He flies backward, landing hard on the floor, and I take a moment to gasp for air. It rushes in, making the stars that signal the beginning of unconsciousness fade a little. I crawl backwards until I reach the front door.

And I wait.

He tries to get up a few times. The nasty words spill out of his mouth in a slur. But he never makes it. It takes long, endless minutes for his eyes to finally close.

And even though all I want to do is sit here and cry, I get to my feet. My legs are shaking so bad they almost give. But I steady myself against the front door and give myself a moment to cope.

Cope. I do that well. Coping with violence and terror is a gift from the man in my dreams.

My lungs suck in as much air as I can. I close my eyes. I count to ten. And when I open them, I move.

I run to his bedroom, fling open a door that has to be a closet and smile when I see clothes hanging. I grab a long-sleeved flannel shirt and shove my arms inside. I don’t even stop to button it up. I just grab the nearest pair of jeans. They are way too big and far too long, but fuck it. I roll them up and find a belt, and then go for the shoes. He’s got one pair of boots in the closet. Boots that are like a million sizes too big. But it’s the dead of winter and I can’t go outside unless I have something on my feet. I grab two pairs of socks and tug them on with shaking hands, then slip my feet into his boots.

When I go back out into the living room, I half expect him to be waiting with a shotgun trained on my face. But he’s not. He’s on the ground still. Breathing heavy and hard. I walk past him, and he reaches out and grabs my ankle, pulling me to the ground.

“No!” I scream it in a voice I’ve never heard before. I kick him in the face again, and the blood spills out of his lip. One more and he lets go.

I get to my feet, ready to pass out from the adrenaline and the fear. And then I force myself to move. I bolt for the door and throw it open. It’s snowing. And freezing-ass cold. There’s a snow machine parked in front of the cabin. But beyond that there is nothing. Nothing but trees and darkness.

The keys, Sydney. Find his keys.

Right. I calm myself and turn back to the cabin. They have to be here somewhere.

I rifle through the kitchen drawers, then the nightstand in his bedroom. I look through the closet and check the bathroom. But even before I finish all that I know where they must be.

In his fucking pocket.

I walk back to his body, keeping more than an arm’s length of distance between us. His head is tilted to the side and his eyes are open.

“You’renotgonnagetaway,” he says, his words slurring so bad I almost don’t understand him.

“Fuck you.” I walk behind him and bend down, reaching into his pocket. His hand comes up, reaching for me, but he misses. The drugs are working now. He might not be out, but he’s down.

Down enough for me to shove my hand in and pull out what I need, anyway. I spit on him as I walk by. And then I grab a coat that’s lying across the couch, find gloves in the pocket, open the door, and walk out.

The snow machine is covered in snow, and there are no tracks, so it’s been sitting for a little while at least. But I’m a country girl. A backcountry girl. I’ve been riding snow machines all my life. I brush off as much snow as I can, find the ignition, and shove the key in. I turn it to the on position and then pump the primer a few times before releasing the choke.

“You’re not gonna get away, bitch.”

I look up and see Case standing in the doorway, holding onto it like his life depends on it. He smiles. “You cunt. There’s no gas.”

“Fuck you,” I say, pulling on the starter cord as I do it. Nothing. “Not even you are stupid enough to ride up into the wilderness on empty.”

Case takes a step forward, stumbling up to the porch railing. He’s less than twenty feet away. But he’s slow.

I’m slow too, but my drugs have worn off and his are just kicking in. On the fourth pull the engine roars to life. I twist the throttle a little and then put her in gear. I lurch forward, make a wide turn not ten feet away from him now, and then gun it.

There’s no path in the woods. But he got up here somehow, so I find a clearing in the trees and assume that’s the trail.

I give the machine some gas and take off into the dark, navigating by the single headlight. I go fast at first, but I hit a few bumps, get some air, and then calm myself. Go slow, Sydney. If you crash, you’re dead.

I have no idea where I’m at, but trails are here for a reason. They lead places. And right now I don’t care where this one leads, I’m on my way.

It twists and turns, making me go even slower. So slow sometimes, I could probably get farther by walking.

I’m freezing. I have no scarf and no hat. But I keep going. I come upon a hill of snow and gun the machine to get over it. It chokes and stalls out on the other side.

But there’s something else on the other side too. A light. Just up ahead through the trees. A house!

I pull the cord to start the machine again, and that’s when I hear it. The whine of another engine from behind me.

Holy fuck. He has two of them!

I get off the machine and start to run through the deep snow. My boots are way too big to run in, and I lose one when I fall into a drift that comes up to my knees.

The engine from behind is getting louder now, but I can’t risk frostbite by leaving that boot. I scramble back and shove it on my foot and then plunge ahead, trying my best to make progress in the deep snow.

The light is getting brighter now, so I force myself to keep going. My foot is freezing, even through the boot, because both pairs of socks are soaked.

The engine cuts off in the distance, and I know he’s found my machine in the middle of the trail. He has to come on foot now too.

I go faster. I have no idea where I find my energy, but I find it. I plow through the snow, falling and getting back up so many times I lose count. And there’s a path. The snow has been cleared. A two-foot-wide area that leads up to my salvation and allows me to ask my muscles for one more burst of energy. I pump my arms and I’m almost to the house when something snags my ankle.

I fall into the snow face first and realize he’s got me again.

“Scream,” he says, his whole body falling on top of me. “Scream, Sydney. No one’s gonna hear you.”

I open my mouth—

But he’s right. No one hears me because he punches me in the head so hard I have no chance. I black out from the pain.

“Always know when to give in.”

– Sydney

I come to hog-tied. Hands and feet bound together. Some kind of tape over my mouth. He’s got me positioned in front of him on the other snow machine, and the wind and snow is whipping against my face.

I struggle enough to make him swerve and angry at the same time. He stops the machine and grabs my shoulders, pulling my face in close to his.

Breathing is difficult. For the life of me, I cannot get enough air into my lungs, but I’m trying my best. I wheeze with each intake, the tape against my mouth giving way just the slightest bit as I try to gulp oxygen. It’s a trick though. Everything is always a trick. Because whatever slight bit of air getting through is just enough to suck the tape against my mouth even more when I try to inhale.

“Look,” Case says in my ear. “If I don’t get us home, we’re gonna freeze to death. You get that?” He pulls my hair, yanking my head back. “You drugged me. I’m half asleep right now so our chances are not looking good. And now I’m stopped, trying to keep your bitch ass from making me ram this four-hundred-and-fifty-pound machine into a goddamned tree. So how do you want this to go? Freeze to death? Crash first and then freeze to death? Or make it home in one piece, alive?”