The stiff half-frozen grass cuts into my bare feet like ten thousand knives. Too much has unraveled to turn back now. I keep running, stifling more coughs as my lungs work overtime on the cold night air.

Flashes of light illuminate the darkness; a series of bangs hurls me into a nose-dive at the ground. My head erupts in a terrible buzzing sensation.  

Where is Jed?  

The gunshots stop just as abruptly as they began.  

I can’t see anything in the black. My left cheek is pressing hard against what must be a rock, my skirt twisted too high around my goosebump-filled legs. Everything in me wants to get up and keep running, but instead I lie still, holding my breath as I listen for signs of movement. Between the beating in my chest and the ringing in my ears, I hear nothing outside of myself.

I think the shots came from about fifty feet south. I think he’s coming towards me as quickly as I’m going for him.  

Slowly, I rise to a crawling position and make my way closer.  

A wail of sirens can barely be heard coming from town. My heart beats faster.  

“Get in the car now!” Jed yells from over by the office. The gun’s going off again, a shower of bullets flying in the direction of Jed’s frantic voice. I want to pray that none of them find their target, but I can’t spare the time.  

I’m back on my feet, running and running. My cheeks are wet with tears. He thinks we’re both over there. He thinks we’re both about to get in Ronnie Kay’s old Model T and run directly into the parade of lawful chaos barreling towards us. I bite my lip to keep from laughing too loudly and giving myself away. No matter. In an instant, my joy dissolves to anger. It always does. I keep biting my lip to keep from screaming. 

The sirens are louder. They’ll be here in about three minutes. I have to move.  

The firing stops. He’s reloading. I can see his silhouette now. I’m close enough to get a good shot in of my own. He’s fumbling around in the dark, trying to find more bullets in the pockets of his coveralls. I raise my gun, arms stretched out in front of me. All I have to do is pull the trigger and he’s gone. 

But I can’t.  

My blood boils. The muscles in my arms cramp up. Sweat dampens my skin.  

No, I can’t end him like this.  

Before I can think twice, I’m running again. He’s right there. Right here. I hear him choke out a gasp as the barrel of my Colt shoves against the paper-thin skin of his forehead. Every nerve in my body burns.

“Get to the woods! Get out of here!” Jed screams, his voice closer now. The police must be turning onto the property. 

I pull the trigger and jolt awake.

My dreams never get past that. My mind freezes time in that moment. That moment before blood splattered all over my face, my hands, my dress. Before the smell of death clung to my hair for an entire week. Before the nightmares came every night.  

I pull the handcuffs lower down my wrist. They always get pushed up in my sleep somehow, pressing into my skin until it swells.  

No matter. I’ll be free of this soon. 

The handcuffs. The nightmares. The anger.  

In just nine days, I’ll be done.