The Inmate

by Freida McFadden

I run out onto the flooded road, grateful that my hours of cheerleading practice have kept me fit and nimble. Of course, Shane is pretty damn fit too. He’s a quarterback. And his legs are a lot longer than mine. All I’ve got going for me is a head start and the fact that nobody has elbowed me hard in the testicles. “Brooke!” I hear my name called out from somewhere behind me. Or maybe I’m just imagining it. Maybe it’s the wind. But I have to believe he’s close behind me. He can’t let me leave. If I live, I’ll tell everyone what he’s done. “Brooke!” Tears are streaming down my cheeks. My feet are numb from the ice-cold water, but I’ve got to keep going. This is my only chance. I’ve got to live. “Broo—” And then I see it. A set of headlights in the distance. It looks like a pickup truck. Under ordinary circumstances, it’s the kind of vehicle I would keep my distance from late at night because you never know what kind of axe murderer is driving, but right now, it’s my only chance. I run toward the truck, waving my hands in the air. “Stop!” I scream. “Help me!” Thank God, the truck stops, and the night doesn’t end with me being hit and killed by a pickup truck. I hazard a look behind me, but there’s nobody there. I’m not sure Shane was ever following me in the first place, but if he was, he’s gone now.