But we’re getting there. We’re going to make it down into this valley. The houses are farther than I thought but I can see them. We are going to get help and we will be safe. I repeat this to myself over and over with every step.

We will be safe.

We will be safe.

We will be—

Something hits me square between the shoulder blades. I pitch forward, knees hitting the snow and my body slamming after. I’m falling, shoulders crumpling under as my body rolls over and down. I feel snow and sticks and pain. I spread my arms and legs, reaching for anything to slow my awkward tumble. My leg hooks over a small tree, and I stop with a jolt, my body aching at the impact, my head facing downhill.

I ease myself over to all fours with a groan, snow soaking through my jeans and gloves. I push up from the ground, trying to orient myself. I can’t get off my knees. Everything is shades of gray and white—the sky, the trees, the ground. Like my paintings. Like my mind.

I replay the thump between my shoulders and tense. I know what that impact was. I didn’t fall; I was pushed.

Adrenaline sings like fire through my limbs. I lumber to a crouch and scan the slope rising away from me. Trees. Trees.

Kayla.

She is tall and thin, her skirt billowing in the snow. Her face nothing more than hollows of shadow.

“I’m sorry,” she says again. Just like the bathroom, her voice shaking. “I needed—I’m sorry.”

All the breath is kicked out of me. Snow blows into my eyes, and by the time my vision clears, she’s halfway back up to the road. I see the back of her skirt and tangled hair. I don’t understand. I don’t—

Kayla reaches out near a small pine tree. Like she’s waiting for help. Or a gift.

I feel the blood drain from my face. Someone is on the hill with her. It’s hard to see in the darkness, but I see a hand reaching. Helping her?

No. Someone is handing something to her, a small, orange cylinder. And something else—something small and square.

“You asshole,” she snarls. “You took it.”

The dark figure shrugs. Kayla closes her fingers around the bottle of pills and looks at me one last time. I don’t understand. And then all the pins tumble into place and the lock opens.

She is holding a bottle of pills. Whoever that is, they just gave her pills—paying her off and returning her goods. Oh my God, he had help. Brecken paid Kayla with pills to help him. He was just looking for the opportunity. I scan the guardrail for Josh, terrified that I’ll see him injured. Worse.