The house sits on a sloping hill and when I reach the top and begin to descend, I turn to wave at Alice, to reassure her that I am just out for some air. I see her smile and wave back, and when she finally falls from sight, I take off the boots and start to run.

I run down the driveway until I reach the gate. I pray that he forgot to replace the chain, or that he didn’t feel the need to. I tell myself that I am crazy and that he only locks the gate to protect Alice when she stays here alone. I delude myself just long enough to reach the chains, finding them locked. I pull on them furiously, knowing they won’t release. Knowing it’s futile.

I have to hold it together now. I have to be methodical. Time is precious.

I inspect the gates and the chain and the lock that holds them. I have scissors and a small kitchen knife. The gate is strong and the lock secure. I remind myself that this is the main point of entry. This is the place least likely to be vulnerable.

I look right and left. On both sides, the fence disappears into a dense tree line. I choose right because I remember turning left into the driveway. Somewhere to the right is the way back to town. This is all I have to work with. It’s entirely possible that he drove us in circles and that the town is closer to the left. It is possible we are nowhere near the town. We made so many turns.

Still, I have to decide. I have to move.

I step into the ungroomed woods and am thankful for the boots. I stop long enough to put them back onto my frozen feet. The ground harbors the sharp edges of fallen branches and protruding roots. It is uneven and soaking wet. The water is cold in spite of the sun.

The fence is wire. It is woven in small squares and is about eight feet high. At the top is coiled barbed wire. But that is the least of my concerns. The wire at the top is thin and I think I could cut through it. I can cut the barbed wire at the top, and I can jump to the other side. What I cannot do is climb to the top.

The holes are too small for the boots to fit, and every inch of the wire has barbs. They are smaller, almost invisible. But when I run my finger across a piece of it, my skins catches and starts to bleed. Little, tiny metal barbs embedded in every inch of this fence that goes on for miles it seems. Surrounding this property. This fortress.

Why?

The question has no answer that does not terrify me.

Alice said her first mommy died in these woods.