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Music blared from the campsite nearest the trail to the outhouse. Katelynn sat inside the trailer beside the window with the glass opened two inches. After suffering inside a stuffy, overheated trailer all day, she'd decided being cold at night was easier to handle.
Loud laughter broke through the country music. She squinted. People moved around the roaring fire. She envied their fun.
If she could erase the last six months, the old her would've jumped at meeting new people and having a good time if invited to share their campfire. But, throwing caution to the wind to explore what she'd always deemed as the purpose in her life, trusting people was a thing of the past.
Not that the old her would've gone camping. There was nothing about the birds chirping, the trees surrounding her, and dirt all over the ground that appealed to her. She would've loved to stay home and hang out on Facebook or Snapchat with her many online friends.
With no phone to connect to the outside world, she was thankful for the people across the way. They had no idea she used them for entertainment to stay awake. She propped her elbow on the table and cupped her chin. Soon, the fire would be gone. The people would retreat to their campers. And, the dark would invade her trailer once again.
She'd be alone.
Between now and in the morning, she would have to decide what to do.
She'd used the money for the campsite. There was less than a quarter of a tank of gas in her truck. By now, the trailer she stole had been reported to the police. If she tried to pull it onto public roads, she'd get arrested.
A hollowness filled her. She hadn't thought things through during her panic to leave. Her best option turned out to be the worst decision she'd ever made.
She sighed. Not the worst.
Her previous living situation was the worst. She stared at the orange glow of the fire. Anything was better than what she'd been doing.
The trailer door rattled. The whole RV tilted. She grabbed the knife off the table as the door swung open.
Cord Miller filled the small space.
She pressed her back against the cushion and slid the weapon underneath the table. The space closed in on her. She panted for breath, and her stomach turned as the yeasty aroma she associated with Cord wafted into the trailer.
Cord's nostrils flared, and he swayed, holding a set of keys in his hand. "You thought you could leave me?"
Repulsed, she was once again knocked off balance by how she ever found Cord attractive. She tightened her grip on the knife.
"Take your trailer. Take my truck. I don't care." She pulled her shoulders back and stood. "I am not going back with you."
Cord tossed the keys on the counter and stepped toward her, bumping into the cabinet. "No bitch is going to tell me what I can and can't do. You're going to get in the truck and take my trailer home, and then I'm going to make sure you never step out of my house again."
Unable to get past him, she half-turned, ready to kick out if he tried to touch her. She was not going back with him.
She opened her mouth and screamed, "Help. Help me!"
"Shut up." Cord lunged forward.
She kicked out, tipping into the table. "Help! Someone, help me."
Cord grabbed her hair, pulling her closer. A sharp pain cut into her scalp. She screamed more in shock at someone hurting her.
"Shut your fucking mouth." He shook her by her hair, banging her hip against the edge of the table.
She kicked behind her, straining against his hold. "Stop. You can't do this to me. Let me go."
He dragged her backward. Reaching up, she fisted her hair under his hand, trying to stop the pain. "Please. Help me!"
The music from the campsite on the other side of the loop that she'd enjoyed moments ago muffled her cry. She panted, trying to fill her lungs completely, and yelled out again.
Cord threw her against the refrigerator. Her cheek hit the flat surface, and she fell to her knees. Scrambling away from him, the L-shaped kitchen blocked her exit. She pressed her back against the cabinet.
"I should've let my brother have you before now. When I get you home, I'm not going to let you have any more time, bitch." He growled and reached for her.
She kicked out, but he pushed past her feeble attempts to stop him with bare feet. "Get away from—"
Cord grabbed her neck, choking off her scream. Panic surged through her, and she swung her arms out trying to push him away and realized she still held on to the knife.
He roared in pain and stumbled backward. With the extra space between them, she coughed, trying to catch her breath.
Blood spotted Cord's upper arm. She gazed up into his sober eyes. The injury snapped him out of his drunken rage.
His face reddened, and he stepped forward. She wheezed, pressing her back against the cabinet, and tried to push to her feet.
His hand shot out and gripped her neck, lifting her off the floor. Spots entered her vision. She couldn’t breathe.
Pain radiated from her neck down both arms. She was going to die.
She lost sight. Blinded and scared, she used all her strength and thrust the knife toward Cord.
The blade came to a solid stop.
Silence filled the trailer.
The hand around her throat fell away.
Air filled her lungs and coughs tortured her body as she tried to breathe.
Perspiration coated her skin. She hung her head, drinking oxygen like a drunk guzzling his last drink.
Cord backed away from her. She slipped and fell back on her ass, shaking out of control.
A gurgle came from above her. She raised her gaze, blinking to see what was in front of her, afraid Cord would grab her again and choke the life out of her.
He staggered in the trailer, clutching the top of his chest.
She gawked in horror, finding the knife that'd been in her hand stuck to the base of his neck. Pushing to her feet, she pressed against the kitchen counter as Cord fell to his knees and toppled over at her feet.
Red blood trailed across the tilted floor and slid under her toes. She gagged at the warmth and stretched over Cord's body, escaping the corner of the trailer.
Pushing out the door, she fell to the ground on her hands and knees. She squeezed her eyes shut.
She'd stabbed him.
Needing to tell someone, she pushed to her feet and ran three steps and stopped. No, she couldn't tell anyone.
What if she'd killed him?
No, she hadn't done anything wrong. Cord attacked her. She needed to call an ambulance.
Automatically checking her back pocket for her cell, her pulse pounded. Cord had taken her phone. He'd taken everything from her.
Needing help, she looked for the orange glow of the fire on the other side of the loop. The party was over and a light shined through the front window of the motorhome.
She ran toward the recreational vehicle and changed her mind halfway there. The building where she'd checked into the campground would have a phone.
Her chest spasmed on choked sobs. Her thoughts tripped her, and it was only by a miracle she stayed upright and found the office. She banged her fists on the wooden door.
"Please, help me." She looked behind her.
The dark squeezed in on her. What if Cord was out there coming after her? What if he was already dead? What if she'd murdered him?
She raised her fists again, and the door opened. The momentum of her urgency sent her tumbling inside. Arms caught her, hauling her to her bare feet.
"You have to call 911." She gasped for breath, recognizing Quint. "I-I stabbed him. I didn't mean to—there's blood."
"Calm down." Quint lifted her by the arms and put her inside the office, kicking the door shut. "Who's hurt?"
"H-his name's Cord Miller." She clutched the front of Quint's shirt. "I think he's dead."