"Anything," I whispered.

"Look at me and tell me that you never want to see me again. Look me in the eyes. I want to believe you when you say it this time."

I rolled my head back, staring up at him. He hauled me to my feet, his fingers tight around my wrist, but I still had to crane my neck to look him in the eye.

I opened my mouth to do it—to tell him to go away and never come back because I wanted nothing more.

My voice died, drowned in oceans of blue.

His mouth twitched into half a smile, and he gave me a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. I hated the look that softened his face, like he understood. He didn't understand. He had no right to be understanding.

"It's okay. You know where to find me." He backed away, smile growing until it quirked one corner of his mouth up. "And if not, I will find you."

I watched him walk away. It always seemed to end this way—with him leaving at his own pace. And me, standing there and wishing that he would come back and hold me, while at the same time wishing that this time, his retreat was for good.

Just the thought brought exhaustion dragging at my eyelids.

I forced myself to turn away, ignoring the crunch of his footsteps as I reached for the doorknob. For a moment I only stood there, clutching it, steeling myself for the emptiness inside.

But this was home. It was.

I stepped over the threshold, my sneakers squeaking on the polished hardwood. The open floor plan and high ceilings made everything seem so far away, from the empty kitchen table to the blank television screen to the bedroom with its carefully made bed.

It was all too clean. Too impersonal. Too unused.

Against my will, images crowded my mind—of the way his bulk would fill the space effortlessly. The way he would look rummaging through the fridge or chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter. How it would feel to open the door and find him relaxing on the couch, waiting for me. The way he'd look up from watching TV, realize I was home, and greet me with a smile.

It filled me with a need so powerful that I almost choked. Instead, I hugged myself and shivered in the cavernous space as his voice echoed in my head.

I will find you.

No. I couldn't let that happen. In a few minutes, he'd brought months of my hard work crashing down like a tidal wave. I couldn't let it crush me. I had to swim.

And I had to leave. He couldn't find me if he didn't know where I was.

I spun around and yanked the door open again, bolting over the welcome mat without a second thought.

Maybe this time, I could finally run far enough.

__________________

My lungs screamed. My calves ached. My ankles stung with every step that drove my heels into the ground. My arms grew heavier by the second, pins and needles numbing them until they simply hung uselessly from my shoulders.

Still, I ran.

I ran until I could barely lift my feet anymore, and when the toe of my shoe finally caught on the root of a gnarled old oak tree, I fell to my knees underneath it and closed my eyes, my head hanging as my chest heaved.

I gasped and coughed and spluttered and reveled in the pain, clutching at the physical exhaustion because finally, finally, the mental exhaustion faded away.

Everything faded away. A ringing in my ears muffled the rest of the world, pulsing between my rapid heartbeats. Stars burst to life in my vision, crowned by black fuzz that raced inward. My elbows gave out, my body too heavy to hold up, and I sank into the dirt at the foot of the oak, curling into a ball and sighing as I finally let go.

__________________

Blue.

I saw nothing but blue. Cerulean smiling down at me from between twisting, leafy limbs.

It reminded me of his eyes.

With a gasp, I sat bolt upright.

I have to keep running.

I rolled onto my hands and knees, but froze as every muscle shrieked in protest. Thighs, arms, shoulders, calves, even the ones that connected my toes to my heels—it didn't matter. They all held me down, refusing to cooperate no matter how hard I tried to push myself to my feet.

"No," I mumbled, even my tongue clumsy in my parched mouth. "No, please—come on—"

"It won't work."

With a sharp inhale, I whirled toward the sound of the voice. My neck twinged, making me wince, but the pain fell from my mind as a woman came into view.

The first thing I saw was her eyes. Blue, but a deep, stormy Prussian shade, like the murky depths of the ocean. They flicked up and down my body, taking in the cuts and bruises and the smear of blood that mingled with dirt until they were indistinguishable.

She sat against a tree a few feet away, her legs crossed neatly in front of her. Her shoulders curved with a slender grace, her collarbones standing out against milky skin. Full lips, round eyes, delicate wrists and long, thin fingers that wrapped around her knees as she watched me silently.

"It won't work," she repeated, and I couldn't tear my eyes from her mouth as she spoke. She ran a hand down her arm, every movement so deliberate and perfectly choreographed to be mesmerizing.

"It has to," I said, shaking myself. "You don't understand, I can't stop running."

"No," she agreed with a smile. "Never stop running."

I stared at her, speechless. A million questions leapt to life on my tongue—Who are you? What do you mean? Do you know what I'm running from? Where did you come from?

She spoke again before I could ask any of them. "I can help you."

The air rushed from my lungs. A war erupted in my chest—those four words, something I'd longed to hear. After drowning for so long while everyone else looked on, all I wanted was a life preserver.

But still, the instinct to grit my teeth and refuse rose strong. To tell her thanks but no thanks, just so I could call myself strong. So I could look back one day and say I'd done it myself. So I could be proud.

"Don't be stupid," she chided as if she could read my mind. "You can't even stand up. Admit it, you need help."

I clenched my hands, fingers digging into the soft dirt near the base of the oak tree. "Even if that were true, I began, "how could you help me?"

She leaned forward, a spark lighting for the first time in her dark eyes. "You need to learn to live with pain."

I opened my mouth to snap at her, because I'd lived with pain for years. Unimaginable pain, pain that couldn't be seen or described because it wasn't physical. She didn't know anything about pain.

"Live with it," she cut me off. "Not love it like an old friend. Not revel in it. Not hate it with a vengeance. Not let it rule your life."

She twirled a strand of silvery-blonde hair around her slender finger, watching as it wafted perfectly back into place against her shoulder.

"Pain doesn't have to stop you. It doesn't have to hold you in place."

Her gaze arrested me, paralyzing in its intensity. As if she could see straight through me to my soul, she smiled a beautiful, symmetrical smile—a full one, and though it took up her whole face, not a single wrinkle showed.

Then she held out a hand and stood. "Come on. Let's go."

__________________

I leaned heavily on her the whole way, but she never complained. As the miles wore on, I noticed the veins popping in her forearms and the surprising muscles that rippled under her skin. For someone so much smaller than me, she never wavered under my weight.

I envied her strength.

Finally, we stopped in the center of a clearing. She uncurled my arm from across her shoulders, and I bent double to brace my hands on my aching thighs. I refused to sit down, because I knew I'd never get up again without her help.

Strong. I had to be strong, like her.

I gritted my teeth and focused on the scenery. A gentle breeze fluttered the grass, letting it tickle my ankles. In the very middle of the clearing, a stand of flowers rose, offering a splash of color: Rich blues and purples, bright yellows and reds.

For a moment, that forsaken corner of my garden flashed through my mind again—the unexpected beauty that had grown from the spot where I'd buried him.

My shoulders sagged an inch, a wave of nausea rising up my throat.

A creak split the silence, pulling me away from the memories just in time. My head snapped up as a trapdoor sprang up from among the flowers, heavy and metal and crusted with muddy-orange rust.

"Where are we?" I asked.

She just motioned me closer, and I shuffled forward until I could see a ladder disappearing deep into the ground. I looked back up at her, ready to repeat my question, but she grinned.

"Somewhere safe."

__________________

"Don't you dare stop now!"

"I—"

A wheeze interrupted my attempt to speak, and I gave up immediately. I'd tried to reason with her before—to tell her I'd had enough, that I couldn't go on any longer, that the next step would be the death of me, or the next mile was one too many—but she never listened.

She never let me doubt myself.

And she was always right.

But now, as sweat dripped into my eyes and stung them to no end, as I panted and swung my tired arms clumsily and pounded down the honeycomb of underground tunnels, I couldn't help the resentment that welled in my heart. She ran beside me, so effortless that it should've been outlawed. Her hair flowed behind her just as silky as ever, a stark contrast to the matted, damp mess at the base of my neck. Stepping as lightly as a gazelle, she breathed easily. A long inhale through the nose, a slow exhale through the mouth. Over and over again, steady as a metronome.

I clung to it, trying to find the same rhythm.

"Come on," she said sharply as we flew through an intersection. "We're almost home. Push!"

I didn't object. There was no point. I just put my head down and tried to force my heavy legs to pump faster. Hers kept pace alongside me, despite the fact that we both knew she could've left me in the dust.

But she always stayed by my side.

Finally, a cavern opened up ahead of us, its ceiling arcing high above our heads. I stumbled to a halt, resting my hands on my knees, but I didn't sit down. I knew better than that.

"Just a little more."

I nodded, following her across the cavern to where a huge boulder, well over my head, sat waiting. How she had gotten it down here, I couldn't fathom, but it had become a staple in our daily routine.

She didn't even have to tell me what to do. I squatted down, my fingers slipping against the boulder's rough surface as I tried to find a spot near its base to get a hold. When I finally did, I strained with all my might. An inhuman shriek burst past my lips, but I reveled in the fire that tore through my muscles—all the way from my fingertips, through my shoulders, down my back to my thighs to my calves.

Slowly, surely, the boulder began to tip. I leaned into it, gritting my teeth so hard that my jaw popped, and finally it flipped onto its side, rocking a bit before settling into place.

She let me pause to admire my work for a moment. "Burns, doesn't it?"

I nodded, and she returned it.

"Again."

I took a deep breath, stepped forward again, and reached down.

__________________

The hours passed. She ordered, I obeyed. And when she finally let me rest, I flopped down on the floor and propped myself against the wall. My shoulder blades and my seat bones dug into the stone, and for a moment I wished for even just a taste of comfort—a cushion to sit on, perhaps, or to wedge against my back—but we only had the essentials.

A rock for a dining table, which we sat at cross-legged on the floor every day. Bowls carved from stone, which we sipped from with no utensils. A few blankets laid on the floor, our beds.

I hadn't been comfortable in months, but I missed it less the longer I stayed. That old life had started to fade from my memory, and this was all I knew.

"Here."

I looked up as she laid two bowls on the flattest part of the table, and I scooted forward eagerly as my stomach yowled.

Grabbing the bowl, I slurped it down in three swallows. "That's it?"

She took a sip from her bowl, prim and proper. "It's just as much as yesterday."

"But it's not what we used to have."

"You're learning," she said. "Learning to live without. Learning to live with. With pain, with hunger. None of it matters. All of that is just feelings. Just feelings. You don't need to feel."

I watched her bowl as it traveled from her lips back to the table, her long fingers wrapped around its base like a spider's legs. I wanted that kind of control.

"Give me your hand."

I obeyed, and she gently grabbed my wrist, turning it up toward the light. Her eyes traced the veins there, and I clenched my fist as I studied them too. For a second they mesmerized me, and my gaze lingered on the muscles starting to become visible under my skin.

My lips twitched up.

She let me go and took another sip from her bowl, and I tried to will away the hunger pang that gurgled away in my stomach.

It was worth it. One day I would be lean and strong and graceful like her, and nothing else would matter. Not even him.

The clatter of her bowl made me look up. She crossed her legs, then her arms, and lifted her chin as she sized me up. "I think you're ready to go outside."

I stiffened, my already taxed muscles giving a small twinge. I started to shake my head. His words still echoed in the caverns of my mind: I will find you. Up there, he could keep that promise. Down here, I was safe. Hidden.

"Don't you miss the sun?" she asked.

"No. Not if it means—"

"You're going to let him take that away from you, too?" she interrupted. "Like he's taken everything else?"

I stared at my lap. "It's not that simple."

She was silent for a long while, her stare piercing me from across the table even though I refused to meet it. "What does he make you feel?" she finally asked.

My voice dropped to a whisper as I dug my fingernails into my thighs. "Everything."

I expected her to sigh, maybe roll her eyes or lament the challenge. Maybe she would tell me she couldn't help me anymore, label me a lost cause.

But she just shrugged. "What did I say when we met? You don't need to feel. So you feel everything?" She stood and collected our bowls. "Let's make you feel nothing."

__________________

The smooth metal bars of the ladder felt foreign against my calloused palms as I followed her to the surface. The higher we climbed, the thicker the air felt. I slowed as something dragged at my muscles. Exhaustion, but not necessarily a physical kind.

Below was the only safe place I'd known in over a year. Above, his promise to find me lurked like a prowling predator.

Ahead of me, an echoing clank marked the trapdoor's opening, and sunlight blinded me for a moment. Then her slender hand took mine and helped me out into the clearing, and I simply stood, breathing fresh air for the first time in months.

It was sweet. Crisp. Rejuvenating, vitalizing, energizing. But worth it?

My hands flew to my arms, fingers digging into the skin as I hugged myself. My eyes danced from place to place, never staying long in case I missed something elsewhere.

Only the forest looked back at me, trees painted varying shades of yellow and orange. A few branches had already turned bare; their leaves littered the ground at our feet. The sun filtered through the trees at the harsh angle, throwing everything into an orangey glow.

I had completely missed summer.

"See?" she said, lifting her arms in a gesture that encompassed everything. "Not so bad, right?"

I turned to her, a shiver running down my spine despite the sun. "What if he—?"

"He won't."

"How do you know?"

She held out her hand, and when I took it a smile spread across her face. "Because I'm here."

__________________

We walked for hours. The forest dimmed around us until I could barely see the trail, and when bare, craggy rocks started to replace the trees on either side of us, we finally paused.

In the last light, I craned my neck and stared up at what lay before us: A mountain, seemingly insurmountable, its snow-capped peak reflecting the last colors of the sunset.

I understood. We would climb.

"All of it?" I asked.

She nodded.

"What's at the top?"

Her laugh wafted on the breeze like a melody. "Freedom."

__________________

We set off early the next morning. I lost track of the days that followed; they blurred together in their monotony. We rose before the sun, walked until it set, and settled down to start all over again. Sometimes we ate before we slept. Sometimes we didn't. I learned to stop looking forward to the nights; resting on the hard ground left me just as stiff and sore as the constant exertion.

The interminable march slid my mind out of focus. The only things I felt were physical: Hunger, aches and pains, cramps, stitches. Various forms of discomfort. With nothing else to hold my attention, they filled me. I became them—I became something less than human, something stripped of all the things that had once made me myself.

One foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right. I was a machine. The metronome of my steps drained me until nothing existed in my place.

Snow appeared along the sides of the path, but I barely noticed. She walked by my side, but neither of us spoke. The silence, the trudge, the chill that settled into the air—it was all interminable. Pointless, with no end. No goal to work toward. Nothing to look forward to, and therefore nothing worth thinking about.

My mind was blank.

And then, one day, she stopped in broad daylight. It took me several steps before I noticed she'd dropped behind me, and I turned back with a blank stare.

"Go on," she said, nodding ahead. "That's the top."

I only blinked.

"It's beautiful," she added. "Too beautiful for the both of us."

And she gave me a gentle push.

Keep walking. It was an instinct by now, so without hesitation I climbed the last fifty yards, hardly caring when she fell out of view behind me. As I rounded the final corner and pulled myself up the final shelf of rough, snowy stone, the sun shifted from behind a cloud to blind me.

I squinted, raised one hand to block the light, and saw it: The outline of a man, his back turned as he stared at the far-off land below. My eyes traced his silhouette of their own accord.

Legs as long as a model's, thick and strong as tree trunks.

Shoulders as broad as a tank.

And, when he slowly rotated to face me, eyes bluer than the sky behind him.