Chapter 4

As the heavy wooden door swung shut, Clara acted on pure, blind instinct. She shoved her worn sneaker directly into the narrow gap of the doorframe.

The solid wood slammed hard against the toe of her shoe. A sharp, blinding spike of pain shot straight up her leg, making her stomach churn.

Clara bit back a scream. Her face paled instantly, all the blood draining from her cheeks, but she absolutely refused to pull her foot away.

Harrison felt the physical resistance. He immediately stopped pushing the door and pulled it back open. A dark, furious scowl twisted his features.

He looked down at her trapped foot. His dark eyes flashed with genuine anger at her reckless, self-destructive behavior.

Harrison harshly reprimanded her. His voice was a low growl as he asked if she had a death wish, or if she just enjoyed breaking her own bones for fun.

Clara limped slightly as she shifted her weight off the throbbing toes. She stared up at him with red-rimmed, fiercely defiant eyes.

She told him she wasn't leaving. She leaned her aching shoulder heavily against the wooden doorframe, using her own body weight to physically block him from closing it again.

Harrison crossed his arms again. The massive, corded biceps strained against the fabric of his simple, faded gray henley shirt.

He changed his tactic. He gestured with his chin toward the dark, spartan interior of the cabin visible behind his broad back.

Harrison stated flatly that he was dirt poor. He claimed he was just an ex-con with no future, barely surviving, and absolutely could not afford to feed a woman.

Clara peered past his broad shoulders. She saw a simple iron wood stove, a bare wooden table, and a complete lack of any modern electronics or comforts.

She looked back at his face. She assured him quickly that she ate very little, needed almost nothing, and knew exactly how to stretch a single dollar.

Harrison let out a harsh, mocking laugh. The sound was dry and completely devoid of any real humor or warmth.

He told her that Walter sent her here specifically to suffer. He declared he had absolutely no interest in participating in the town's sick, twisted games.

Clara lowered her gaze, feeling a wave of defeat. As she looked down, her eyes landed squarely on Harrison's boots standing firmly on the cabin floorboards.

She noticed the boots were heavy-duty, custom-stitched leather. They were impeccably clean and polished, completely contradicting the muddy, ruined yard outside.

Clara's brow furrowed slightly as her mind raced. Her sharp eyes analyzed the fine stitching and pristine leather. Those boots must cost at least eight hundred dollars, she thought, her heart skipping a beat. A starving, destitute ex-con who barely survives out here couldn't possibly afford custom leather footwear like that. Unless... he's lying about everything. The glaring inconsistency gnawed at her, making her realize this terrifying man was hiding a massive secret.

Before her exhausted brain could process this glaring inconsistency, Harrison stepped forward. He used his massive, broad chest to physically crowd her out of the doorway.

Clara was forced to step backward onto the porch. She instinctively retreated from his overwhelming physical presence and the heat radiating from his body.

Harrison told her one last time to go home to her daddy. His tone dripped with cold, dismissive condescension.

He pulled the door shut firmly. The loud, metallic click of the deadbolt echoed sharply in the freezing night air, finalizing her exile.

Clara stood frozen on the porch. She stared blankly at the closed wooden door, the harsh reality of her total rejection slowly sinking into her bones.

A freezing gust of wind swept violently across the open porch. It cut right through her thin jacket, making Clara shiver uncontrollably.

She looked back over her shoulder toward the dark, terrifying woods. She knew walking back down that pitch-black highway alone was a literal suicide mission.

Clara firmly shook her head. She bent down and grabbed the strap of her canvas duffel bag from the floorboards.

She dragged the heavy bag to the far corner of the porch. It was shielded slightly from the biting wind by a large, stacked pile of chopped firewood.

Clara sat down on the hard, freezing wooden planks. She pulled her knees tightly to her chest, trying desperately to conserve whatever body heat she had left.

She wrapped her thin jacket tighter around her trembling shoulders. She buried her face deep in her folded arms as the temperature continued to drop rapidly.

Inside the cabin, Harrison stood perfectly still by the window. He watched her small, shivering shadow curl up on his porch through a narrow crack in the wooden blinds.