Chapter 3 Fleeing

Cara

I sat huddled in a corner, in the outer circle of the dancers, not daring to leave the circle of people.

There was not a single person I could turn to in that group, but I was too scared of drifting away or dozing off in one of the tents that had been erected. And I did not have the heart to sway to the loud music. So I sat, huddled and cold, trying hard not to cry, wishing I was anywhere but in that wretched place.

I had seen Jan, half naked and sozzled, as she sat in the midst of a group of young men, giggling as they groped her openly, their hands all over her. I gave a shudder of disgust.

When she had gone down on her knees before one of them, they had dragged her away, half-naked and still giggling foolishly. She had been led off by them into the woods, lurching and still cackling

.

I hated to think of what she was up to.

***

I stared moodily into the fire, my knees drawn up, my arms clutching my knees tightly, and my chin resting on them. I shivered as a particularly cold gust of wind blew, howling as it circled the area.

The faraway sound of a wolf carried over the air, and I listened with half an ear.

The outer edge of the group around the campfire was dark and menacing, seeming, in my imagination, to be closing in around us.

I shuddered again.

There was no way I was going to shut my eyes even for a minute, I told myself determinedly. There were always some of the people in the group who would remain smoking and warbling till the wee hours of the morning, keeping to the warmth of the fire. The ones who were not with their lovers and were pretending that being outcasts was cool.

Grimly, I pushed away the tendrils that had come free of my neat braid.

The minute the light broke, I thought crossly, rubbing my hands over my arms, that I was heading back to town.

The main highway was a walk away, but it would be safer in the daytime.

My thoughts were rudely broken by a chorus of voices approaching and one particular sing-song voice that never ceased to annoy me.

Now it brought a hollow of dread and a glimmer of fear that grew in the pit of my stomach. The vivid red birthmark on the underside of my left breast began to throb, a sure sign that trouble was approaching.

***

Warren and his cronies had turned up. They began to circle me like animals, scenting prey, jeering, and making lewd comments.

In one glance, it was possible to make out that Warren was drunk. He stood swaying, holding a bottle of beer in his hand but smelling of some stronger spirit. There was something sweet and cloying that clung to his clothing as he approached me.

He had also been snorting some substance, I thought, my heart pounding.

***

Stubbornly, I reassured myself that I was safe. Warren could not , would not touch me before the other people there.

Naïve, that was what I was.

Wearing an ugly grin, Warren appeared, blocking my view and effectively shutting me out from the group around the campfire With a sinking heart, I realised that no one would dare to challenge him.

I was utterly, totally alone.

***

"Well, boys,' he sneered, 'Looks like Little Red here isn't having much fun.'

His companions, who I recognized as my tormentors at school, laughed loudly. It seemed to embolden him and he came closer. I recoiled instinctively but it only seemed to amuse him.

'Shall we give her a good time or what, eh?' he leered openly and reached out to grab my wrist and haul me to my feet.

I lashed out wildly, taking him by surprise.

The moment I did it, I knew I had made a huge mistake.

People like Warren Johnson did not take lightly to being made a fool of in public. And I had rejected his advances, publicly, at his own party.

***

The ugly look on his face signaled trouble. I knew he was going to teach me a lesson now for rejecting his advances repeatedly.

He lunged forward as I shot up to my feet, turning to run.

When Warren grabbed me, I moved away and my old lace blouse ripped with a loud sound, exposing my back. The look of pure lust on his face as he took in my curvy body scared me more than I cared to think.

Turning blindly, I rushed into the forest behind me. The darkness yawned out in a sinister manner and at any other time, I would have thought twice before rushing headlong into the woods which had a frightening history. But I was desperate and I would have run into a fire to get away from them.

It turned out to be a mistake.

I was terrified and the sounds of my pursuers as they chased me, hooting and shouting, only made the panic in me swell.

I felt a presence with me, a Thought whispered in my head,

'Run, Cara, just keep running. Don't look back. Keep running.'

My father's voice, I thought frantically.

*

Panting, sobbing with exertion and fear, the knowledge that they would be rough and not spare me if they caught me, made me keep on.

So I ran wildly, tripping, falling only to get up and rush. The darkness seemed to reach out to me, the branches whipped my hair and face. It stung but with a sob, I continued.

Till I tripped over a particularly sharp branch that lay in my path and fell onto a pile of stones that had been hidden by dry foliage.

And found that I could not stand up: I had twisted my ankle.

Painfully.

***

The sound of the young men drew nearer.

Just that was when the moon chose to emerge from behind a cloud, revealing me as I lay on the ground, unable to rise to my feet and flee.

In all it's glory, the Crimson Moon shed its light over the countryside, bathing the dark woods in a strange shade of electrifying maroon.

Large and glowing red like a piece of burning hot iron, the moonlight bathed the woods in a strange, sanguine, almost molten glow,magical in appearance.

My bright red mane of hair and my brilliant blue cropped top were not exactly camouflage material, and I thrust my fist into my mouth as the three men emerged at the crest of the hill.

They spotted me almost at once.