I barely make it a few steps into the forest before his voice reaches me.
“You don’t have to run.”
I spin around. “I’m not running.”
“You are.”
My hands are shaking and I hate that he can probably see it.
“You don’t get to stand there and talk about being hunted like you understand,” I snap.
His jaw tightens slightly but he doesn’t step back. “I didn’t say I understood.”
“You implied it.”
“No. I said I recognized it.”
“That’s worse.”
The air feels thinner between the trees. My chest is tight and I can’t tell if it’s anger or something else.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” I say.
He holds my gaze. “No.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to have a man put his hands on you and not be able to stop it.”
That does it.
He goes still. Completely still.
“You don’t know what it’s like
