Precious And Fragile Things. Megan Hart

want me here, so just…” Her voice broke, softened, slipped into a murmur. “Please, Todd. Please.”

      Again, he shook his head. His voice got lower, too. “You say you won’t tell them anything, but even if you mean it, I know you will. You’ll have to. They’ll keep at you and keep at you. It’s what they fucking do, Gilly.”

      “Who?”

      “Them. The cops. Your therapist. Your fucking husband, I don’t know. Someone will want to know where the fuck you were, and with who, and you can’t tell me you won’t break down and tell them. You’ll spill it all, and I’ll be totally fucked. And I’ll tell you something,” Todd said, voice lower still, his body stiff and tense, “I won’t go back to jail.”

      Gilly wasn’t surprised Todd had been to jail. He must’ve seen the lack of shock in her expression, because he looked first ashamed, then defiant. He lifted his chin at her.

      “I mean it. Not going back. Ever. I can’t.”

      “You should’ve thought of that before,” Gilly said under her breath but loud enough for him to hear her.

      “You think I fucking didn’t?”

      Gilly shrugged. “I don’t know what you thought. But you have to see that no matter what happens, you’re going to get caught, Todd. Whether you let me go or I get away.”

      He studied her, dark eyes pulling her apart and leaving big gaps in the seams of her composure.

      “No. I’ll do…whatever I have to.” The words were clipped and tight, his expression hard.

      Gilly had thought the same. Whatever she had to, to survive. To get away from here and back to her family. If Todd was as desperate as she was—but she couldn’t let herself think about that right now. Couldn’t let herself be afraid.

      Time spun out as they stared each other down. From the corner of her eye, Gilly spotted a glint of metal on the counter beside them. Though she tried not to let her eyes flicker, something in her gaze must have given her away. She saw it in his eyes, the sudden wariness that showed he knew what she was thinking.

      Todd launched himself across the table as Gilly pushed back in her chair so hard it toppled to the floor. His fingers, not clenched now but stretched into grappling talons, scratched at her neck but didn’t gain purchase.

      Gilly would’ve hit the floor if the wall hadn’t been so close behind her. Instead, she cracked the back of her head hard enough to see stars. She rolled along the short length of wall until she reached the opening to the living room. Her feet twisted on themselves and she almost fell, but her hand, grasping, found the edge of the counter, and she stayed upright. Her fingers clenched over the bundle of keys.

      Todd moved fast, with swift, athletic grace, but Gilly had the thoughts of her children to fuel her. She turned, swiftly, as he grabbed at her. Keys bristled between her knuckles, and she sliced at him, hard. The metal slashed his cheek. He clapped a hand over the wound, which gushed bright blood.

      He caught her just inside the living room and knocked her feet out from under her. Gilly hit the floor on her hands and knees, the keys still gripped tight in her fist. With a low growl, Todd grabbed her ankles and yanked her closer, scrabbling at the back of her shirt but not quite able to catch her.

      Gilly rolled, kicking, as he loomed over her. Todd’s eyes glittered, fierce, the blood on his face like war paint. He grabbed the front of her shirt, tearing it.

      She kicked him in the nuts. Her foot didn’t connect squarely, hitting part of his thigh, but it was enough. Todd went to his knees with a strangled groan.

      Gilly got up and ran.

      Adrenaline exhilarated her. She flew to the front door and leaped through it, leaving it hanging open. She’d misjudged the stairs and the icy ground beyond, and so went sprawling onto her hands and knees. Rocks tore her pants and her skin. She didn’t drop the keys even though the sharp metal sliced her.

      Gilly got up, palms bloodied, and ran for the truck. She heard Todd shouting and cursing on the porch behind her. She didn’t stop to look around.

      The lightly falling snow had turned into thick, soft blankets of white, hiding the treacherous ice beneath. Gilly slid but kept herself from falling this time. She hit the driver’s side full on, hard enough to send spikes of agony into her shoulder and dent the door. The keys scratched the paint like four claws as she grabbed the door handle to keep from falling. He’d locked it. Her numb fingers fumbled with the key-ring remote.

      “Don’t do this!” Todd cried from the porch. A sudden gust of wind tore his words to tatters.

      Gilly ripped open the door and pulled herself into the driver’s seat. Her palms stung as she gripped the wheel and plunged the keys into the ignition. She had to do this now, because she hadn’t before. Because she’d been crazy before, crazy stupid. She’d let this man drive her away from her home, her husband, her children.

      The Suburban roared into life. Gilly kept her foot steady on the accelerator. Her right knee, already bruised from when he’d hit her there before, had taken the worst of her fall and now throbbed with every motion. Blood slicked her palms and her hands slipped until she forced her frozen fingers to curl. She yanked the gearshift into Reverse and the truck revved backward, narrowly missing the tree that loomed in her rearview mirror.

      Drive.

      Her wet feet slipped on the gas pedal and light from the headlights swung wildly as she forced the truck through the snow. She hadn’t realized it had gotten so deep. The vehicle slid a little, bouncing in the ruts when she jammed the gas pedal.

      Her heart hammered. Everything in front of her was black, and the headlights weren’t helping much. She tried to remember how long this road was, where it turned, how far to the gate, and couldn’t. All she could do was drive.

      On her left, the mountain. On the right of the narrow, ice-slick road, a steep incline. A line of trees reared up in front of her as the road bent. Gilly braked, forgetting in her panic everything she’d ever learned about driving. The truck went into a long, slow slide. It seemed impossible she’d actually hit the tree row, not in slow motion.

      Her mind was in slow motion. Her reactions. too. But not the truck. It mowed down the trees with a vast and angry crashing that pounded Gilly’s ears. The big vehicle tilted, throwing her against the door, and slammed back to the ground with a thud that jarred her to the bone. She had time to think she was going to be okay before she looked out the side window and saw the side of the mountain reaching for her.

      The Suburban veered into the wall of rock. Metal screeched. Gilly, not wearing a seat belt, was flung forward into the steering wheel hard enough to knock the breath out of her. It didn’t end there—the truck shuddered and groaned, sliding on ice and snow.

      She was going over.

      Gilly had no breath to scream. She did have time to pray, but nothing came but the sight of her children’s faces. That was prayer enough.

      The Suburban jolted off the road and over the edge, nearly vertical at first and then with a huge, thumping slam, it came to rest with the hood crumpled against a tree. The airbag didn’t even go off, something she only noticed when she could see, very clearly, the bent and broken trees barely managing to keep the truck from sliding down the mountain. The horn bleated and died. The interior lights had come on and the pinging noise signifying an open door sounded although all the doors were closed.

      Everything blurred. She tasted blood. Warmth coated her lap and dimly, Gilly was embarrassed to think she might’ve wet herself. It wasn’t urine but more blood gushing from a slice in the top of her thigh. She groaned, the sound of her voice too loud.

      The door opened. Gilly screamed, then, thin and whistling but with as much force as she could muster. In the next minute Todd yanked her from the driver’s seat, shoving her against the metal. Gilly swung and missed.

      “Let me go!”

      “You crazy