except for Reed, who was seated on the couch in a T-shirt and pajama pants, after crashing on the sofa the night before in lieu of the holiday.

Crap.

I hoped to whiz by him unnoticed, but the house’s stark silence was an awful traitor, and his head jerked in my direction when the floorboards creaked.

He leaped up from the couch, discarding his coffee mug. “Halley, what the fuck.”

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