Page 42 of After Our Kiss

He wasn't someone who had ever loved me.

His purpose was to peel my skin back and erase my heart.

Locking the door behind me, I ran down the hallway.

****

It was dark outside. My ears echoed with my frantic panting; I bumped into walls, boxes, and things I couldn't name. But the pain just drove me on.

Bluish light illuminated the main room through the front door. It peeked through the cracks of the boarded up windows, my eyes finally adjusting. Sweat stained my entire back as I gripped the door handle. It wasn't locked; it opened after a single twist.

On bare feet I jumped the steps, skidding on gravel, sprawling hard. I cried out sharply when my elbow slammed down. The bloodstained mirror fell from my grip. I wasted a few precious minutes until I found it glinting on the pale sand. I refused to lose the one weapon I had.

The moon behind its shawl of clouds guided me down the path.Run, run, go! Be faster go faster just move!My strides were long as a deer's—I bounced into the chain fence, unable to pull up in time. Slick fingers scraped over the metal, seeking the gate's opening. I was shaking all over, my skull feeling like it was spreading. I expected it to burst.

Behind me, on the path, someone called my name.

Sucking in air like I was one breath short of dying, I gripped the padlock. Lonnie's keys jingled as they hit the ground. “Fuck!” I sobbed, crouching in the shadows, hands clawing in the sand. I couldn't see anything!

“Georgia! Georgia!” Conway shouted.

There was a dream I used to have, one of the only semi-pleasant ones about being kidnapped. In it, I was racing for the trees while Facile roared like a rabid bear in the distance. Safety kept getting farther and farther away. I couldn't escape.

Not without him.

So unlike what had really happened, I'd looked back. There was Conway with his mysterious, youthful smile. He grabbed my hand and ran away with me. It was what I'd always wished for. The ending I really wanted.

And here I was now, runningfromhim.

My nails touched metal—I grabbed the keys. Sweat and tears mixed on my cheeks. The telltale crunch of feet pounding on the ground rose up behind me. I had too many keys to test. What did these all go to? One by one I tried them; a thin copper key, a jagged one shaped like a house key, one meant for a vehicle of some kind.

Closing my eyes, I tested the fourth key of the set. It fit, opening the padlock, the gate creaking as I forced it wide. I looked over my shoulder. The figure rushing towards me was all shadow and breakneck speed. Conway's eyes glowed, challenging the moon to shine brighter.

Then I saw Lonnie was with him.

How did he get free?

Turning, I raced across the bent wooden planks of the dock. The water sloshed, calmer than I'd last seen it. This side of the island resisted the waves. I didn't know enough about the ocean to understand if it was due to direction, shape, or time of day. It comforted me enough to consider jumping in and forgetting the boat entirely.

Fumbling with the rope on the nearest boat, I remembered how easily Conway had worked with it. His hands had the same ease when he touched me. Gritting my teeth, I gave up being gentle; I hacked at the rope with my piece of mirror.

The fibers frayed. Conway's shoes hammered on the dock. Panicked, I cut my own hands with the shard, blood spreading on the wood, the water, until the rope snapped and my lovely man-made weapon splashed into the ocean. It had been more useful than I'd imagined.

I spotted Conway from the corner of my eye just as I ducked into the boat, fighting with the oars to make it move. “Georgia!” he growled, bending down, reaching for my arms. He caught me by my sweater.

“Let go of me!” I screamed, trying to shrug him off. He was too strong. I couldn't pull.

So I pushed.

Wide-eyed, he tumbled backwards, letting go of me and vanishing on the other side of the dock. Black water fanned upwards; I was free.

Lonnie was standing nearby. Just watching.

Not caring about the reason for this burst of luck, I began to row. My hands burned from their fresh cuts—but that wasn't why I struggled. I'd never rowed a boat before. I didn't know what I was doing.

Conway parted the gentle waves with powerful strokes. He came at me like a shark, too fast and ready to strike for me to avoid. He hoisted himself into my boat, and I expected his face to be painted with anger.

Shaking water from his hair, he sat opposite of me, his eyes heavy with sorrow. “Is this really what I've driven you to? Will you keep risking your own safety, just to get away from me?”

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