Atlas Grove, once a dancer with dreams of dancing under the stars, now lives petrified in the shadows of abuse. To escape her living nightmare she must keep her head down and work hard, being her senior year this is her last chance to get out. Altho...
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I fly back down the dirt track in direction of the barn, that one text on my mind. The one that can make or break everything. I was sat at the dinner ten minutes down the road, I couldn't go home, not yet. I had to see the last few hours of her birthday out and make sure she gets back to Carries safely. The coffee was watery and tepid but it sat on the main road with only a few cars that pass so I could definitely see Carrie's car if it passed. I can see the barn in the clearing, lights illuminating the surrounding grass and music thumps from inside. I park my car next to B's and hop out entering through the ajar barn doors. I do a quick scan for Atlas but come up at a loss, she's probably dancing in the throng of people or in the bathroom. I see B by the photo booth and hightail over to him. His brows pinch together when he sees me approach, Rutherford necking a bottle of beer next to him.
"I thought you left," B says,
"Have you seen Atlas?" I hurry out, my muscles strung too tight.
"No not in a while."
"I last saw her on the dance floor with Gem, maybe fifteen minutes ago." Rutherford muses, and he calls over Emily and Carrie who dance with Gem between them. "Have you seen Atlas?"
"I think she stepped out to take a phone call, why?" A phone call? Atlas hates phone calls, she wouldn't have taken it unless it was important. A type of dread fills me, something doesn't feel right.
"Okay, out the side?" I point to the closed back door of the barn. Carrie nods.
"Is everything okay B?" Brady's hand clamps on my shoulder. I nod tensely and turn to head towards the door. As if Brady can sense the weird feeling he follows and I make no protest. We step back out into the humid night air and halfway between the barn and the cliff edge a figure squats by someone on the floor, someone on the floor dressed in a purple slip. A purple slip quickly staining a dark colour by the minute.
My bones shake and my heart drops. Red is all I see, it's like a mist in front of me.
"HEY. GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER." I charge towards the two figures. The man turns and smirks before sprinting into the treeline at the edge of the cliff. I don't even think about chasing after him, I run straight for the small body shaking visibly on the ground. As I grow closer I see the puddle she's lying in, red and thick. It seeps from the side of her stomach, and her battered and bruised hands try and hold onto the slice of flesh allowing the liquid to pour out. "Atlas, ATLAS." I drop to the side of her body, Brady's knees thumping into the dirt on the other side. He just stares, eyes watering. "Give me your shirt." He stares at her bloodied and bruised face, eyes so swollen her pupils are barely visible as they stare aimlessly at the sky. "Brady give me your shirt." He rips off the chequered shirt he has on over his T-shirt and my hands tremble as I take it and push it onto the wound, she doesn't even wince. Wet coats my cheeks, my sweet girl is lying in a pool of her own blood, battered and bruised. Her blonde locks matted with blood and mud.
