Relief flooded me. “That would be great.”

Rob popped open a beer from their cooler and held it out. “Thirsty?”

*     *     *

“Hold her down.”

I woke up without air. Someone was on top of my chest, holding me down. Something else was clamped over my mouth, blocking my breath. I struggled, managing to dislodge the hand long enough to suck in precious lungfuls, but by the time I could focus again, my arms were bent backward, trapped in the sand by two heavy knees pressing down, cutting off circulation.

Trevor straddled my chest, mauling my breasts. My dress was pushed up, the thin fabric bunched around my neck, making me feel even more trapped. My breathing came faster. Dark spots danced in front of my eyes. I was going to black out. Maybe that would be best. Then I wouldn’t have to feel what came next. But I might not wake up. Already I struggled to breathe, jerking and flailing for unblocked access to the crisp night air.

Slowly, I stilled. Around me, there was motion. The men were moving over me, around me. Hurting me. I stared up at the stars. They were so bright out here. There were never so many at home. Was this the price to see them?

A sharp pain stabbed at my center. My entire body recoiled from his penetration, writhing in the sand with nowhere to go. The night sky blurred as tears filled my eyes, and the twinkling lights melted and swirled. It reminded me of a painting I’d seen in a book, swirls of blue and yellow. Maybe the artist had cried and painted what he’d seen. Maybe he had been hurt too while looking up at the sky.

How had this happened? I’d agreed to stay the night in their camp. They were hiking back to the nearest town in the morning and they’d take me with them. Oh God, oh God. Had it been a lie to keep me there? Or I’d just been too convenient.

The world was exactly as awful as my mother had said it was, but I didn’t even wish to be home. Like the girl in the story, the true story, I wanted to take a canoe onto the river, to let it slip over the waterfall and never have to worry again.

This time, Hunter wasn’t here to catch me. No god of thunder to keep me safe.

I was alone, though I’d lost something precious, something important along my harrowing trip through the trees. I’d lost fear. So let me die, let me hurt. I didn’t care, and the detachment lent me strength.

With a force unknown, I snapped my head forward. My forehead cracked against the man on top of me. I shoved him off me and started to get up. Other hands dragged me down, but I kicked and screamed. I bit down on fingers until I tasted blood and felt my teeth grind against bone.

Blows rained down on my head, my stomach. I fell to the ground, gasping for air but taking in sand. Pain blossomed all over my body as they closed in on me. They huddled around me and kicked, and I stared up at the sky, my body jostled about by their currents, tipping over the edge of the waterfalls and falling, tumbling to a welcomed conclusion.

A crack rang out and one of the men fell over my body. There was shuffling and shouting, then another crack and a thud beside me.

Hunter, Hunter, is that you?

Someone came to stand over me, blocking the stars. Not Hunter, I realized. Never Hunter because I’d left him. Just an ordinary man, and I understood what had sent the girl out into the canoe. Why did you catch me from falling? I wanted to die.

Chapter Thirteen

At the current rate of erosion, scientists predict the Niagara Falls will be gone in around 50,000 years.

I woke up bound to a bed, my arms held immobile beside me, my whole body weighted down and sweating. No, not again. I fought, kicking and punching my way out of the restraints. A man appeared over me and held me down, shouting something I couldn’t make out.

“Hunter!” I screamed his name, though I didn’t know whether it was in anger or a call for help. My heart beat against my chest like a drum. God, he’d made me this way. If he was going to domesticate me, he had to damn well keep me from running away.

Resigned, I slumped down on the bed, sobbing quietly. I was the crazy one.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” a voice said.

He sounded relieved, I thought.

I opened my eyes to see an older man blink at me with worried eyes. “It’s going to be okay.”

With a sigh, I said, “Just do what you’re going to do.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Oh sure, like I’d believe that. Then again, Hunter had never really lied about his intentions. That was just the warped way he saw the world.

This man didn’t seem like he would hurt me. I had to doubt my ability to read people considering my lack of experience and my general state of confusion where Hunter was concerned, but I didn’t feel threatened.

He was old, with wrinkles falling over rheumy gray eyes and more hair in his eyebrows than on his head. His plaid shirt was faded and worn but clean, buttoned all the way up.

“Who are you?” I croaked.

“You don’t remember?”

I closed my eyes. The memories were slowly coming back, even though I didn’t really want them to. Running through the woods, meeting those boys. Fighting them off.

I met his gaze. “You shot them.”

He nodded. “They brought it on themselves.”

I looked down and saw that the sheets had been tucked around me—not tying me down but keeping me warm. My skin was clammy. I struggled to sit, and the old man kept his distance, probably having learned his lesson after struggling with me earlier.

“You asked me not to call the police, so I brought you back here to heal. The fever broke last night, I think.”

“How long?”

He looked up, a little uncertain. “Oh, maybe three days. Sorry, not entirely sure. Time passes a little different when you’re used to being alone.”

Yeah, I could sympathize with that.

I finally glanced around the cabin, taking in the small bookcase with pulp thriller novels, the open shelf with blackened pots and pans, the small, ancient-looking television.

And only one bed.

He caught my line of thought. “I slept on a roll in the corner.”

I’d put him out of his bed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you worry. It was just like camping again. But now that you’re awake, maybe you want to reconsider calling the police. Or at least let me take you to a hospital. They can check you out better than I can.”

I shook my head. “No cops.”

My heart had gone from twisted to torn right in half when I’d run from Hunter. But however much I might rage against him on the inside, I didn’t want him behind bars.

Unfortunately, waking up didn’t mean I was fully healed. Though I had no broken bones that we could tell, there were enough bruises that my body wanted to rest all day long. The man’s name turned out to be Jeremiah, and he was generous with his space, his food, and his stories.

True to his word, he never laid a finger on me. In fact, he was exceedingly careful of my personal space in such cramped quarters. He knew what had happened to me from how he’d found me. He told me the first day I woke up that “those boys” wouldn’t bother me again, and I couldn’t summon enough compassion to ask if they had lived or died.

Instead Jeremiah shared with me stories of a young man in the Wyoming wilderness, tales of hunting bear and running from geese that I wasn’t sure whether to believe but I enjoyed all the same.

Three days after I’d arrived, I was sitting at his kitchen table eating scrambled eggs and hotcakes for breakfast. He began telling me a story of how he and his friends had gone up to “the falls” for a buddy’s bachelor party. There was something about smuggling a stripper over the Canadian border, but I had to interrupt.

“Niagara Falls?”

“One in the same, darlin’. You ever been?”