Page 1 of Savior

PROLOGUE

In my mind there are several doors. Some hold memories, some hold dreams, but for me, one is locked, dead-bolted, and chained. It is a red door, a faded red, scratched and scarred, the wood of it damaged and decayed.

In a vague, disconnected way, I knew what must have been behind the door, but my mind shied away from letting me linger on it.

Memories are strange things. Easily changed, swiftly molded away from the truth.

Mine were stranger than most.

There was water nearby. I could hear the gentle rush of a stream somewhere ahead of me. I made my way toward it, though I had no notion of where I was heading.

I just needed to get away.

Anything to get away.

I’d rather the water took me than be caught again.

An acrid taste clung to the back of my tongue. I swallowed against it and kept running.

I’d been running through the woods for a very long time. Long enough that the bottom of my feet were worn bloody, leaving a trail behind me that I could not hide.

It was bright out now, sun streaming through the trees overhead.

When I’d started running it had been pitch black.

It gave me some hope that I’d gotten so far without being caught.

When I finally reached the water, I did not hesitate, did not think. I hit it at a run, getting maybe a quarter of the way across before the water swept me off my feet.

The current was strong, but the water was very shallow, and my back scraped against the rocks along the riverbed even as my face managed to stay above the surface.

I didn’t fight it. I let the water take me where it would, staring up at the blue sky while it carried me swiftly away from my nightmares.

I drifted that way for quite some time, the sun moving directly above me as I was dragged along, my mind curiously blank, as though the water was washing away my memories of the last three days.

I let it wash them clean. Welcomed it.

When the current slowed, I caught at the bank and dragged myself from the water. My arms shook too badly to hold me at first. I collapsed in mud and dead grass, breathing into the earth until the world stopped moving.

There was a road above me.

I knew it was a road because a car passed, tires humming against pavement. Then another. Neither slowed. I tried to stand and could not.

My hand closed around something hard in the mud.

I remember that clearly. Or I think I do.

It was small enough to fit in my palm and warm in spite of the water. There was something thin wound around it, wet and rough against my fingers. I held it tight for a moment, though I did not know what it was or why I had it.

I managed to drag myself to my feet.

A horn sounded.

I startled, and my hand was empty. I had dropped it. Maybe.

Maybe there had never been anything in my hand.

There was a blood-curdling scream.