Chapter 6: I Was to Go and Never Return
Meredith.
I didn't get a wink of sleep last night. How could I?
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the cold.
It had seeped into my bones, clinging to my skin like a second layer. The wooden floor beneath me was hard and unforgiving. My muscles ached from the awkward position I had curled into overnight, and my stomach twisted painfully with hunger.
But none of that compared to the sharp ache in my cheek, with dried blood clinging to my lip from my father's slap, a cruel reminder of last night.
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself upright. The dim morning light barely seeped through the cracks in the poultry shed walls, casting long, eerie shadows.
Dust swirled in the air, the scent of damp hay and stale feathers clogging my nose. I winced at the sharp, tingling pain in my ribs as I shifted, my breathing shallow to avoid aggravating the soreness.
Sleeping here had been miserable, though I hadn't had a choice—I'd been dragged inside, discarded like garbage. My lips curled bitterly.
Even though the shed was empty of fowl, the stench of old droppings and mildew clung to the air, burning the inside of my nose. My clothes were stiff, crusted with dried blood, sweat, and dirt.
A shiver crawled down my spine.
Then I heard it: Footsteps, heavy and deliberate.