Page 89 of She Walks with Broken Things

I jerked my gaze toward the sound.

Tall, dark whispering pines gave me nothing. But the hair on the nape of my neck rose.

Snap.

I held my breath. Then the scent hit me. Was that cloves?

You won’t run now, will you? Good girls… stay still.

The crows erupted overhead in violent screams. I unleashed a cry and stumbled backwards. My boot caught on the edge of a hollow. My leg buckled, sending me crashing to the ground.

Good girls… stay still.

“NO!” I clawed backward through wet earth.

Alaric!

ALARIC!

I shoved myself back onto shaking legs. Stumbled. Pushed. Drove my bad leg forward until I was upright. The house appeared between the trees like salvation. I ran, thrashing my arms as I battled low branches and stumbled into the clearing.

Light flashed against windows through the trees.

Home.

Stones crunched beneath my boots as I raced across the driveway and up the stairs. I twisted the handle too hard and yanked it open. I was inside before I knew. Shoving the door closed. Fumbling for the locks. Some part of me still expected footsteps hunting me. I stared at the forest, searching for movement.

But nothing moved.

Nothing followed.

Tears pricked the edges of my eyes, blurring the sight.

I pressed my forehead to the glass, staring into deep green gloom. Gradually… my pulse slowed, and the deep gnawing ache returned to my thigh. Violent tremors ripped through my thigh. My knee buckled. I pressed myself against the door and listened hard before finally stepping away.

Cold plunged through me.

My teeth gnashed so hard the sounds filled my head.

I stumbled for my room. Turned the handle and was inside. Pinks and greys surrounded me. I cut my gaze to my window seat and the turned over copy of The Phantom. My room. My things. My home. I took a slow step, my leg screaming beneath the weight. Then another, and another until the shudders tore free from me.

I really had nothing here.

A few of my own things.

Brushes.

Shoes.

I went to the walk-in-closet and switched on the light. My clothes hung neatly, especially the new ones Mrs. Reid brought. The large white box waited, tucked away in the shelving. I moved toward it. Reached out. Pushed the top free.

Tighter.

My fingers trembled.

Don’t give them space.