Hiding out in an abandoned shack from their abusive pasts, Allison and Ethan Bryson entertain themselves by imaging all sorts of curious characters near the frozen lake outside their hut.
But after Allison witnesses a man murder a young woman and di...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Hours in the crushing cold was nothing compared to pushing through the darkness toward the unknown. As I trek through the silhouettes of towering trees, what I was leaving behind blazed in the back of my mind. No matter how I tried I couldn't stop the tears from flowing for dear Ethan.
I fought back images of the torturous flames licking at his body and finally engulfing him in their heat, slowly turning him into a pile of smoldering embers along with the rotting wood of the shack. For as long as I could remember, Ethan has been my rock, my strength, my sanity.
And now he was gone.
His security was nothing but a memory that would forever be linked with the stench of burning wood in the air.
"Ethan," I sobbed as I wandered through the snow, dropping the hatchet somewhere along the way. "Oh, Ethan."
I adjusted the torn fabric I had tied around my hand, allowing the pain from my absent fingers and the ache in my heart to generate tears until I could no longer produce them.
My whining quickly turned into incoherent mumbling as the icy chill of the wind caused shudders to tear through me. Hours of walking was beginning to take its toll on my legs. And the lack of water, warmth, and rest made me a mumbling fool. The only word that escaped my lips had a way of keeping me going. "Ethan."
The howling of the wind through the trees grew louder ahead. And it wasn't until the double lights blinded me that I realized the wind wasn't responsible for the sound, but a vehicle. It slowly curved down the wide street, flooding me in its headlights.
I leaned against a nearby tree, taking the rest my body craved. The sight of the old, beat up truck filled me with a sense of awe as I hadn't seen one in years. A bit of familiarity hit me as I realized the truck would provide the warmth and rest I needed, and a sense of relief replaced every other emotion when the truck stopped in front of me.
"Hey, miss?" the male driver called from the open passenger side window. "You okay? You need help?"
The man was nothing more than a disembodied voice in shadow. Using my vivid imagination, I envisioned him being short, stocky and foreign judging by the accent.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the dryness made my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth. So, I nodded instead, knowing the lights from the truck lit up the area well enough for him to see me.
The door to the driver's side opened and he moved around the front of the car toward me. He was nothing like my imagination intended. Tall, dark, and wearing jeans, a large jacket and a baseball cap, he approached me and pointed to my hand and the bloody fabric I held against my chest. "Were you hurt?" My hand ached and throbbed. I nodded and he took a step forward and reached toward me with one hand. "Here. Let me get you to a hospital?"
I moved forward, staring at his palm before studying his face. His face matched mine as his mocha tinted complexion held very little age spots. His handsome and friendly smile seemed to force its way through his worried gaze as I moved closer.
