The Story So Far > Chapter 30

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Chapter 30 - Daisy - Run, Girl. Run.  

I love sunrises, they’re incredible. The watercolour sky looks like it’s celebrating, no matter what the weather. Even today, when the ground is soaked from the pattering rain, and my boots slip in the inch of mud, the sunrise is still beautiful. 

Mud is a strange thing. Much like flour and glitter, it can sneak all over your body like a sentient being, never staying on your feet. It climbs up the hem of your dress, splodging on your knees and swiping your cheekbone. It’s ingrained under your nails and deep into the bloody crevices of your palms. 

Mud makes everything dirty.

I’m already soiled though. It’s hard to care. I slam the last of it down with a sigh and pull my spade into my aching arms. I’m nearly finished, I realise as my muscles scream. I know my limits and I’m hitting them. 

The rain slides down my scratched and grazed skin, a cooling soothe to the dull pain. I’m not worried about my skin so much. My right ribcage though is screaming with every breath or movement. Everything took longer because of it. 

I shift the spade into my other hand and double over in the searing agony that bursts through my body. 

“Fuck!” I shout into the echoey forest. No-one is around for miles. Thankfully. Gratefully. I wince as I straighten, realising only now that I have to leave the spade. I can’t carry it anymore, my fingers won’t close around the handle, and dragging it would only make it worse. I’ll come back for it later. It falls with a wet squelch to the forest floor and I continue on my way back to the van. 

Rain plasters my long hair to my face and neck, my dress sodden and heavy as my bones. My footsteps get heavier and heavier as I walk. My exhaustion settling into my very soul as I lean a shoulder against the nearest tree. The pressure reveals yet another bruise to me and I hiss through my teeth. 

I might actually need medical attention this time. I’ve never needed medical attention. Then again I’ve never attacked someone without preparation before. 

Pushing myself off the tree, I scrape through the deepening mud one foot after the other. Trudging desperately forwards. My knees threaten to buckle, and more than once, my palm lands in the undergrowth to catch my fall. Each time, I brush the twigs and pebbles from my already bloodied and bruised hands and push myself to my feet. 

To stop here is to die here on a day like this. 

One step at a time. One step at a- 

“Daisy?” A voice calls, lifting over the patter of rain on leaves. “Daisy!” 

Cole. I half wonder if I’m hallucinating. How could he know I was here? That I needed someone right now. 

I give a dry sob and shout back, “Here! I’m here!” 

The rustle of his body disturbing the forest gets louder and I lean once again against an oak as I wait for him to close his arms around me. His footsteps are uneven, and by the time he comes into view, I’ve let my exhaustion wash over me like a blanket.

His footsteps halt some way from me, I don’t even realise I’ve closed my eyes until I have to peel them open to see him. 

It’s my Cole. But it’s not. He’s cold, callous and bitter looking. There’s a tightness to his chin as he looks at me, his lips pressed into a thin line, his chin the perfect military right angle from his body. 

But it’s his eyes, his soft, simple eyes that shock me the most. They are laced with hate. 

He didn’t look at me like that, even when I admitted I was the Heartbreaker. 

I might be the murderer here but right now, I’m the one in trouble. Instinct takes over, I need to not show how weak I am right now. 

Without the ability to push myself off the tree at the moment, I straighten. Leaning an elbow on the gristly trunk and schooling my face into a smirk. 

“What a pleasant surprise,” I purr. “How did you find me?” 

Cole’s feet dig into the undergrowth, perching on the leaf strewn moss as the look of disdain hardens on his face. “I have a tracker in your phone.” 

I let my smirk widen, the movement pulling at an injury I wasn’t aware of on my eyebrows- I vaguely recall being scratched there at some point. God, I must look a mess. “Keeping tabs on me, baby?” I coo. 

“Don’t call me that,” he snaps. Once again, I see the dominant side to Cole. God, I love that. Hope he calls me a good girl again.

“No? I seem to remember you liked me calling you ‘sir’, Cole. Should I try that?” I haven’t got a clue why I’m scratching at him like this, he’s obviously already raw. But I’m really doing everything in my power to delay the inevitable. 

Cole’s hands go to his belt, his holster. Not where I want them. “Daisy Rayne-” Shit. Not the full name.  “Put your hands where I can-” Cole flicks the popper on his holster.

Time’s up. 

I turn and flee. 

My body screams in pure agony, desperate evil pain coursing through my muscles. My chest constricted by whatever I’ve done to my ribcage. I brace it with a hand as I stumble over the undergrowth. 

Cole’s going to be faster than me. 

He’s going to catch me. And something tells me this isn’t an ‘if I catch you I fuck you’ situation- although I really wish it were. 

One day. One day he’ll chase me for real. 

Using my knowledge of the terrain to my advantage I change coarse, padding over soft, soundless moss as his thundering footsteps get closer. 

I duck under the large fern leaves and lie there as he ploughs past, catching glimpse of his hiking boots as he hunts for me. 

I’d be lying if I said this wasn't a little bit of a turn on. 

I wait for his footsteps to disappear for a good while before I crawl out, my poor lilac cocktail dress catching on a rock and tearing. I gulp my cry of pain as the rock tears into my skin as well before I get myself free and wait for any sign that Cole is returning. 

My protesting muscles pull me once again to my feet and I hobble my way to the stream. I’m already soaked and it’s the only way to ensure he can’t track me. 

“Daisy!” His voice sounds far, but not far enough. “Daisy, it’s dangerous out here.” 

He’s not wrong, the sky is darkening as the rain begins to intensify, and the morning light starts to look a lot more like evening.

“Come out, love. Let’s talk about it.” 

My footsteps hesitate, I want to believe him. I really do. But he was about to pull a gun on me. That’s so much worse than handcuffs. 

I push on, every step slipping further into the mud, the sneakers I keep in the van now mostly mud and twigs. I can’t hear Cole, whether he calls or not. But as I stumble towards the hush of the river, I feel a sense of elation. 

I step into the gentle current, and instantly feel colder the moment I touch the water. I would rather go upstream, it seems the safer bet, but without much of my muscle strength I walk the opposite direction. The flow of the water pushes me forwards, a welcome act of control. My left hand puts pressure on my now agonising ribcage as I walk. 

My ears are on full sensitivity, listening for any twigs snapping, any calls of my name, anything. But with the falling rain and the rushing water, I can’t make out anything. 

Which proves to be my downfall. 

Out of nowhere, Cole slams into me, tackling me to the ground, the damp scent of him filling my nose. His hair drips into his furious eyes as he pins me to the forest floor. His hard, unforgiving body pushing my suffering into the mud and rocks beneath. He straddles my chest and my ribs scream in protest, I lift my hands to push him off me, but he grabs my wrists and pins them over my head. 

“Cole!” I shout, my words twinging with pain.

I close my eyes and it’s so easy to forget that he hates me. The full delicious feeling of his muscles, the strength of him exaggerated so much by my current weakness. His thighs tightening around me, as I writhe in the undergrowth. 

His breath heats my freezing earlobe as he leans close to whisper. 

“I told you I’d catch you.”