My head...

Something vibrates below me, occasionally jerking me up forwards to bounce back onto the ground. Opening my eyes does nothing as the place is darker than hell.

Where am I? Or where am I going?

My hearing pops into place to bring engine noises him to life. Whatever I'm in, has my hands trapped behind me, but it feels like my hands are also tied together. My feet seem to be bound as well.

Who did I piss off this much?

Trying to roll around proves useless as the space is too small for me to go far, and it hurts me worse as the car hits a bump and I slam my shoulder into the top.

Only one of those things cracked and it wasn't the box.

A low groan sinks out of me as I close my eyes, avoiding thinking about how bad this might've just been. I can't even tell what it was that cracked. It takes a few moments before I can even breath again, but things get hard when... Well, when I start thinking.

The walls around me suddenly seem so much smaller than what they were. My breathing tactics begins to falter as I can feel my chest struggling. Whereas I had thought that I had gotten over my claustrophobia years ago, apparently it's coming back.

I can't... don't pass out. It's just your imagination. Snap out of it Lily.

Not even my mental bickering could keep it. The air in the crate was dull and thick, the walls much too close. I was out like a light.

——————————

"Dump her here. We don't need her wakin up on us." The voice immediately comes into the clear as adrenaline begins to pump. The ringing noise in my head slowly dulls out before I slowly begin to try and peek open my eyes.

    "Sir." I feel myself being lifted and immediately close my eyes again. The smell of cologne hits me, my gag reflex threatening to give me away, but I bite my tongue and force myself to be quiet.

That plan goes out the window the second they throw me. My eyes open wide as I start to try and grab my bearings. Lucky for me, my reflexes had time to reload in the short amount of time I've been awake. My head goes backwards to turn into a flip - but I'm much closer to the ground than I realized.

My hands fly out to push me back up and I manage to stagger only slightly as my feet squish the ground below me.

"Uh, sir!" The one that's closest, the one that probably threw me, shouts in alarm as he stumbles back and falls into a pickup. "Go!!" The truck starts up and I push myself forwards.

I can't-

I can't let them get away. Not whenever I don't recognize my surroundings.

"Faster!" The man calls as I manage to grab hold of the tailgate and push myself onto the back, but it makes things harder whenever a foot sails towards my head. The truck is speeding along faster than what I can even guess at the moment as I duck back behind the tailgate.

It doesn't take him long to grab a gun, and with that versus the moving car, my advantage of close combat training falls out the window. He aims the pistol and fires.

And fires.

And fires.

The first one hit my shoulder, but I could manage - still had another hand and I was getting desperate. That was my mistake. The second got my arm as I tried to climb in, but I could still make it. An arm and a shoulder are both very important things, but I can still climb.

The third hit my side. The one that shocked me enough to release my hold. While the truck is speeding along, I'm sent flying off the back of it and tumbling into the dirt.

The first thing to impact was my head. My vision blurred and my eyes felt like they crossed, but for a second, it was like bliss. There isn't any pain, there isn't any worry, there is just a calm, peaceful silence. Then it crashed and I'm aware that I'm going headfirst off the road.

My hand tries to grab something, however, the dirt isn't packed enough to be steady and I simply slide. My feet slam into the ground as I slowly come to a stop hanging off the little into the ditch.

They got away.

Dust has coated my eyelashes, and when I got to wipe it off I smear something warm across my face. I immediately close my eye and use the other one to look at my hand. The blood is dark, and it's coming fast.

Minimize movement, and tie it off.

I look at the bottom of my jeans and curse as I'm going to have to use both hands to rip a section off of them. Moving my arm is becoming increasingly more and more difficult as I tear off the bottoms. Thankfully, my dominate hand isn't hurt, so this is made much easier as I make a knot and pull it tight.

Tears threaten me while I feel the throbbing of my heart, realizing something that is a much bigger issue as I look down. My breathing isn't an issue because of the pain, it's an issue because my lung was hit.

   "Shit." I whimper and out my hand on the wound for pressure.

Without someone driving by, they might actually get away with killing me for once. I'd be proud if it didn't mean I was dead.

Pulling myself to my feet, I check my surroundings carefully. The way they went was the same way they came, I can tell by the tracks, meaning that's the direction of my home. But I don't know how long they drove to get me here, so that's a low chance.

However, this path seems to be well traveled, there are several different types of wheels imprinted into the dirt.

Maybe I'll get lucky?

The thought makes me smile as I start down the opposite way they went, following my gut as I have plenty of times before.

Yeah, right. Because all my life I've been able to rely on luck. Skill is what keeps you alive, and skill will be what saves you.

It takes me a second, but I find a possible assist as I narrow in on some sort of gypsy cottage. But I know she's a fake the second I start getting closer. The signs are brightly painted to draw attention, there's obvious machinery from this angle as I can see the generators, and she's with a couple right now - so all of those are going off.

I shake my head and start to turn whenever I spot something important: Yarrow. She probably planted it to keep her cottage looking fancy, in fact, she probably knows or made up random facts about it to impress. Right now, I'm just glad that I saw it.

Yarrow leaves can at least slow the bleeding, I've only ever used it on small cuts, but surely...

Her back is to me, and the couple is too enthralled in the light show to look out the window mostly hidden by a thick curtain. I hobble over as fast as I can and kneel down.

They feel wet, so I don't have to find water, thankfully.

I pull the leaves off and begin to crush them together in my hand, making sure that they're actually gonna be able to at least try and help. It doesn't take me long to smell the rosemary type of scent that comes from crushing them. Before I apply the leaves to my side/stomach area where the bullet went through, I chew on them to crush them better.

As soon as I apply it I can feel the pain slowly lessening, so of course I keep going. I manage to apply the leaves to all the wounds, front and back on my arm and shoulder, before they seem to have even reached the climax of the show inside. I don't want to stand up in direct line of sight of the window again, but I pull more than I need to shove into my pockets just in case before going back to the road.

About an hour and a half later, I come to a town. It looks relatively small compared to what I'm used to, but I know that it's probably larger than what I'm thinking.

With my clothes bloodied and dirt covered, there's no way I'm going to be able to get anywhere without the cops. Who knows how many of those are paid off anyways, so...

I step off the path as I take a second to try and look for a clothes store or something. If I look pitiful enough, there's a chance they'll give me the scraps of something - or an item that hasn't sold a lot, perhaps.

I land on a dry cleaners and stiffen, there's no way I could make it in there. Those workers would be on me the second they saw me. But...

I can't see any other options.

I bite my tongue and try to look around more, desperate for anything besides what I'm seeing, and see someone leaning against the wall in the back alley. They have a shopping cart with them. A shopping cart... with clothes.

Homeless, so this is either gonna go well or horrible depending.

I start over with my jaw set as I straighten my back and put my injured hand in my pocket. When I'm about halfway there, I remember the knot I ripped from my pants and quickly undo it. This at least draws less attention, but the blood on my clothes won't help anything.

I get maybe ten feet away and the woman stirs. I freeze instantly, knowing that I've paled as she opens her eyes. And they widen.

"Are you alright, Child?" Her accent assures me I'm at least in Canada, which doesn't help the sinking feeling in my gut.

Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.

    "I-" My voice falters as I realize that I didn't come up with a story. "I'm looking for clothes, and since you're in the alleyway of the dry cleaners, I was wondering if you knew them?" My words come out more as a question that I had meant, but by using the truth to try and gain her trust I think I'm fine.

    "Oh, come 'ere, Child. I have something that might fit you." She waves me over as she pushes herself to her feet and starts shifting through her shopping cart. I hesitate.

On one hand, she's probably trying to help me. On the other, she's just moved herself out of my view and wants me closer. Shanked or in cuffs.

I let out a sigh as I walk over with my best 'totally not barely stopping myself from bleeding out' walk and come up to her side a couple steps away.

I'd rather someone try to shank me.

To my paranoia's surprise, she didn't come back out with a knife of some sort. Instead, it's an outfit that looks like it hasn't been touched by even a spec of dirt.

It's a light blue shirt with sleeves that go down to mid arm, a dark blue vest that looks like it'll go to maybe my mid stomach, dark grey pants, and black boots. She digs for a moment more before coming up with long socks.

"This was given to me a while back, I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it, but now it seems like I have an answer." She smiles as she holds it out.

"That's... that's not what I was expecting, if I'm honest." I chuckle faintly as I start to move my hand out to grab it - then stop and just use the one I have. "Thank you, Ma'am."

"Please, just call me Becca." She beams at me before the look of worry crosses her face. "Child... is that blood?"

Immediately, I tense up and start to back away. She sees and holds up her hands as she shakes her head.

"I won't hurt you, but that should probably be looked at... that's a lot of blood." Her worry makes me feel bad as I close my eyes and shake my head. "We need to call the cops-"

"Stop." I sound like I'm begging, and I hate it. I stand up again and look at her, "I have this handled. Thank you for the clothes."

And with that, I turn on my heel and start back toward the woods. But I heard it. The phone.

"There's a child, and I think she's bleeding horribly, please, we're at-"

I stop listening as I take off at a dead run.