Hiding out in an abandoned shack from their abusive pasts, Allison and Ethan Bryson entertain themselves by imaging all sorts of curious characters near the frozen lake outside their hut.
But after Allison witnesses a man murder a young woman and di...
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This chapter is dedicated to shellyxleonn for winning my Reader Appreciation challenge! Thank you for being such an awesome and avid reader. You've read and commented on each of my stories, and for a writer like me who finds great pleasure and purpose in sharing her creations, it's highly appreciated! Thank you!
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I must've seemed like a crazed axe murderer looking down at the beaten and bloodied Judith with a hatchet in hand.
"What happened?" She looked back, stunned and frightened. "Don't hurt me."
"I'm not gonna hurt you, Judith."
"Please," she begged, eyeing the rusted steel in my fist.
She seemed confused. But there was no mistaken she was frighten from hearing Owen's recount of tragedies I wished to forget. Why did Ethan ever believe he could trust Owen with such details?
Owen sat forward, hands tied and anchored to the leg of the bed behind his back. "The things they've done with that axe will amaze and sicken you. I barely hit the surface."
I pointed the hatchet to Owen in an attempt to muster up some courage. "Shut up."
"Yes, ma'am." Owen peered over his shoulder at me, the thick dried blood on his face made him look pitiful and vulnerable. "I'll do anything you say."
Ignoring him, I looked to Judith. "We're not gonna hurt you. Promise."
"I want to leave." She pressed her fingers to her swollen and bruised temple and eye socket and pulled them back to see blood. She gasped. "Can I leave, please? I just wanna go home."
Ethan nodded. "Sure, you can go home. Of course. But first, we just gotta figure a way out of this." He glanced to Owen, Judith, before turning to me. There was no mistaking the worry in his eyes. "Allison, we need to talk." He went to the door and undid the makeshift lock.
"Just wait here." I put a hand up to Judith and followed Owen outside the door. The wind had picked up considerably, howling through the dense trees like a large phantom creature. With each gust, the door swung on its hinges, creaking as it swayed back and forth, open and close.
