Hero

31

The thicket of trees I’ve spent months longingly watching from my window looms ahead. I don’t look back. I don’t hesitate. My heart thuds at the same pace that my bare feet pound the manicured lawn.

If I can make it to the forest, I’ll be free. I’m still in New Rhone, and if my suspicions about my location are correct, the other side will put me within a couple miles of the city. Just on the other side there are people, cars, police, Hero. Everything that represents hope and life. The forest seems massive, but I’ll reach the end eventually. In this moment, I am free.

Once under the canopy of trees, I keep running. Energy and adrenaline feed my burning legs and lungs. My face is on fire, my breaths short and fast, but what circulates through my blood isn’t the mansion’s sour air, and that’s enough to drive me forward. The sash around my waist loosens, and my robe drapes off my shoulders. When it slips off, I don’t stop, too afraid to lose even seconds. I run until I’m jogging, and I jog until I’m speed walking. When I slow, panting, to a regular pace, the cuts on my soles announce themselves. The sun set soon after I left. My hands brush over my bare arms and tug at the hem of my nightgown. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone, but Calvin’s words won’t stop filtering through my mind.

“Fly until your wings fall off, until there's no more sky, but I will find you. I will always find you.”

I take it for what it is: an empty threat. Believing it helped me understand my situation, but I don’t need that any longer. Now I’m free. And in a forest this size, with the head start I have, he’ll never find me before I reach the end of it. Norman will take the brunt of Calvin’s anger, and as I walk, I pray quickly for his safety. But one thing has become painfully clear during my time in the mansion: only I can save myself. When I get home, I will never forget that.

I’m suddenly exhausted, but I walk until the soles of my feet burn and my legs give out. I find a shrub at the base of a large tree and curl into an unobtrusive ball behind it.

Above me, glowing white feathers shape themselves into an owl. Wide, yellow eyes disappear and reappear every few seconds. Tree branches stretch for me from their solid trunks, like they’re trying to snatch me. Dead leaves crunch and twigs snap under my body when I shift, the only noise aside from the curious owl’s hoots. I close my eyes.

Visions swirl around me as I float between sleep and wake: the blurry words of my favorite books, my reflection in Norman’s silver tray, Cal’s endlessly green eyes.

“Little Sparrow,” Calvin calls. “Don’t let me catch you. If you run, I will find you. I will always find you. Cataline. Cataline.”

I moan as my name rings in my ears. I’m shivering on the cold forest floor, and everything throbs, from my head to my throat to my legs and bare feet. I pretend Calvin’s warm fingers massage my numb arms instead of my own frozen ones.

I start and open my eyes when I realize someone is calling my name. It’s a man’s voice, but one I don’t recognize. Dread cuts through any remnants of sleep. If Calvin catches me, I know I’ll finally see what he’s capable of. I tell myself over and over that it’s impossible for him to find me, that the forest is too big. I’m terrified it might be him, but what shocks me is that I’m more terrified it won’t be.

Footsteps shuffle so close that I see glimpses of white tennis shoes through the shrubs. I close my eyes and silently recite a prayer for protection. As if that’s ever done me any good. My eyelids turn white under someone’s flashlight.

“Is she alive?”

“She fucking better be. Pretty sure dead won’t get us shit.”

“Touch her.”

A shoe nudges my ribs, and my eyes squeeze shut.

“She’s alive,” he says.

I blink my eyes open to a man squatting over me. “Am I dreaming?” I ask.

He laughs. “Are you Cataline?”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?”

He nods up at the other man and looks back at me. “Get up. You’re coming with us.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” He grabs my arm and pulls. “Let go,” I yell.

“Come on, chiquita. Are you wearing a nightgown?” He shakes his head at the other man. “Beginning to see what the fuss is about.”

“What fuss?” I ask. I get to my feet because I have no other choice.

“Never mind. Apúrate. Walk.” As he speaks, his hand cups my backside and pushes me forward. He strides past me, glancing back. “I said walk.”