Caught in the Storm
Amara's Bells POV
My lungs burned as I pushed through the trees, while branches were tearing at my arms, rain coming down so hard I could barely see two steps ahead.
Behind me, I could still hear him.
"You can't run forever," he shouted, his voice cutting through the storm like it belonged to it.
I didn't look back, I couldn't afford to, not with the way my legs were already shaking from running this far.
My foot caught on a root and I went down hard, mud soaking through my jeans, and for a second I thought that was it, he was going to catch me right there in the dirt.
I forced myself back up and kept moving, following the only light I could see, a small cabin sitting alone at the edge of the trees.
I didn't think too much, I just ran for it, and when I reached the door I pounded on it with both fists.
"Please," I said, my voice cracking, "please, someone let me in."
The door opened before I finished the sentence and I stumbled inside without even looking at who opened it, slamming it shut behind me and locking it with hands that wouldn't stop shaking.
For a moment, all I could hear was my own breathing and the storm outside.
Then I heard him.
A low groan, from somewhere near the fireplace, and when I turned around I saw a man sitting on the floor, back against the wall, shirt half open, sweat on his forehead even though the cabin was freezing.
"Are you okay?" I asked, taking a small step closer.
He lifted his head slowly, like it weighed too much for his neck, and his eyes struggled to focus on me.
"I don't know," he said, his words dragging into each other. "I don't know where I am."
"You're bleeding," I said, noticing the small cut near his temple.
"I don't remember how that happened," he said, and there was something in his voice that scared me more than the man chasing me outside, something like real fear.
I crouched down in front of him, and up close I could see his pupils were too big, his skin too pale.
"Did someone give you something?" I asked.
"Drugs, alcohol, anything?"
"I don't know," he said again, and this time his hand came up and grabbed my wrist, not rough, just desperate. "Please don't leave me here."
"I'm not leaving," I said, surprising myself with how steady it came out. "I'm not going anywhere."
Outside, the wind slammed something against the cabin wall and he flinched hard, his whole body pulling in like he was bracing for a hit.
"Hey," I said, "it's just a storm. It's just the wind."
"I don't like not knowing things," he said, and for a second his eyes cleared enough to actually look at me, really look. "Who are you?"
"I don't know," I said, and it was true. I didn't even know why I was telling a stranger the truth like that. "I was running from someone. I saw the light."
"Running from whom?"
"A man," I said, and my voice shook, saying it out loud. "He tried to hurt me."
His jaw tightened, and for a second, even shaking and confused, something protective flickered across his face.
"Is he going to come here?" he asked.
"I don't know," I admitted, and my whole body was still trembling, whether from the cold or the fear I couldn't tell anymore.
"Come sit by the fire," he said, nodding toward the small fireplace that was barely holding a flame. "You're freezing."
"So are you," I said.
"Then we'll freeze together," he said, and there was the faintest attempt at a smile, weak and shaky, but real.
I sat down next to him, close enough that our shoulders touched, and for a long moment neither of us said anything, just listened to the storm try to tear the cabin apart around us.
"What's your name?" I finally asked.
He opened his mouth, then stopped, his eyebrows pulling together like he was searching for something that wasn't there.
"I don't know," he said slowly. "I don't know my own name."
"That's not funny," I said.
"I'm not laughing," he said, and I realized he really wasn't, his hands were still shaking against his knees.
"Okay," I said, my voice softer now. "Then we don't need names."
He looked at me like that surprised him, like he expected me to push, to ask more questions, to leave.
"Just tonight," I said. "Just until the storm passes."
"Just tonight," he repeated, like he was trying to convince himself it was that simple.
The wind howled again, and I felt him shift closer, not saying anything, just needing something solid to hold onto, and honestly, so did I.
I don't remember which one of us moved first, only that at some point his hand found mine in the dark, and I let it stay there.
We didn't talk about the man chasing me or the blood on his temple or the fact that neither of us knew anything real about the other.
We just held on, two strangers with no names, waiting out a storm that felt bigger than both of us.
At some point, wrapped in the little warmth the fire gave off and the sound of the rain finally slowing, I let my eyes close.
His hand was still around mine when I fell asleep.
When I woke up, the fire had burned down to nothing, gray morning light coming in through the window, and the cold air hit me before anything else did.
I turned my head toward the spot beside me.
He was gone.
