Chapter 2

The days that followed were a nightmare. The Petersons treated me like an animal, less than an animal. The shack was filthy, the food scraps. Cletus was always watching me, his eyes making my skin crawl. I thought of Grandpa Eli' s stories of survival in the wilderness, his unshakeable will. I had to have that now.

One afternoon, while Ma Peterson was outside and Pa was sleeping off whatever moonshine he' d been drinking, Cletus cornered me.

"Time we got to know each other better," he sneered, grabbing my arm.

Adrenaline surged. I stomped on his foot, hard, and when he yelped, I shoved him with all my might. He stumbled back, surprised. I bolted for the door.

Freedom was a few feet away. I burst outside, gulping the clean, cold air, and ran. I didn't know where I was going, just away.

My lungs burned, my legs ached. I could hear Cletus shouting behind me.

"Get back here, you little witch!"

I ran blindly through the dense woods, branches scratching my face, my city sneakers useless on the uneven ground. I tripped, sprawling hard, the impact knocking the wind out of me.

Cletus was on me in seconds, yanking me up by my hair.

"Thought you could get away, huh?" He dragged me back towards the shack.

Ma Peterson stood there, arms crossed. "Learned your lesson?"

As Cletus shoved me inside, I screamed, a desperate, hopeless sound. "Eli Miller! Agnes Miller! They'll find me! You'll pay for this!"

The Petersons just looked at each other.

"Miller?" Pa Peterson grunted, suddenly more alert. "You know Eli Miller?"

"He's my grandfather!" I cried, clutching at the straw of their name. "Agnes is my grandmother!"

Ma Peterson scoffed. "Eli and Agnes? They ain't got no granddaughters up here. Only grandsons. Everyone knows that."

"It's true!" I insisted, tears streaming down my face. "Please, you have to believe me!"

Just then, a young man came around the side of the shack, carrying an axe. It was Jake, my cousin. He sometimes did odd jobs for folks out in the sticks for cash. He looked different, rougher, but it was him.

"Jake!" I sobbed, relief flooding me. "Jake, it's me, Sarah! Help me!"

He just stared, his eyes narrowed. I was a mess – dirty, bruised, my hair matted. He didn't recognize me. He looked from me to the Petersons.

"What's going on here?" he asked, his voice wary.

"Just a runaway we took in," Pa Peterson said smoothly. "Claims she's Eli Miller's kin. Lying, of course."

Jake looked at me again, a flicker of something in his eyes – confusion? Doubt? Then he shook his head. "Don't know her." He turned and walked away, disappearing back into the trees.

The tiny spark of hope died. I was truly alone.