Precious And Fragile Things. Megan Hart

yanked her a few steps toward him. Gilly fought him but couldn’t get free.

      Nothing seemed real. The pain in every part of her wasn’t as bad as knowing she’d tried and failed to escape. She fought him with teeth and the talons of fingernails Arwen had painted pale blue only yesterday.

      Todd dodged her swinging fists and her teeth. He slapped her face, first with his palm. Then, when she didn’t stop flailing at him, with the back of his hand so hard her head rocked back. Gilly fell into the snowy brush and was instantly soaked. Red roses bloomed in front of her eyes.

      “You dumb bitch,” Todd said again, this time into her ear. He’d lifted her though she was suddenly as limp as a rag doll.

      He’d hit her. Nobody had hit her that way in a very long time. Blood dripped from her mouth, though everything was so shadowed she couldn’t see it hit the snow.

      Todd’s fingers dug into her arms as he jerked her upright and shook her. Everything was dark and cold around them, and the sound of creaking branches was very loud. The lights from the truck abruptly dimmed.

      “Wake up. I can’t get your ass up this hill if you’re deadweight.”

      Gilly blinked and struggled feebly. “Don’t…hit me…again.”

      “I don’t want to hit you, for fuck’s sake.” Todd sounded disgusted. “Just get your ass moving. What happens if that tree won’t hold, huh? You want to get wiped out by that truck when it goes crashing down the rest of this hill? Look up there, how fucking far we have to get back up to the lane!”

      Gilly didn’t look. She couldn’t, really. Turning her head made bright, sharp pain stab through her. Besides, it was too dark. The headlights were pointing the other way, down the steep slope, and as she watched they guttered and went out, followed an instant later by the ding-ding alert of the interior light cutting off.

      “Ah, fuck,” Todd muttered in the sudden silence. “Just stay still. Don’t move.”

      As if she could’ve moved. Gilly, limp, went to her knees when Todd let her go. The snow was soft and thick but not deep enough to cradle her. Rocks and bits of broken branches stabbed at her.

      “All right. Let’s go. Get up. I can see,” Todd said, and jerked her by the back of her collar.

      Gilly couldn’t. Everything was still black. She scrabbled along the slope with Todd yanking her hard enough to pull her off her feet a few times.

      This was a nightmare. It had to be. Right? Pain and darkness and fear.

      They got to the top of the slope and Todd paused, breathing hard. Now instead of rocks and broken trees, gravel bit into Gilly’s skin as she went to her hands and knees. It was easier to get to her feet, though, when Todd yanked the back of her collar again.

      Somehow they made it back to the clearing and the cabin, still ablaze with light that hurt her eyes after so many long minutes in darkness. Gilly was beyond fighting him by then. She barely made it up the front steps and into the living room. She definitely didn’t make it up the steep, narrow stairs to the second floor. Todd, cursing and muttering, did that by yanking and pushing her.

      With rough hands he forced her toward the bed she’d slept in. When he tried to take off her shirt, Gilly found the strength to fight him again. Todd shouted out another slew of curses.

      “Stop fighting me!”

      But she would not. If this was a nightmare, she was going to keep swinging and scratching, even though every movement made her cry in pain. Todd, finally, ripped her shirt completely down the front, pushed her onto the bed and yanked at her pants, too.

      Gilly kicked out as hard as she could. Maybe Todd dodged it, maybe she missed. She couldn’t tell. All she knew was he grabbed her by the upper arms, fingers digging deep into her flesh, to yank her to her feet.

      “I’m trying to help you!” Todd shouted into her face, breath hot and spittle wet on her cheeks. Then, “Oh, shit. Don’t you pass out on me, Gilly.”

      But Gilly did.

      7

      Gilly woke up blind. She lurched upright, clawing at her face. “My eyes!”

      Her eyes were merely gummed shut, not blind. Her head ached in the dull, persistent manner that meant no amount of aspirin would stop it. The cold air stung a long gash on her cheek. She put trembling fingers to it and felt that the wound’s curve from the left side of her jaw all the way to the corner of her eye. The crash had taken its share of skin and blood from her face, which felt puffy and tender. Her chest ached from impact with the steering wheel, but, though she sensed bruises, nothing appeared to be broken.

      She wore a thick flannel nightgown that had rucked up about her thighs. She hated nightgowns for just that reason. She touched the soft fabric with her jagged, broken fingernails and shivered with distaste.

      Gilly tested her limbs one at a time, cataloging aches and pains that ranged from mild to agonizing. Her neck hurt the worst. The pain when she looked to the left was excruciating enough to twist her stomach. The gash on her thigh proved to be shallow but ugly, sore to the touch and still oozing blood and clear fluid.

      Still, she was alive. There was that.

      A shuffle of feet from the stairs told her he was coming. She spoke before she saw him. “What time is it?”

      “Does it matter?”

      He’d paused at the top of the stairs but she could see him through the partition. Gilly rubbed at her temples but the throbbing didn’t ease. “No. I guess it doesn’t.”

      Todd took a few steps closer. “How are you?”

      “Bad.”

      “You’re a mess,” he said flatly. “You know that?”

      Gilly shrugged slightly. It was the greatest motion she could make without ripping herself open. It wasn’t slight enough; she ached and more pain flared.

      “The fuck were you thinking?”

      She looked at him. “I want to go home.”

      “Yeah, well, I want a million dollars.”

      Gilly blinked at this attempt at…humor? Sarcasm? He’d said it with a straight face, so she couldn’t be sure. “My head hurts. My neck, too. I think I strained something. And this cut on my leg needs stitches.”

      “No shit. You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt worse. That was some crash.” Todd let out a low whistle. “Nice shiner.”

      Gilly got out of bed and went to the dirt-encrusted attic window. Her entire left side felt rubbed raw. She winced at every step but could walk.

      Everything outside was white. Snow piled against the cabin in drifts that looked nearly waist high. One giant drift reached almost to the windowsill.

      No. Oh, no.

      “All of this in one night?” she cried, incredulous. She put her hands to the cold glass.

      Todd moved to her side. She shrank from him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He leaned forward to peer out the window.

      “It snowed all night and all morning, too. It stopped about an hour ago. Sky’s still gray. I don’t think it’s finished yet.”

      “The truck?”

      He shrugged. “Totaled. Halfway down the mountain, unless that tree broke. Then that bitch is all the way at the bottom, and you can forget about ever getting it back.”

      She knew that already but let out a gusting sigh that became a small moan. “Oh, no.”

      “Hope you have good insurance.”

      Another joke Gilly didn’t find amusing. She pressed her face to the glass, eyes closed, and let out another small, despairing sigh. “Does that even matter now?”

      Todd