Hunted

Naomi

Chapter 1

Frozen.

At first, it feels so familiar, how the chilliness wraps around your body, making you want to shrink into yourself. You feel a slight dislocation in your bones, a subtle shiver that goes through your entire being, a little strange. Feeling like you've been broken, but you don't want to leave.

If I could change my past, even then I wouldn't be able to live with myself. I wouldn't feel like an angel.
"I should've slit your body to shreds when I had the chance," he whispered against my ear, "Ripped your flesh till you died like a used-up whore."

The blaring horn shatters the stillness, yanking me back to the present. My eyes widen, pupils dilating as the blinding glare of headlights slices through the night. Instinct takes over, and I wrench the steering wheel to the right. The tires scream against the asphalt, and my car veers violently to the side, teetering on the edge of control.

The world spins in a chaotic blur and a jarring thud reverberates through the vehicle as it crashes onto the shoulder, the engine sputtering to a reluctant halt. My breath comes in ragged gasps, heart pounding an erratically against my ribs.

A raw, visceral fear grips my body, constricting me of air. My hands tremble violently as I urgently claw at the car's console, desperately searching for my inhaler. My breath comes in ragged gasps, each exhale sounding like a desperate wheeze as my chest grows tighter with each panicked inhalation.

Finally, my fingers clutch around the inhaler case, and I fumble with the device, my breaths becoming quick, shallow pants as I bring the inhaler to my lips, swallowing in each breath.

For a moment, silence reigns, I sit there, hands clenched around the inhaler, my knuckles white with the grip. The headlights of the passing car recede into the distance, leaving me alone with the darkness that seems to pulse with a life of its own.

My phone blares, its shrill ring merging with the relentless drumming of rain against the windows. I exhale slowly, the breath hitching in my throat as I slide my phone from my pocket. The screen glows with an eerie light.

I blink, focusing on the message that scrawls across the screen.

UNKNOWN: I'm not satisfied enough.

Cold dread seeps into my bones making my heart thudding in a frantic rhythm. The rain's relentless drumming feels like a countdown, each drop amplifying the tightness that grips my chest. My reflection in the darkened window is gaunt, hollow-eyed – a ghost of myself.

I slam my phone face down, as if hiding it will change the reality that's creeping in. My hands are trembling, sweat beading down my neck. I'm stuck—trapped in the middle of nowhere, swallowed by the blackened void that stretches out in all directions. The world outside my car is dead. I can't even see my own breath fogging up the glass.

The inhaler slips out of my hand, hitting the clip box with a dull thud. I grip the steering wheel instead, so hard it feels like my bones will snap. My mind is racing, thoughts crashing into each other like the car I wrecked. I can't even focus. I can't think straight. I can't do this anymore. I don't want to. Fear gnaws at me, tearing away every last thread of control I thought I had. I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat stays, burning, making it impossible to breathe. If I don't get there within the next hour, I'll be holding my Mum's head on my lap.

The air feels thick, suffocating, like something heavy is pressing against my chest. My phone buzzes, the sound sharp and violent in the quiet room. I don't want to pick it up, but my hand moves on its own, shaking as I unlock the screen.

UNKNOWN: They all wanted it. They all loved it.

UNKNOWN: I had to force them.

UNKNOWN: I don't know why they always make a fuss about it. They deserve it.

UNKNOWN: Don't they know it already?

I feel a knot tightening in my stomach, my pulse pounding in my ears. I can't think. Can't breathe. My fingers hover over the screen, unsteady, typing before I even know what I'm saying.

ME: Please please leave her alone.

ME: I'll do anything.

The message sends, and I stare at the screen, hoping for something, anything—but nothing comes. The seconds stretch, warping into minutes. Each one feels longer, twisting tighter around me until my phone vibrates again.

A video.

I almost drop the phone, my hands slick with sweat. I know I shouldn't open it. But I have to. I need to know.

I tap play, and the screen fills with her. She's crying, broken sobs choking out of her, her face wet with tears, her clothes shredded and hanging from her body. Her lips move, but no sound comes through. Just her eyes, wide and empty, staring at something I can't see.

And then, another message. My heart stutters as I read it.

UNKNOWN: I can't wait to do this to you.

UNKNOWN: I already can't stop touching my dick while thinking of you.

I collapse. The phone slips from my hand, landing in my lap as tears flood my eyes, turning my vision into a distorted haze.

I force myself out of the car, grabbing the phone with trembling fingers, my face damp with tears. I sprint into the night, my direction a blur of panic. The biting winter air stings my cheeks, and the jagged grass tears at my legs with every frantic stride.
According to Google Maps, Vallory Bay isn't far, but the thought only deepens my terror. My heart pounds furiously, my breath coming in ragged gasps as fear claws at me from all sides.

My phone buzzes violently in my hand. I yank it from my pocket, eyes wide with dread.

UNKNOWN: I'm not the least bit entertained. Should I cut her tongue out? She's being very fussy.

I shake my head violently, shoving my phone back into my pocket. My body trembles uncontrollably, tears streaming down my face as I run. I want to scream, but no sound comes out.

I slow to a staggered stop as I approach the iron archway. "Vallory Bay," it reads, etched in a semi-circle at the top.

A wave of nausea hits me. I want to vomit, to take a knife and shred myself to pieces. I am standing at ground zero, and the weight of it all is crushing.