Amber

Chapter 4

Hailey

November 3, 2015

I scream when he grabs me. A piercing, chaotic scream—all back-of-the-throat powered and legs kicking freely, landing blows that might have been harmful if I had kept my shoes on.

I owed him that—a good scream. One good, solid, here-I-am—everyone come find me—scream that I didn't have a chance to let out before going in the trunk. Now he can deal with it. My voice screeches in his ear as he tries to secure me against his shoulder and carry me away. But I'm not going easy, so he throws me to the ground instead. I land on a pile of leaves, which is nice except for all of the branches mixed in with them. My shoulder takes the worst of it. But my head whips to the side, and suddenly the burning is back.

I try to scramble to my feet to run, but he's over me, bat in hand as I hold up my arms waving them wildly to get him to stop. He blocks the sun again, and I see his face now for the first time up close. Colorless eyes, pockets of fat bunched up against his nose, and strands of dark hair from his ears back. The worst part is the way he looks at me. Why is he so angry? Why is he looking at me as if this is all my fault? As if I'm the one who kidnapped him?

His mouth is moving, but not in any normal way. It's not talking. It's more like a continuous trembling of his entire face.

He has the bat raised now, and I keep my arms up while turning my face away.

Close your eyes, Hailey. Shut them tight enough to disappear.

My leg explodes. That's what it feels like. Below my left knee is an eruption of pain as the bat connects, and everything goes from color to white for a moment. I think my ears are ringing again but then realize it's just me screaming, holding my leg with one hand and using the other to try to stop him from hitting me again. He holds the bat against my other leg but doesn't swing. He glances down as if what happens next is up to me.

He wants you to cooperate. He'll only hit you again if you struggle. But you have to struggle. You can't let him take you like this.

I reach through the leaves, finding one of the thicker branches and roll over in one motion, swiping at his leg with the branch, watching it harmlessly snap in half against him. He glares at me—all trembling mouth and rage.

My shoulder becomes a series of explosions. I don't know how many times he hits me because I only feel the first one. That one was for me. The rest are for him.

I stop screaming and allow the tears to come in waves. My head finds a soft patch of the ground that's leaves and grass, and I place it there to rest, allowing my mind to drift away, hallucinate, or anything else it would rather do than focus on what's actually happening.

My eyes trail along the ground, finding nothing but a sea of leaves, all of them wrinkled and broken, but still full of color. I remember when we would gather up as many as we could, all of the leaves in our yard, and make piles to bury ourselves into. Then we would take turns hiding, and Hannah would always win. She was always good at hiding. Maybe because she wanted so badly to disappear.

When I couldn't find her, she would wait until I got close and then reach out to pull me into the leaves with her.

Is that what she's doing? Is that why she's here? To pull you in with her?

I almost want to go. Anything to escape this. My body is fire and lightning. I don't notice at first that I'm moving at all until the ground starts to fall away from me, and then I know he's dragging me up by my hair, lifting me against his right shoulder, and shuffling forward using the bat like a cane.

My right arm is useless.

So I swing hard with my left.

My fist meets his back repeatedly, but I know I don't have enough energy to hurt him. He doesn't even throw me down this time. He just keeps shuffling, and I watch the car shrink in the distance along with the trees and the sun.