Page 46 of Pocketful of Us

I could breathe later.

Bobbing and weaving between trees, I ran deeper in the woods, not stopping until my hands had a firm grasp on the old ladder.

Feet finding the rickety steps, I didn’t hesitate to climb the ladder I had fallen off only a few short months ago. Moving quickly now, I ignored the burning explosion in my knee and kept moving, dragging my body to the very top.

I was breathing so hard I could hear the gasping sounds coming from my throat. A mixture of fear and exhaustion, the cause of my burning lungs, no doubt.

It doesn’t matter.

Find safety.

Protect your baby!

When I reached the top, I dragged myself through the tiny entryway. Falling onto to my hands and knees, I desperately gulped in mouthfuls of air as exhaustion crept into my bones.

I did it.

I actually freaking did it.

My relief lasted only a millisecond before a large hand covered my mouth and then I was being dragged further into the treehouse, deeper into the darkness.

21

Romi

My back hit the floor of the treehouse not a moment later, followed swiftly by a hard body landing roughly on top of me, and I dropped my gun.

One large hand came down on my mouth again, and the other gripped my throat.

Unable to scream or call for help, not that anyone was coming to help me if I could, I ripped and tore at the hand cutting off my air supply, digging my nails so deep into the skin, I could only pray that I had drawn blood.

Fiercely fighting for my right to live, for my baby's right to live, I bit down hard on the hand and sucked in a ragged breath when my attacker released me. Twisting onto my hands and knees, I scrambled away, putting as much space between me and my attacker as I could in the small space.

"Jesus fucking Christ," a familiar voice hissed in the darkness, cradling his hand.

I froze.

Completely freaking froze.

Eyes glued to the dark silhouette in front of me, I shuffled forward on my hands and knees, not stopping until my knees brushed against his.

Taking a wild leap of faith, I reached up and pushed his hood down.

Blue eyes landed on my face. They were full of fire and venom but quickly morphed into relief and recognition.

Every ounce of air in my poor, neglected lungs fled my body in an audible gasp.

My entire frame started to shake violently.

My heart, my poor fragile heart, almost beat its way out of my chest.

"Sketch?"

He was here.

He was alive.

He made it.

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