“I’m just trying to—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you were trying to do. You need to get back to your cabin before they discover you. If they find you, I won’t be able to help you.” He finally released his grip on my arms and stepped back, like he needed to withdraw himself so he wouldn’t really hurt me in his anger. “Go. Now.” His eyes lifted up slightly, as if to check if one of the other guards had departed the cabin.
I was still paralyzed, unable to move.
His eyes dropped down and looked into mine again, just as fierce as before, that rage growing.
“Why are you helping me?”
His brown eyes shifted back and forth slightly, burning into mine as his chest rose and fell with furious breaths, the vapor trailing from his nostrils into the darkness and disappearing. This was the look he’d been giving me from the privacy of his hood for the past few weeks. He looked livid, but maybe he always looked this way. “Keep pissing me off, and I’ll stop.” He came back to me and lowered his voice. “I’ll be gone for a few weeks. You’ll be on your own. So, I suggest you be on your best behavior.”
That church bell on the wind had been the first sign of hope in this desolate place. But this man was the bigger sign of hope, my saving grace. My hands shook, not from the cold, but from the comfort he brought me, the belief that there was some good in this place…even when wrapped in darkness. And losing that, even for a short period of time, was brutal. I couldn’t let him go, couldn’t lose this lifeline that God gave me. “What do you mean, you’re leaving? Where are you going? When will you be back—”
“Go back to your cabin. And do not pull this shit while I’m gone.”
I moved closer to him, my hands moving to his forearms because I wanted to touch him, to touch the only man in this camp who wasn’t evil. “Take me with you…”
His eyes didn’t blink as he looked into mine, as if he actually considered it, took a moment to figure out how he could make that happen, a plan to sneak me out of this horrible place. “I can’t.”
“Please—”
He yanked his arms from my grasp. “I said I can’t.”
“Magnus—”
“Go.” He walked away from me, dismissing the conversation, taking the stairs back to the patio.
A man’s voice sounded at that moment. “Are we playing another round or what?”
I immediately stepped back, hiding against the platform so the light couldn’t shine on my body.
Magnus’s response was curt. “Coming.” He stepped in and shut the door loudly behind him, like he wanted me to know they were all inside—and the coast was clear.
9
Trendsetter
After I made it back to my cabin, I couldn’t sleep.
I tossed and turned until morning.
The guard who came to get me was nothing like Magnus.
“Get your fucking ass up!” My door flew open, and he startled me from sleep in the most jarring way possible.
I panicked so much, I ended up falling out of bed, hitting the hardwood on my hands and knees.
The guard laughed loudly. “We’re gonna have some fun.”
My knees ached from the collision with the hardwood floor, and it took me a second to get up, to grab my boots from the floor and return to the bed to put them on.
“Go, come on.” He smacked the back of his hand against his palm in my face. “Chop-chop. That coke isn’t going to cut itself.” He kept making the hand motion right in my face, over and over, like he was trying to get a rise out of me or make me burst into tears.
I ignored him and got my boots on then grabbed my jacket.
He grabbed me by the arm and shoved me outside before I could even get the jacket on.
I stumbled forward over the wooden patio and hit the rail, my jacket hanging from my body because I only had one arm in the sleeve.
He walked past me and headed down the stairs. “Chop-chop.”
I glared at him as he passed before I righted myself. I took the stairs as I pulled on my jacket the rest of the way, zipping up the front and hugging what little warmth I had left to my body.
He walked ahead and escorted me to the clearing where I’d work for the day and strain every muscle in my body from lifting all the heavy boxes. Instead of leaving like Magnus did, he stayed, joining the others to keep an eye on our progress.
I turned to the table and started to prepare a box.
“You okay?” Bethany worked on her own box, her head down.
“I’m fine.”
“Because you look like you’re going to kill someone.”
“I must always look like that, because that’s how I always feel.”
We ate our lunch, the guards circling around, hoping that someone would step out of line so they could punish us.
Because they were sick.
The Red Snow was tomorrow…and I couldn’t go through that again.
“I snuck out of my room last night,” I whispered.
Bethany was good at not reacting, and she didn’t now. “What happened?” She stabbed her fork into the chicken and took a bite before scooping into her rice.
“I explored the camp, tried to figure out where they keep the essentials.”
“And?”
“I found the guards
