“My . . . mother,” she said, and gestured in the direction of William. “He . . . killed.”
“You didn’t know, did you?” C.P. asked.
Mattie shook her head, felt the grief swelling inside her, pushing against her skin, making her feel like she would burst. How could she live with this? How could she ever feel whole again?
My mother is dead. What happened to Heather?
What if William had killed her, too, killed her smiling sister who built fairy houses in the yard and danced with Mattie—not Mattie, Samantha—to loud music and built forts in the living room out of blankets and pillows? What would Mattie do then if there were no one to go home to?
You’re not going back to William no matter what.
But she’d come away without the money she’d so carefully hidden, without any food or clothing.
“I’m really sorry,” Jen said. She seemed to be feeling the effort of holding Griffin. Her face was tight and her voice strained. “About your mother, I mean. And I’m sorry it was such a crap way to find out about it. But we really have to run—or walk, or stumble, whatever. I’ve got a feeling that guy has a gun, and when he wakes up he’s going to get it and then come after us.”
Mattie nodded. “He . . . does. Gun.”
C.P. gestured to Jen. “Let me take Griff. You take her.”
“She has a name,” Jen said. “Samantha.”
It was strange to hear that name coming out of someone else’s mouth, to hear someone else claim it on her behalf.
Jen passed Griffin to C.P. Griffin’s eyes were rolling around in his head. He seemed to be barely conscious, and Mattie wondered how well he could walk even with assistance.
Jen held out a hand for Mattie to grasp. The other woman had a strong grip and she pulled Mattie up like Mattie was made of air. Mattie held tight to Jen’s hand as her legs trembled. She wasn’t sure if she could walk forward.
“You’re just a little fairy thing, aren’t you?” Jen said, scooping her arm around Mattie. Jen was much taller, almost as tall as William. The other woman smiled at Mattie to show that she didn’t mean anything rude by her comment, and Mattie again felt that warmth bloom in her chest. She looked down at the ground, though. She didn’t know if she ought to be so familiar with someone she’d just met.
Someone who saved you. Someone who did what you should have done to William years ago—hit him in the head with a rock until he stopped moving.
Mattie would never forget how fierce Jen had looked, how she hadn’t hesitated.
You used to be like that. You were fearless until William beat it out of you. You need to stop thinking the way he taught you to think.
They all shuffled along in the snow like weird three-legged animals, Griffin supported by C.P. and Mattie supported by Jen. Jen’s long hair was loose under her cap and it kept tickling Mattie’s face. Mattie was suddenly conscious of her homemade dress, her heavy coat and boots.
Jen wore trousers like the men—jeans, they’re called—and a brightly colored jacket made of some soft material under a puffy vest. She seemed warm and comfortable and able to move easily, and Mattie was wearing clothes that trapped her, held her in place.
She was unable to stop herself from checking over her shoulder frequently for William. He’d never let Mattie go now, not when she knew his secret.
I killed your mother.
That was what he’d said. He’d killed her mother.
I can’t remember her face, and now I’ll never see it again.
“I gotta take a break,” C.P. said.
They’d reached a place where there were several large boulders clumped up together. One of them had a low flat top, perfect for sitting. C.P. carefully lowered Griffin to the boulder and sat down beside his friend. Griffin slumped backward immediately, his body propped at a strange angle by his large pack.
“Get his pack off him,” Jen said.
C.P. helped Griffin out of his pack and propped it under Griffin’s head. Griffin closed his eyes.
“Don’t go to sleep,” Jen warned. “That guy could pop out of the woods at any minute.”
She turned to Mattie. “You should probably sit down, too, and let me take a look at your head.”
Mattie perched on the edge of the rock near Griffin. Jen took Mattie’s hat off and Mattie saw the other woman flinch when she looked at the wound.
“It doesn’t look too good,” Jen said, wrinkling her nose. “It’s clotting, but it’s pretty long. You’re lucky it’s shallow, though.”