Chapter 3 - Into the Woods
The lock clicked open.
I grabbed Lily's hand and pulled her toward the back door.
We didn't have time to be quiet anymore.
I threw open the sliding glass door and we bolted into the backyard.
Beyond Mrs. Miller's fence was a dense stretch of woods that eventually led to a commercial highway.
"Don't look back, Lily," I ordered, lifting her over the low wooden fence.
I scrambled over right behind her, tearing my cardigan on a loose nail.
The trees swallowed us instantly, blocking out the moonlight and plunging us into near darkness.
Twigs snapped under my bare feet, cutting into my skin, but the adrenaline masked the pain.
Behind us, I heard the sliding glass door shatter.
Ryan wasn't playing the patient husband anymore.
"You can't hide forever!" his voice roared, distorted by rage.
We pushed through thorns and thick brush, my arms taking the brunt of the scratches to protect Lily's face.
I needed to get to the highway.
I needed a gas station, a police car, anyone who could help.
After what felt like hours, the trees began to thin, and the faint orange glow of streetlights appeared ahead.
We stumbled down a steep embankment, sliding in the mud, until we hit the asphalt of the main road.
It was completely deserted.
Not a single car was in sight.
To our left, a brightly lit 24-hour convenience store sat empty, the neon open sign buzzing in the window.
I picked Lily up and ran toward it, my lungs burning with every breath.
I burst through the glass doors, the little bell chiming loudly.
The cashier, a teenage boy wearing headphones, looked up in shock.
"Please," I gasped, leaning heavily on the counter.
"I need to use your phone, someone is trying to kill us."
The boy quickly pulled off his headphones and reached under the register.
He handed me a cordless phone with trembling hands.
I dialed 911, my fingers slipping on the plastic buttons.
"911, what is your emergency?" the dispatcher answered.
"My husband is trying to hurt me and my daughter," I cried out.
"We are at the Gas-N-Go on Route 9, please send someone!"
"Ma'am, stay calm, officers are already en route to that location," the dispatcher replied.
Relief washed over me like a tidal wave.
"Oh, thank God," I breathed, sliding down the front of the counter.
"Yes," the dispatcher continued, her voice sounding oddly strained.
"Your husband called five minutes ago."
My heart stopped.
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"He said you were having a severe schizophrenic episode and had kidnapped his daughter at knifepoint," the dispatcher finished.
Through the large store windows, the flashing red and blue lights of two police cruisers suddenly flooded the parking lot.
