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Maybe my savior won’t turn out to be some killer creep.

Maybe he really will just be a normal guy who felt like playing the hero.

A scream sounds, breaking through my haze. I’m thrust back into reality and I squeeze my eyes shut harder. Soon the pressure on my back is gone and I realize I need to move. This might be my only chance to escape.

I need to move.

I hear fighting, but I stay perfectly still. I can’t breathe. Everything is too tight: the world is too close together.

I need

to move.

I blink open and my head swims with pain.

I need to move.

I reach forward and claw at the ground, pulling myself forward. I have to escape. I have to move. I have to get away from here while I still can.

Everything I’ve ever hoped for is gone. My life has faded away and become a shell of nothingness, but I won’t let this break me. I can’t.

My mind clears enough to remind me that I have to keep going. I’ll get to the trees and crawl to a hiding place. Surely I can find a cave or a hole or a bush to hide under. There must be something. I’ve made it this far. I don’t want to let it be for nothing.

I won’t let this all be for nothing.

Grandmother might be dead, but that doesn’t give me a free pass to just give up. Just because I’ve lost the light of my life doesn’t mean I will stop fighting for my future.

I won’t let her death be for nothing.

Dirt and mud sticks beneath my nails as I slowly pull my way forward. I’m on my belly on the dirt, like a snake, and I slowly slither toward the trees.

The sounds of battle fade away and soon it’s just me and the forest.

I don’t stop to think about what that means until I hear a voice.

“Red.”

I keep pulling. I don’t know how this person knows my name or what he wants, but I can’t let him get me. I have to fight. I have to keep going.

I might be bleeding, dying, left for dead, but I won’t give up.

“Red.”

The voice is firmer this time, and closer.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Go away,” I say to the voice. Go away, leave me alone, leave me here to die on my own. I reach forward, my fingers clawing at the dirt, trying to pull myself.

Escape is close. I can almost touch it. I can taste it.

So close.

“Red,” the voice sounds urgent now, pained. “Red, look at me. Are you all right?”

“No,” I shake my head. My eyes are closed. I won’t open them. Not for this stranger. Not for anyone.

“Red. Open your eyes.”