Chapter 7 - Freefall into Reality
The sensation of weightlessness lasted only a fraction of a second before gravity reclaimed her with a vengeance. Clara tucked her chin into her chest, wrapping her arms completely around Maya and the thick pink blanket to form a human cocoon as she dropped toward the soft mulch beds flanking the back patio.
She hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind completely out of her lungs in a sharp, painful gasp. Her shoulder and hip absorbed the brunt of the collision, sending a jagged spike of agony shooting up her spine. Yet, even as she rolled into the dirt, her primary instinct never wavered—her arms remained locked around Maya like steel bands.
A soft, startled cry escaped the baby’s lips, followed immediately by a healthy, furious wail that was the sweetest sound Clara had ever heard. Maya was alive, unharmed, and breathing.
Clara scrambled to her feet on trembling, bruised legs, ignoring the sharp rocks cutting into the soles of her bare feet. Dirt smeared across the light pink silk of her robe, tearing the delicate fabric at the shoulder. She bolted across the manicured lawn, keeping low near the tall boxwood hedges that lined the property boundary, heading straight toward the dense treeline that led to the neighboring subdivision.
From the shattered second-floor bathroom window above, Marcus leaned out, his face pale with fury. He shouted something unintelligible, but he didn't follow her out the window; the drop was too steep for a clean pursuit without risking a broken leg. Instead, Clara heard the heavy pounding of his boots as he raced back through the house to cut her off from the front driveway.
Adrenaline surged through Clara’s veins, dulling the pain in her battered body. She plunged into the thicket of pine trees and overgrown brush, the sharp branches whipping against her face and tearing at her hair until the neat bun came undone completely, letting her long dark hair stream out behind her like a dark banner.
The woods were damp and smelled of decaying leaves and pine needles. Clara’s bare feet sank into the cold mud, but she didn't slow down. She pushed deeper into the foliage, navigating the familiar terrain of her childhood neighborhood with the desperate intuition of a hunted animal.
After ten agonizing minutes of sprinting through the underbrush, she emerged onto the paved asphalt of a quiet cul-de-sac three blocks away from her house. Panting heavily, her chest heaving as she tried to drag oxygen into her burning lungs, she ducked behind the brick pillar of a stranger’s driveway entrance.
She looked down at Maya. The baby had quieted down, sucking placidly on her own thumb beneath the folds of the pink blanket, completely unaware of the harrowing escape they had just survived.
Clara pulled her phone from the deep pocket of her robe, her fingers trembling so badly she dropped it twice against the concrete before managing to unlock the screen. Her battery was at four percent.
With shaking thumbs, she dialed a number she hadn't called in three years—the personal cell phone of David, the man her mother had paid to disappear. The phone rang once, twice, three times, going straight to a generic voicemail box.
“Pick up, please, please pick up,” Clara sobbed under her breath as the automated voice chimed on the line.
May you like
Just as the call was about to disconnect, the line clicked, and a deep, groggy voice answered from the other end. “Hello? Who is this?”
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