Evelyn’s Escape

I've learned to count in silence.

One breath. Two. Three.

A pause between each moment. A beat of stillness between my pounding heart.

That's how I survive this place.

There are no windows, no clocks. Just stone walls, a door that never stays open long, and the endless throb of nothingness pressing in from every direction. It smells like damp air and sterility—like a hospital with no healing.

Sometimes I talk to myself just to remember what a voice sounds like.

The woman comes every day. At least, I think it's every day. I've lost track of time. She's always quiet—never meeting my eyes for too long, never saying a word.

Except once.

It was after I'd begged her to tell me if my father was alive. My voice cracked, my hands trembled as I grabbed her wrist. "Please," I had whispered. "Is my dad okay?"

She paused—just for a heartbeat—then said in a low, trembling voice, "He's fine."

She never spoke again. Until now.

---

The door creaks open.

It's her.

She walks in with a tray—some bread, soup, and water. I sit up slowly, unsure whether to hope or brace. But there's something different in her posture today. She doesn't turn to leave right away. Instead, she places the tray down and hesitates.

Then she kneels.

"I have a daughter," she says softly.

The words hit me like thunder in a quiet field.

"She's around your age. Eighteen." Her voice is fragile, hesitant. "She has this habit of chewing her hoodie strings when she's nervous. You hum sometimes. I noticed it… it reminded me of her."

I blink, not sure if I'm dreaming. "Why are you telling me this?"

Her gaze drops. "Because I don't think what they're planning is right."

I lean forward. My voice is barely a whisper. "What are they planning?"

She hesitates. "I don't know the full story. They don't trust me that much. But… whatever it is, it scares me. They're keeping you hidden. That alone tells me enough."

She looks up then—really looks at me. Her eyes are glassy with regret. "I can't be part of it anymore."

I don't speak. I'm afraid if I do, I'll start crying and never stop.

"I put a heavy dose of sleeping pills in their dinner," she says. "All four of them. They'll be unconscious soon. When it gets quiet… run. I'll leave the door open."

I feel the burn of tears behind my eyes. "Why are you helping me?"

She presses her lips into a thin line. "Because if it were my daughter in a place like this, I'd pray someone would help her too."

---

Minutes pass like hours.

I sit frozen on the edge of the bed, straining to hear something—anything. One guard mumbled earlier. I heard someone laugh, and then… silence.

I slip barefoot to the door. True to her word, it's ajar.

I push it open, careful not to make a sound.

The hallway is dim. Farther down, I see two men slumped at the table, heads on their arms. One's already slid to the floor. Another has his feet kicked out awkwardly beneath a bench.

They're out cold.

I pass by, heart pounding, hardly breathing. My body feels like a balloon stretched too tight—one more second and I'll pop.

No one moves.

I slip through the side exit and stumble out into the night air.

---

The forest is colder than I expected.

The ground is sharp with fallen branches and thorns that slice at my feet. But I run anyway. I don't know where I'm going—only that it has to be far, far away from here.

Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, makes me flinch. The trees look like shadows with claws, and the night swallows everything that isn't right in front of me.

I run until my lungs are raw and my legs scream. Then I trip.

Face first into the dirt. My ankle twists painfully. I crawl into a patch of ferns and try to breathe through the pain.

And that's when I hear it—footsteps.

Steady. Coming closer.

My heart threatens to tear itself out of my chest. I crouch lower, holding my breath.

A figure emerges from the trees. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair ruffled by the wind. He moves confidently, like someone who belongs in a place like this.

His eyes meet mine.

I freeze.

He slows. "Are you okay?"

His voice is smooth. Calm. It reminds me of Josh for a second—and my chest aches with the thought.

"I—" I swallow hard. "I've been kidnapped. I just escaped. Please… I don't know where I am. I need to get out of here."

His expression shifts. Concern, maybe. "You're lucky I found you," he says. "This part of the woods isn't safe."

"You believe me?" I ask.

"Yes." He offers a hand. "I'm Theron. A hunter. I know these woods better than anyone. I'll get you out."

Relief floods me.

I take his hand.

---

He leads me deeper into the trees.

For some reason, I don't question it. Maybe it's the calm way he walks, or the fact that he keeps looking back to make sure I'm still there.

"I was locked up for days," I say quietly. "They never told me why."

"Did they hurt you?"

"No. But they… watched me. Waited. It felt like something was coming."

He nods thoughtfully. "Some people are cowards. They don't want to do the dirty work themselves."

I glance at him. "Do you know who they are?"

"I know enough," he says without explaining further.

The trees thin slightly. We reach a clearing.

It's quiet. Too quiet.

I stop. "This doesn't look like a way out."

Theron turns to face me fully. "That's because it isn't."

His tone is different now. Harder. I take a step back instinctively.

"Theron?" My voice trembles.

Then it starts.

His body contorts.

Bones crack. His spine arches backward unnaturally. Muscles bulge beneath his shirt before it tears. Fur bursts through skin. His hands curl into claws. His jaw elongates. Teeth glisten.

I scream and stumble back.

No. No, this can't be happening.

He's a—he's a—

A werewolf.

He growls low, taking a step toward me. His red eyes glow in the dark like coals stoked with fire.

My knees give out. I land hard on the ground, heart screaming in my chest.

Then, he speaks.

His voice is distorted—deeper, laced with menace.

"Nice to finally meet you, Evelyn."