We jog down the drive, gradually getting out of sight of the main buildings. The gravel crunches softly beneath our boots, and the cold night air bites my cheeks and nose. Against my hip a duffle bag is bouncing weightily, taking up the rhythm that is coursing through my body.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Up down. Up down. Up down. Crunch. Crunch.Crunch.
We have been going for a few minutes before I realise that the alarm hasn't been raised in our escape.
"Cass, not to seem ungrateful or anything. But why aren't we being chased?"
"Oh yeah. Jules and Arran set off a bomb in the main tunnel to block off the exit. Rubble everywhere. Not many people know about the secret tunnels, mainly because I made them. So they'll be there for a while!" Alto and her share a wry grin, their eyes sparkling mischievously in the moonlight.
Time passes quickly, and eventually, we reach the road where a Landrover rumbles quietly with it's light's off. As we approach, Jules climbs out of the driver door and opens the boot. He grins at me before taking my duffle and chucking it in with the rest. My eyes widen as I see that they're packing crates of ammo and glinting grenades.
I pull the drawstrings of my hoodie tight around my face and refuse to make eye contact with anyone, climbing into the back of the car. The door slams shut, leaving me in the smothering silence of my own thoughts. I refuse to look at anyone, so I lean my head against the window. My heart is still pounding, the feeling of it being so prominent unsettling. I lay my palm against it, willing it to slow. What does this all mean? The voice that haunts my nightmares, that Doctor, the red mist, those memories, belong to the man who ruined my life. I've met him now and I'll never forget his face. I'll pray each night that I'll put a bullet in it if I ever meet him again. My mother thinks I'm dead. He might as well have ripped my whole world up and dumped it in the ocean.
Someone nudges me bringing out of my thoughts. I turn my head and look into Alto's eyes. They're looking worried and, I wistfully think, they look like the kind of eyes that could mend a broken heart.
"Y'all right?" He whispers.
I look at him for a while before blinking slowly. I turn back to the window.
"Not really," I whisper.
He touches my arm gently. "It'll be alright. We're getting the hell out of here."
"Will it though? How do I know that you're not lying? How do I know if I can trust you?"
"Trust me, Anna, if I wanted you dead, you'd know about it."
"That's not what I mean," I say turning back to face him. "How can I trust you?"
He looks at me for a while before leaning forward, so close that I can see my eyes reflected in his. "You just can."
I let out a sigh and lean on the window again. Letting my eyelids drift closed, I let my self feel all my emotions and how drained I feel. I feel like I've been hit with a brick wall.
I'll try. I think. I promise I'll try. But the only person who I can really trust is myself.
My whole body hurts and I feel the gentle call of sleep pulling at me. My limbs are lead-like and heavy, I don't even care about Freedom digging into my back.
The irony. I'm ignoring freedom.
YOU ARE READING
The Burning Girl
Acción"Where the bloody hell has she gone." I hear someone scream. "Tom!" That must be Jim, I thought. Getting closer to the edge, I can hear a scuffle, someone thrown to the floor and another pinned against the hood of the car. The tension in the air co...
