90 DEADLY DAYS (WEEKLY UPDATES RETURNING THIS DECEMBER)

Chapter 17

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Chapter 17

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Sometimes, I just want to close my eyes and go to that peaceful place I dream of.

Sometimes, I want to sleep until everything is okay again, until I know that I can trust tomorrow.

"Wake up!"

A piercing pain erupts in my side. I can't breathe, though I think my attacker was hoping more for a cracked rib. Gasping sharply, I inspect hovering eyes filled with unfiltered hate. My hands cradle my wounded side. I blink away tears, biting my bottom lip so I won't cry out.

"You overslept," Raze hisses, leaning down towards me. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"It was an accident. And that's no reason to kick anyone like that."

"I do what I want, Phee-phee. Especially when I have to wake up a girl who almost got me killed!"

I stand up, still clutching my side, and hobble towards the watch post at the edge of the clearing. The desire to leave makes me hurry. Raze's eyes are on my back as I stagger, burning holes in my flesh. My legs itch to run.

"Oh," he suddenly says, "I wouldn't tell anyone how you bruised your side."

Turning around, I catch sight of his figure in the early morning light.

"Are you threatening me?"

He chuckles before tramping away, his laughs eerily empty. Shivers trail down my spine. I shift into a swift jog. My conscience waxes silent as I barrel into the jungle, leaving the Fortunate pack behind. The promise I made the night before emerges forgotten and revoked. I won't stay a moment longer when someone like Raze prowls about.

Especially since I know this is only the beginning. Threats turn into promises and promises into actions. Pretty soon, one finds themselves choked in impossible chains, freedom a distant memory.

That's how it starts.

That's how it always starts.

The low morning temperature chills my skin. Goosebumps rise on the exposed parts of my legs and arms. I'm not altogether sure if it is just the cold giving me goosebumps though. The danger hastily becoming farther away still frightens me.

Raze's eyes flash in front of me, reminding me of Cuth's beautiful irises that hid so much. Pausing, I grip a tree for support and wait until the world stops spinning.

It does, hastily replaced by the sensation of hands gripping me harshly and someone whispering in my ear. Their words come through intelligible and that's a blessing. If I could understand what they said my cheeks would burn with fires of shame.

The pit of blackness hidden in depths of an unknown I dare not explore opens, immersing me in the awful past. I grip the tree tighter and beg no one in particular to make it all go away.

It doesn't.

It never will.

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I scuffle through underbrush for a long time, tearing the soles of my worn moccasins. My lips crack and dry. Thirst leaves my mouth foamy. I stop at a trickling stream and rest in the mud on it's shores.

Leaning my head back, I let the warm sun tickle my face. The stream's water seems drinkable. Unlike the clear water my tracker advised me to drink, it's an ugly brown.

Dana said it was safe to listen to your tracker until the fiftieth day. After that it purposely led him to danger.

That fact unsettles my stomach, especially after Dana said that every year the shadowlands change the date. What if the day when your tracker becomes your enemy is different? What if it already passed?