But I don’t want to die here.
All alone and with no one to watch over me.
“Please,” I whisper with whatever breath I have left in me, praying someone may find me as even time itself seems to escape me.
And even though sudden rustles in the leaves behind me should have fired off my muscles and made me run, I lie still and fall into a dreamless slumber.
When I come to again, it feels as though ages have passed. I blink a couple of times to take in the light. The sun is still there, which means it’s not night yet.
I open my eyes fully and take in my environment. Wood everywhere, a window to my left. It’s a house of some sort.
Suddenly, two eyes bore into mine.
I panic, and with a gasp, I feel my muscles cramping up again when my urge to flee kicks in.
“Calm down,” an old man says as he rubs his beard.
Wide-eyed, I try to push myself up, but I’m so damn tired and can’t even manage that.
He holds me down, whispering, “Don’t move. You’ve wasted far too much energy.” He grabs a cup from the cabinet beside where I’m lying and offers it to me. “Here. Drink.”
When the water touches my lips, I gleefully gulp it down, choking on it halfway through.
“Don’t drink too fast,” he says with a chuckle.
When I’m done, I say, “Thank you.”
“That was a close one, wasn’t it?”
I nod and ask with a soft voice, “Can I have more?”
He gets up from his seat. “Of course.”
I lean up in the bed, despite the pain in my muscles, and look at my surroundings. I’m in what looks like a tiny cabin with a small kitchen, a couch in front of a fireplace, and a single bed where I’m lying right now. “Where am I?”
“My house,” he muses as he walks to his little kitchenette and turns on the tap. “I found you unconscious in the woods.”
So I really did pass out.
He brings the same cup refilled with water back and hands it to me. “There you go.”
“Thanks.” I swallow it down in one go, and he laughs again. “How long were you out there?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t have a watch,” I reply, swallowing when he looks at me as if I’m a lost little lamb.
I don’t know if I can trust this guy and tell him the truth.
He walks to the closet and takes out something I can only describe as a granny’s old flannel. He brings it back to me and places it on the bed. “Here. Put this on. I’ll change the sheets of my bed after.”
With a frown, I realize what he means. I was soaking wet, my clothes probably covered in dirt and gunk from the ground, and now this man’s bed is soiled. Shame turns my cheeks red. “Ah, I’m so sorry,” I mutter, quickly throwing off the blankets to witness the onslaught.
“It’s okay.” He waves it off. “I was the one who put you there.”
“But still,” I say, rubbing my lips together. “I’ll help clean it.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. You need to rest. You look like you’ve been through enough.” His eyes glide up and down my torn and tattered glittery dress. A relic from the past. Nothing more. “Where did you say you were from again?”
I swallow. Hard. “I didn’t.”
His eyes narrow as the situation grows tense.
“Well, you must have someplace you call home,” he says.
I clutch the bed, my breathing still not steady, but I don’t know whether it’s from passing out with dehydration or my adrenaline rush telling me I should run.
“I do …” I sigh. “And I’m trying to find my way back.”
He snorts and walks back to his kitchenette. “Well, that seems to be going right for you.”
I don’t like his tone. “I know. But I’ll get there,” I say as I get up from the bed. “Thank you for helping me.”
I don’t want to get on his bad side, so I pretend to be friendly, even with his comments.
“My pleasure,” he replies while grabbing a tiny box from the cupboard. “I’m always happy to help.” A set of pills drops onto the counter. He looks at them, and so do I … then our eyes connect.
Sweat drops roll down my back. “Where’s the bathroom?” I ask.
He points at a tiny door beside the bed, and I quickly get up and walk toward it, never taking my eyes off him, not even as I lock myself inside with the new flannel. I take a breath and force myself to calm down. I’m here now, so I might as well put on the new clothes. A cold, clammy dress won’t help me get through this. Besides, he can’t reach me here, so this is a moment of respite I’ll gladly enjoy.