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Taraji's POV
Walking out of Stephanie's house, all I saw around me for miles and miles was dense forestry. Even if she hadn't destroyed my phone and I still had it, I wouldn't be able to get a signal outside of the house. I was just going to have to navigate through the forest until I saw a sign of civilization. If I make it out of these woods tonight, I have to call my son. I hope that God can forgive me for what I had to do. I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself. That woman died in one of the worst possible ways that anybody can die, and it was all at my hands. I knew that she really wouldn't have killed me, but it wasn't myself that I was thinking about. When she threatened to hurt Marcell, and to do it in front of me no less, I knew that I had to act fast. I really didn't want to do that to her. But it wasn't just her that I did it to. I did it to anybody that ever wronged me. I spoke their names as I was spilling her blood. I'll probably never know peace again, so why should they?
It was starting to get dark. My knees were growing weak and my entire body felt numb. My clothes were soaked in Stephanie's blood, weighing me down with every trudging step I took through the thick greenery. Maybe I'll get lucky and run across a wild wolf or a grizzly bear. At least then my death won't be a suicide, but it also won't be at the hands of another human being. After walking around for what felt like hours, I stopped to slump up against a tree. I knew that I needed to keep moving if I wanted to beat nightfall, but my body just couldn't muster the strength. I've been beaten up and broken down. I've been chained to a bed for hours. I've endured pure hell from the devil herself. My body needs a break. I could drop dead right here on this bed of leaves and nobody would know. It would be a peaceful way to go. I wouldn't have to fight anymore. I wouldn't have to cry anymore. I wouldn't have to worry about some I trusted ever hurting me again. I wouldn't have to worry about destroying Fantasia's family. I could leave the world and all its wickedness behind to be with my dad.
Just as I was allowing my eyes to close and my body to sink further and further down to the ground, I saw what seemed to be lights off in the distance, and I heard an engine grumbling. Feeing a newfound surge of hope, I took off running towards the noise, but my run was more of a fast-paced limp. I ran and ran and ran until I found myself coming out of the woods and happening upon a country backroad. A truck was coming towards me. I stood in the middle of the road, waving my hands around in the air for the truck to stop. The driver honked at me, sticking his head out of the window to curse at me. They swerved around me, but they ended up stopping a few feet away from me. The side of their truck read "Buddy's Towing" in faded white print. The man got out of his beat up, rusty truck, slowly approaching me. He wore a red and white flannel tucked into jeans with cowboy boots on his feet. His greying handlebar mustache added to his deep south vibe. I couldn't imagine how scary I must have looked to him- a black woman in a shredded shirt, covered in blood from head to toe and walking barefoot on the road. The man, who assumed his name was Buddy, walked up to me as one would approach a wounded wild animal.
