Bree POV
I knew the doctor knew I was lying, but thankfully he didn't push the issue. 3 scans and a hefty dose of painkillers later, and I was feeling much better. My wrist and 3 of my ribs were broken. I had a concussion, and they'd stitched up the cut on the edge of my hairline. I'd been informed by the nice doctor that they needed to keep me in overnight (or at least, what was left of it). I wasn't too bothered by this; I'd expected it. And to be quite honest, I was enjoying the prospect of a night in a relatively comfortable bed, dosed up on painkillers, and without the threat of violent interruption. This was going to be the best nights' sleep I'd had in months.
The night turned into morning, and after a few more bouts of questioning from hospital staff with pity written all over their faces, I was eventually freed from the hospital. A nurse walked over to me with the discharge papers to sign.
"Please don't go back there" She said, pained. I looked at her. "Don't put yourself in unnecessary danger. I get that you're not going to tell us the truth, but at least do that for us. Don't go back." She begged.
I pondered her words as I took my papers and prescription, and walked out of the hospital to the mid-day gloom of an overcast day. I found my car and plopped into the front seat, the nurse's words still running through my head. I guess I could run from home. I had a few hours' head start before my father realised I wasn't coming back from school.
But where would I go? I had no money, no clothes, no food, and not even a phone. I didn't know this state at all. How long could I really survive? Could I really hide from my father? I realised my best bet was to get myself to a more densely populated city, and perhaps I'd be able to find somewhere that would take me in. Seattle was closest, if I left now I'd make it there by nightfall. Decision somewhat rashly made, I turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the hospital parking lot.
My car ran out of gas a few miles short of downtown Seattle. Cursing my luck, I shut off the engine, and pondered my options. It was late afternoon, I could try to hitchhike into the city? Or I could walk. Either way, I probably couldn't stay here, in my now useless car on the side of the highway.
It was dark by the time I made it to the city centre. Hitchhiking had been a bust, so I'd walked the whole way, though I had to stop every few hundred metres to catch my breath. I was cold, starving, and exhausted, but I didn't see any way to rectify any of those problems. I sat down in an alley to shelter from the wind and contemplated my life. What on earth was I going to do? Why did I think this was a good idea? How could I, a tiny, malnourished and injured 15-year-old, survive by myself with no money, phone, clothes or food, in a giant city?
As I sat despairing at my situation, I heard voices at the other end of the alley. A man and a woman. I shrank back, further into the shadows in the hope they'd leave me alone, but some footsteps came down the alley. I sighed, resigned to whatever fate beheld me now. I'd already been abused in every way possible by my own father, so there was nothing more these people could do to me. Weirdly, that gave me some confidence. I didn't need to be scared, I knew what the worst was, and it didn't scare me anymore. Some small, rational part of my brain knew that this didn't make any sense given I'd literally run away out of fear, but hey, who cared anymore.
"Hey!" a light, friendly voice close to my face made me jump. The voice belonged to a handsome blond man, maybe in his late teens or early twenties. He smiled at me with perfect, gleaming white teeth, and held out a hand. "You look cold and hungry. Can I buy you a burger?" he asked, smiling apologetically.
I looked him up and down once over. He seemed harmless. And I was starving. What harm could it do? What was the worst that could happen? I needed food from somewhere and this was way better than scavenging through bins.
"Sure" I replied weakly, and accepted his hand up. We walked to the end of the alleyway, then something moved fast with a flash of red past me, and my arm began to burn. I stumbled to the floor as the flames took over my body, and squirmed in agony. Through the pain, I almost felt like laughing. "What's the worst that could happen?" I had thought, mere moments earlier. I'd come to Seattle to escape death and seemed to have found in in the first few hours I'd been here. Well, my life had been short, and most certainly not sweet. Maybe it was for the best that it was over. I just wished the fire would hurry up and kill me. Had I not had enough torture in my short life?