Hope's POV.
I run.
Branches tear at my arms. Roots rise like claws from the earth, trying to catch me, slow me down. But I don’t stop. I can’t stop.
My lungs burn, but it’s nothing compared to the fire inside my chest. Everything hurts. My legs. My ribs. My heart.
Tears stream down my face, hot and silent. I don’t even wipe them away. What’s the point?
The words echo over and over in my mind like a curse I can’t shake.
"You don’t belong here."
"You’re not one of us."
"This is all your fault."
I try to breathe, but it’s like I’m drowning in it — grief, shame, guilt. I push harder. Faster.
If I run fast enough, maybe I can escape it. Maybe I can leave all of it behind. The heartbreak. The loss. Me.
But I’m not fast enough.
No matter how far I go, I can still feel it clinging to m
