beauty, both foreboding and comforting. Foreboding because of the secrets it held, but otherwise green and lush, although terribly cold. It would warm up, she knew. She hung on to that promise.
Certain that she’d been left there alone, for whatever reason she couldn’t fathom, Tasha allowed her eyes to flop shut again. She knew she should try to stand, to get out of there, but fatigue had wrapped its suffocating arms around her and she drifted into them. Her mind played a voice. She couldn’t make it out, though it sounded familiar. The words ... what were the words?
You thought you could trust me ...
You didn’t mean what you said, did you?
You know you drive me crazy, don’t you?
Wait ... Marc had left her something. What was it? What! She tried to stay awake, stretching her brows upward, but her eyes would not open. Could not open. Oh, the pain in her head. It pounded with a ferocity, sucking away at her memory, her senses. Why would he say those things to her? She thought she could trust him, but now ... oh her head ...
She felt herself fading, struggling with those last moments of consciousness. A garbled voice coaxed her to sleep, its voice harsh and unforgiving. I thought I could trust you, but all you’ve done is gotten in my way ...
~~~
She awoke for the second time, tired and dehydrated, but she rallied. The netting tied around her feet was no match for the sharp, rugged rock not far from where she’d laid her head. The nylon around her hands was another story. She couldn’t find a way to saw the tightly wrapped nylon off without severely cutting up her aching hands. They had already turned blue from lack of blood flow, and several scrapes had bled and clotted.
But her legs were free, and she could walk. When adrenaline kicked in, she also discovered that she could jog. Unfamiliar with this area of the woods, she followed the sun. When she’d awakened earlier for the second time, that ball of gold had been overhead, but since then, it had moved westward. She followed it, hopeful to either find the road toward home—or the ocean.
Minutes stretched into the afternoon, but she cautiously walked on, that menacing voice now faded to a whisper. No matter how hard she strained, grabbing onto the identity of that voice was like trying to pull a speck of shell out of a gooey raw egg. The words, though, she could not get out of her head. They continued to swirl in and out of her consciousness like a pinwheel. How had she allowed this to happen?
An aching hole in her gut caused her to slow more than once, including a stop to vomit. With each wretch, she felt grief over her predicament ebbing away only to be replaced with a loathing she had never felt. Not even when Roger had left her before the wedding.
Roger. He had been here only yesterday. Or was it the day before? She swallowed bile, too weak to fully grasp the bombardment of panic. Roger had brought her wine ... or wait, maybe it was Marc. She stopped and massaged her right temple, listening to the whoosh of her own breath in her ears.
She reached the roadway with myriad questions, an empty stomach, and a silent whoop of relief. Tentatively, she stepped onto the road, stealing glances over her shoulder. Several silent minutes passed before she heard tires on pavement. Her throat closed and she hurled herself behind a tree, watching. Her heart thrummed in her chest. A truck approached, heading in the direction she needed to go, and it was green. A vibrant, obnoxious green.
She stumbled out to the roadway and waved her tied hands into the air.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
At her cabin, Tasha let herself out of Katie’s father’s truck and stumbled into Lorena’s waiting arms. Marylu stood right behind her with Wolfy in her arms.
Lorena’s tears were hot and fat. “Oh, Tasha, oh! Everybody’s out looking for you! Marc, his crew ... everybody.”
Katie came around the infamous green
Certain that she’d been left there alone, for whatever reason she couldn’t fathom, Tasha allowed her eyes to flop shut again. She knew she should try to stand, to get out of there, but fatigue had wrapped its suffocating arms around her and she drifted into them. Her mind played a voice. She couldn’t make it out, though it sounded familiar. The words ... what were the words?
You thought you could trust me ...
You didn’t mean what you said, did you?
You know you drive me crazy, don’t you?
Wait ... Marc had left her something. What was it? What! She tried to stay awake, stretching her brows upward, but her eyes would not open. Could not open. Oh, the pain in her head. It pounded with a ferocity, sucking away at her memory, her senses. Why would he say those things to her? She thought she could trust him, but now ... oh her head ...
She felt herself fading, struggling with those last moments of consciousness. A garbled voice coaxed her to sleep, its voice harsh and unforgiving. I thought I could trust you, but all you’ve done is gotten in my way ...
~~~
She awoke for the second time, tired and dehydrated, but she rallied. The netting tied around her feet was no match for the sharp, rugged rock not far from where she’d laid her head. The nylon around her hands was another story. She couldn’t find a way to saw the tightly wrapped nylon off without severely cutting up her aching hands. They had already turned blue from lack of blood flow, and several scrapes had bled and clotted.
But her legs were free, and she could walk. When adrenaline kicked in, she also discovered that she could jog. Unfamiliar with this area of the woods, she followed the sun. When she’d awakened earlier for the second time, that ball of gold had been overhead, but since then, it had moved westward. She followed it, hopeful to either find the road toward home—or the ocean.
Minutes stretched into the afternoon, but she cautiously walked on, that menacing voice now faded to a whisper. No matter how hard she strained, grabbing onto the identity of that voice was like trying to pull a speck of shell out of a gooey raw egg. The words, though, she could not get out of her head. They continued to swirl in and out of her consciousness like a pinwheel. How had she allowed this to happen?
An aching hole in her gut caused her to slow more than once, including a stop to vomit. With each wretch, she felt grief over her predicament ebbing away only to be replaced with a loathing she had never felt. Not even when Roger had left her before the wedding.
Roger. He had been here only yesterday. Or was it the day before? She swallowed bile, too weak to fully grasp the bombardment of panic. Roger had brought her wine ... or wait, maybe it was Marc. She stopped and massaged her right temple, listening to the whoosh of her own breath in her ears.
She reached the roadway with myriad questions, an empty stomach, and a silent whoop of relief. Tentatively, she stepped onto the road, stealing glances over her shoulder. Several silent minutes passed before she heard tires on pavement. Her throat closed and she hurled herself behind a tree, watching. Her heart thrummed in her chest. A truck approached, heading in the direction she needed to go, and it was green. A vibrant, obnoxious green.
She stumbled out to the roadway and waved her tied hands into the air.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
At her cabin, Tasha let herself out of Katie’s father’s truck and stumbled into Lorena’s waiting arms. Marylu stood right behind her with Wolfy in her arms.
Lorena’s tears were hot and fat. “Oh, Tasha, oh! Everybody’s out looking for you! Marc, his crew ... everybody.”
Katie came around the infamous green
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