Tortured Souls

She ran for the front door and let herself out. The night air pricked her skin, cooling her face where tears streamed down. She flew down the crumbling porch and ran into the forest behind the house.

Kylee knew the path with her eyes closed, which was good because the moon was just a sliver, too small to shine any light through the network of tree branches sheltering the woods. Her bare feet ran over the smoothed dirt, littered with pine needles and leaves.

There it was. A large oak tree had fallen down years ago, and sometime after that the forest animals had hollowed it out. Kylee knelt down and crept into the empty space. She pressed her back against it and wrapped her arms around her knees. In the safe solitude of her tree, she allowed herself to bawl.

“I can’t take it anymore,” she sobbed. “I’m getting out of here.” She had to flee. She couldn’t wait any longer. She’d run away.

But no. She couldn’t leave her mom alone with Bill.

How could she deal with this, then? She dropped one hand to her side and dug her fingers into the dirt behind her. No, she told herself. I’m not doing that anymore. But her fingers continued creeping around in the dirt as if they had developed their own consciousness.

The sharp edge of a serrated knife tickled her skin, and she let out a cry of relief. Her willpower crumpled. A giddiness warmed her chest at the expectation of the pain the knife would bring her. And how the pain would take her away.

She gave into her desires and held the sharp blade against her skin. This was how she would deal.

“Hello?”

Kylee froze mid-sniffle when she heard the male voice calling through the trees. Someone had heard her.

If Kylee kept still, maybe whoever it was wouldn’t be able to find her.

The leaves in front of her hollowed-out log crunched, and a pair of black shoes with electric blue trim, visible even in the darkness, appeared.

“Hello?” he said again.

Kylee grimaced. There was no escaping it. She’d been found.

The legs bent into a crouch, and then Price’s face stared at her. A flicker passed through his eyes before he nodded. “I knew it was you.”

For some reason his comment annoyed her. Her fingers released the knife, and she shoved it back into the dirt. Kylee pushed herself out of the tree trunk.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You hear crying and assume it’s your snivelly, white-trash neighbor? Cause that’s what people like me do, right?”

She stood to her full height, which was at least a head shorter than he was, and glared up at him.

He stared back at her, his brown eyes flicking back and forth over her face as he studied her. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

Kylee folded her arms across her chest with a huff, though her annoyance was fading with the triumphant realization that he was talking to her.

“What did you mean, then?”

He blinked and dropped his gaze. “Nothing. It’s hard to explain.”

“Oh. That clears things up.”

A brief smile graced his lips. “I thought you wanted to be friends. Now all you’re doing is griping at me.”

Kylee’s face burned. She was glad it was dark, or he would notice the red creeping up her cheeks.

“I did. But you’ve been a jerk since you moved in, so I pretty much gave up. I don’t need any more jerks in my life.”

He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and shuffled his feet. “Why are you out here?”

“I needed some air.”

“Was it a bit stuffy where you were?”

“Stuffy? No, stuffy isn’t the word I’d use for it. More like, suffocating.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “I can see that. Kind of makes sense.”

She shook her head. “I was fighting with my stepdad. That’s all.”

He chewed on his lower lip. “He still fights with you?”

“What do you mean, still?” She pressed her hands to her face, hoping the cold in her fingers would help soothe her hot skin. “Yeah. So you’ve noticed? Do you hear him?”

“Sometimes I do.” He lowered his head, kicking at the foliage again.

“Right. Okay. Nice talking to you.” Bow out and exit gracefully. Kylee slipped around him.

“Wait,” Price said, calling after her. His footsteps thumped over the dirt as he jogged up to her. “Hey, I’m sorry. I know I’ve been . . . well, weird.”

“Rude,” Kylee corrected, hugging her torso with her arms. “What’s your problem, anyway?” The days of aggravation since he’d moved in had mounted up into a big ball of angst. “Is it just because I’m poor?”