I'll get help, she told herself. I have to get help.

She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, away from her sister--away from the cabin.

She had no idea what was going to happen to them. She didn't know what he was going to do. But she knew she needed to get away.

The forest was menacing in the dead of night. Nicky tore through the trees. The canopy of trees blocked most of the moonlight. The blackness of the forest was a blanket, smothering her. Leaves and pine needles crackled under her feet, like a thousand men stomping through the woods.

Nickys fear was breaking through the adrenaline. It tasted bitter. She could feel it choking her.

This was real. Whatever had happened during those three days changed her life forever. She didn't want to go back there. She didn't want to be that girl anymore. She didn't want to have to cope with those memories. She didn't want to know what had happened between her and that man.

Nicky struggled to breathe. It wasn't just a physical struggle--it was something inside her. She could feel it, deep within her. She could feel her body resisting her.

But finally, she made it to the road.

She was in the middle of the woods, and the only thing she could see was the vast, open wilderness in all directions. The only thing she could hear was the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional birdcall. The only thing she could feel was the cool, refreshing breeze on her skin and the sturdy earth beneath her feet. She was alone and unprotected and there was nothing she could do to get help if she needed it.

She started walking, staggering a little, trying not to trip on the uneven road. She knew where she was going. She had to find someone, anyone. She had to find help.

So she walked, and walked, and walked, and the whole time, not a single car passed.

It wasn't until a light appeared ahead that Nicky began to feel hope.

It was a gas station.

There was a convenience store attached, and a few cars parked out front.

The light was bright, and as she got closer, she saw that it was a sign, written in large, red letters:

OPEN 24 HOURS

Nicky could see the outline of a man standing behind the counter, and she saw the glow of a cigarette. She walked inside, the bell above the door jingling to alert him she was there.

She eased over to the counter, but the man didn't look up. He was sitting on a stool, reading a newspaper, a cigarette dangling from his lips.