End of Summer 2017.

Call it a hunch, but I knew today was going to end like this.

I glance at the full swing night letting the mild warning sink into Deja Vu. No more than five minutes after finishing up that long crappy shift and here I am. And I *knew* this would happen.

I'm being followed.

'Why, why did I basically walk straight into danger?'

Typically, I take the bus home, but I got off later than usual– just missed it. I would have had to sit around for 'who knows how long' for the next one.

'Ugh Ashlen,' I berate myself internally, 'why didn't you ask for a ride or just suck it up? Anything that wasn't so stupid!'

It's almost as stupid as the hunch I had about my dream job– moved miles away from home only to get laid off three months later. I'm still bitter about it. And maybe that's when everything started going down the toilet. Ever since I ignored that bit of intuition.

That's all I've been getting– Bad hunches, bad luck and I'm really sick of it. I am also getting kicked out of my apartment this Friday or rather, my eviction notice, another hunch. My paycheck at the diner hasn't been cutting it, so it's not surprising but certainly upsetting.

Maybe that's why I snapped– working like a dog for months only to get a pay stub that doesn't make a dent. The hunch needling me for the last hours of my shift seemed less pressing. I wanted to walk away from it all, possibly this was my subconscious protest, a self-destructive one. Now, I'm seriously regretting my momentary lapse of judgment.

I have not one but three men following me.

Reaching into my half apron pocket, I blindly feel around for my phone. The screen doesn't light up when I thumb the power button and I want to smack myself. What a day to drain my battery dry. Blasting my music at work, even though I'm technically not supposed to listen to anything but the customers. This is either Murphy's law or cruel karma for breaking workplace rules.

The thought of work has my face scrunching up in frustration. My coworker, Sarah, walks home alone all the time and is just fine, but I disregard one bad feeling and everything falls apart. I take a few turns that are not my usual route home, in hopes that it's coincidence.

'They're just headed in my direction, the hunch is wrong,' I try to reassure myself I'm overreacting.

Nope, panic rises higher into my throat with each turn I take. They're still tailing me.

I palm the glass pendant on my necklace, a gift I received from actually listening to my intuition. A priest gave it to me when I followed the hunch to a church last month– I was desperate enough to wander inside thanks to my bout of rotten luck. The long chain strains as I anxiously pull at it, water inside the sphere swishing as I pick up the pace.

He told me it was "for my protection". I clutch the ball and scowl at it. It's beautiful but doesn't seem to be doing a great job "protecting" me.

'Ok, I'm definitely screwed.'

Shoving down the panic, I scramble for ideas to get out of this. With a secret glance, I analyze the group, careful not to turn completely– it won't do me any favors to advertise my unease.

Two of the men are chatting with each other as they follow. Actually, one seems to be doing all the talking, while the other periodically acknowledges him rather than adding to the conversation. The third is lagging farther behind. I wasn't sure if he was a part of the group at first but my few random turns have ruled that out.

The chatty one's baritone carries, though they're far enough away that I can't make out the details. He sounds oddly carefree but I could see the man being intimidating– he's built like a professional wrestler.

I reach the outskirts of the city and things are looking pretty dismal. The podunk diner is far behind me now, and the few other stores I've come across are closed. There's no chance of me taking refuge in one of them. As the buildings become more sparse, so do the houses. They're spread thin with the forest on the opposite side thickening the farther I go.

'Great! How did I get here? This area doesn't look familiar at all, not to mention deserted!'

A ranch house pokes into view and I head for it, planning to walk in as if I own it. I'll take a working phone or any help at this point.

'There's no one home, the doors are locked.'

Like a voice of reason the hunch wells inside me. As if I checked the front door myself, I'm certain of it.

I contemplate my success in busting one of the darkened windows with a rock when a crazy counter thought bubbles up in my brain.

'Leave the road now. Go into the forest.'

That sounds almost as terrible as the rock plan. Well, if it were an idea I wouldn't pay it any mind, but it's "the hunch". I didn't heed my intuition back at the diner and, as illogical as this seems, it may be my best shot out of this.

Swirling with inner debate, I make the unconscious mistake of a backward glance. The talkative one and I lock eyes.

"Where ya 'eaded, sweethear'?" he calls out with a chuckle, "I's naw safe ta be wanderin' alone ou' 'ere."

Casual and a little suggestive. Under other circumstances, I probably wouldn't suspect this guy of malice. His accent is strange, like a mash-up of different regions.

And just like a rabbit, I get the sudden urge to flee. I lose my cool. Eyes darting for the trees, I sprint for my life, hearing an eruption of laughter following after me.

"Come on, honey, where do you think you're going?"

This jeering voice is less discreet, devious intentions emanate from the undertones. Horrible images flood my mind of what they could possibly want with me. It gives me a boost to my speed and I lunge into the off-road brush.

I'm crashing through the forest. The low tree limbs and overgrown shrubs seem to reach for me like the hooked fingers of demons and imps conspiring to pull me back. My ponytail rubber band catches on something and snaps. Bushes swat and slash, I rip my way through. The aggressive branches claw from all sides, twisting up in my free mane of hair. The terrifying thought of them catching up numbs the pain. I sprint full force ahead, praying not to trip on the uneven ground.

Air stings my dry throat as I gulp it down, the ground whizzes past. Adrenaline propels me forward when I otherwise would have collapsed breathless.

They're gaining on me, my stalkers are catching up and they're barely making a sound. No feet pounding after me, no crashing through trees. Only their eerily close chatter.

Sensing their proximity, my heart flutters, trying to beat its way out of my ribcage. I can't seem to get enough air with each erratic suck. I start to wish I'd never left my family and friends back home.

Maybe I'll never see them again.

I blink out the tears creeping into my eyes and keep going. I can't give up. I need to push myself to run even faster, just a little further. My lungs feel like they're going to burst.

"She's getting too close to the edge," a voice just behind me warns his friends, "Stop fooling around before we lose her."

Startled by how close he is, I urge myself to go impossibly faster.

It's too late, my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach as I'm abruptly grabbed by the arm. I lose my balance and expect to crash to the ground with the attacker, but he catches me like I weigh that of a feather. Even my momentum doesn't seem to hinder him.

A hand slaps over my incredibly short-lived scream. I flail, kicking and swinging my free arm around wildly. He applies more pressure, it's like I'm battling an increase in gravity.

"A fighta', are ya, love?"

My eyes snap forward to see that talkative, built one leisurely standing in front. He says this all so casually like we're chatting over tea, doesn't seem out of breath in the slightest.

'They're going to hurt me.'

I squirm harder.

'Violate me.'

I shriek into his palm, try to bite it. Throwing myself around like an insane person, fighting his every move.

'Murder me!''

It's useless. I accomplish absolutely nothing but thoroughly annoying my captor.

"This is going to be very unpleasant for you if you don't settle the fuck down!" he hisses in my ear.

His tone sets off every alarm bell. I freeze.

Complying seems best, for now, and struggling doesn't seem to have any effect on him anyhow. I force myself to relax, showing my submission with a heavy breath under his palm from over-exertion. I'll need to outwit them or take them off guard if I can manage it.

"Wise decision," he says coldly, removing his hand from my mouth and placing it on my free shoulder.

'Great… Now he has a better grip on each side. I hope cooperating was the right choice.'

"This is too far…"

I glance over, matching the utterance of chagrin to the one I believe was lagging behind in the group. He's standing away from us even now. The man is shadowed beneath a squiggly tree, leaning conflicted against it with arms folded.

He looks young, not as robust as the gabby one but fit. Though it's dim, I can't help but notice he's actually very good-looking. They all are, which only adds to my confusion.

'They aren't scummy looking or desperate or visibly drunk. So why?'

I ponder their supposed motives to myself, bouncing my eyes from each of them, lastly to the one keeping me captive.

A chill runs down my spine as I look up to catch him staring right back.

I let out a small gasp. His wild gray eyes are burning holes into my sockets. I want to turn away but I'm too afraid to take my gaze off his as if he'll surely kill me then and there.

He smirks slightly, eyes narrowing as he shakes disheveled pieces of blonde hair from his brow. The rest is tied back unlike mine– stupid forest stole my hair-tie.

I break into a cold sweat as his gaze makes its way down, returning in a slow elevator sweep as they reach my thighs. That look makes all the warmth flee. And he seems to be enjoying my obvious terror.

"Aww, come on Sammy, lighten up. I's nothin' personal, ya kno' tha'," I overhear the brawny one try to cheer up the guy by the tree as if nothing's wrong.

'Just a normal situation, grabbing and terrorizing a girl in the woods… Yeah, everyday stuff,' I think sarcastically. They continue their back and forth as my eyes flick around, frantically searching for a way to escape. There's nothing, just damn forest.

I recircle all directions in vain, looking for a thing that doesn't seem to be here, needing it to magically appear and save me. But it's just trees, and bushes, and dirt.

'Wait a second… bushes.'

Another pang of intuition shoots into my brain as if it were common knowledge.

I don't know why and it doesn't make sense at all but I need to cross the bushes over my shoulder. From what I can see in the sliver of moon, they're nothing special. Pine-like with a few wild berries. Fairly ordinary other than the sharp herb smell.

Then I notice it. These were intentionally planted more or less in a line, almost like a barrier or a wall.

I'm jerk out of my observation as my captor suspiciously examines those same bushes. He makes a short laugh in his throat.

"Closer than I thought," he mutters to himself.

Hunch confirmed, there is something in that direction. But could safety be so easy as crossing over? It's probably wishful thinking. One thing's for certain, I'm definitely not safe here. I'm feeling more at risk by the second. Especially since the blonde one is back to looking me over as if he wants to devour me.

He clutches me possessively and though the guy doesn't fidget much, his restless tension is clear. The grip on my arm is painfully tight, almost cutting off circulation.

I follow his side glance to his bickering friends. He must be waiting for the go ahead to finish whatever they have planned. But I haven't been focusing on the argument, I've been doing a little planning of my own, waiting for the right moment.

With an impatient breath, my captor turns his face away, about to join the spat. Granting my chance.

Aiming for the sweet spot, I wind back and give him a whammy kick.

He spins me around lightning fast before I can lurch away, burrowing his horrible stare into mine once more.

'Well shit, that was a bad move.'

They're scarier this time as if I'm looking into the eyes of the devil himself. Not only did I fail to escape, my intentions did not fly over his head. Reading my expression, his face twists up with rancor.

"You're not as smart as I thought."

He throws me down hard on my back. My vision cuts as my head hits the unforgiving dirt. I hear the dull thud in my ears, a headache swallows my skull. I wince as my body follows, shooting pain into my shoulder blade and middle back.

I don't even have time to move, he's already on top, pinning my wrists to the ground. I rapidly blink the double vision away.

As my eyes refocus, I notice him blatantly staring at my cleavage. My damn work shirt, one of those three button V necks but no one ever buttons more than one.

I really wish I *had* buttoned it up to my neck at this point. My heart speeds up as the situation goes from awful to much, much worse.

"Wait," I utter weakly, choking on the fear.

His fierce irises move up to meet mine, showing that he heard but otherwise ignoring the plea. He focuses back on my heaving chest. Releases one trembling wrist. Reaches for a loose piece of tousled hair near my jaw.

My eyes widen, I can feel a horrified expression stretching across my face. His icy fingers make their way down from neck to collarbone.

"No, STOP!"

I pry his hand before he can go any further. It doesn't budge. I let out a pathetic battle screech and flail around. Nails scratching, pulling. Trying to wiggle out from under him. It's like hitting a massive rock, entirely hopeless.

Then I'm struck, a flash of white and my head snaps to the side with a sharp exhale. Open-handed but the force is unbelievable like a full-fist punch to the face.

The whole side of my face is numb, temples throbbing. He grabs my cheeks, squeezing them, coaxing me to look into his evil gaze.

I'm dazed, vision spotty but those eyes burn into mine just like before, getting progressively more alarming and irate.

I weakly tug at his hand, not in my right mind.

He backhands me again, it's instantaneous. I feel my lip split. Blood and spit fly to the side as the air rushes out of my lungs. I take a long ragged breath, trying to stay conscious. My cheek feels puffy from a massive welt forming.

He pinches my tender face again and jerks me to him. Everything is blurry.

Apparently the other two stopped arguing. I hear a deep voice appeal to the enraged man on top of me.

"Now, now Derek, dere's no need fer tha'."

Seems the one called Derek won't be reasoned with. His crazed eyes widen, clenched teeth stretching into a tight-lipped smile. The hand gripping my jaw compressing in.

I grunt at the pain and latch my free hand to his arm, digging my nails in. It doesn't faze him at all. He looks insane, that hand is convulsing against my face.

My ears start to ring, I feel light-headed but fight to stay alert. I hear muffled chatter yet can't make it out.

Without a change in his expression, Derek rips his fingers roughly from my face. He shakes with soundless laughter. This psychopath is riveted by my agony and helplessness.

'Is that it? Are they looking for someone torture?' A flare of anger overpowers my disorientation. His deranged smile is pissing me off.

'Why me? Why did they come after me? Screw them. Screw everything. Screw you, Derek!'

I'm ready to round on him. My brow furrows until it's scrunching my nose. I hack up my salt tasting anger and aggressively spit in his face.

Bloodied saliva splats on his cheek. At the sound my face slackens with instant regret. Tonight has been full of crappy decisions, but this one is probably my worst yet.

He doesn't flinch, completely still like a statue. Then his expression slowly contorts in a full barring of grinding teeth.

That face continues to darken, furious brows creasing. Most terrible are his eyes that seem to glow with fury. A glaring fusion of insanity and rage, I feel my bowels threaten to slack.

Suddenly both my wrists are free and he's gunning for my neck. The action is too abrupt, it's humanly impossible. Long fingers wrap around my throat, locking like a snap bracelet.

Instinctively my fists fly up to fight. He's only using one hand, how is he this strong? He's the scrawniest one of the group too.

I squirm under him, twisting, clawing, gasping for the oxygen being cut off. He swats an intervening hand of one of the other's off his shoulder, never taking his wretched glare off of me.

Teeth gritting, grimace melting and distorting. That awful gaze drifting down to my chest.

His free hand snatches the collar of my shirt, ripping my top as if it were paper. Body lifting, cheap fabric tearing down the center, turning the shirt into a tattered open jacket. My breasts shudder from the force in my exposed bra.

My necklace pendant flings to the side from the violent tear– bouncing off my limp hand that gave up fighting. His grip on my throat eases up and I'm immediately wheezing down a breath.

"That's enough, Derek!"

Derek clenches his jaw in reaction to the shout. His choking hand slides to my collarbone, still pressing me firmly into the dirt. I sputter, coughing and heaving in more air.

His face twists into a new kind of anger– more irritated but less demented.

Defeated, I turn my head away, my necklace glints in the slivered moonbeam. It has a small crack, but the liquid is still swishing around inside. I cradle it in a shaky palm.

"You were supposed to protect me," I mouth.

"I never thought your impulsiveness would have you sink this low!" berates the voice again.

Fuming, Derek whirls to face the one pestering him.

"You've got to be kidding me, Sam," he spits back, "You have no right to be so self-righteous!"

I grip the pendant with every ounce of strength I have left. I've made a lot of stupid decisions today, what's the harm in one more?

As Derek turns back to finish me off, I smash it into his face.

The glass is thin and shatters with unexpected ease, shards stab into me as the orb implodes. The liquid comes rushing out, bursting like a water balloon.

A deafening screech startles me to my senses. Derek topples off, howling and writhing in pain.

Wide-eyed I see his skin bubble like a chemical reaction. Liquid sizzling and foaming, melting his skin off. Steam rolling off of his face as if it's boiling!

'What the hell was in there, acid?'

The scene is more than frightening but I have no time to gawk. Remembering the wall of bushes, I scramble my aching body to my feet, staggering across the shrub line. I'm still dizzy from the beating and tumble when crossing over.

I scurry further away on my hands and knees, wobbling and struggling to crawl in a straight line. The lightheadedness takes me down, I flop to my side after a few feet. The black trees are swimming against the dark sky. I roll onto my back to reestablish myself.

Dread washes over me as a fuzzy silhouette turns into a bulky man.

I hastily grab the chain of my necklace and fumble for the jagged remains, holding it out like a pocket knife in pitiful defense.

My stomach does flips and all my limbs lock up from the sight of him, that guy is big as a bear. But he doesn't take advantage of my vulnerability, he doesn't budge.

The big guy is standing right on the opposite side of the bushes, as if there really is a mystical barrier. In fact, he doesn't seem to be paying attention to me at all. His eyes are shifting back-and-forth scanning over the area behind me.

I flip my head around in response, revealing nothing but more shadowy trees.

Breathing out a small sigh of relief, I try to stop my head from spinning. Ignoring the hurt, I force my mind to clear enough to come up with my next desperate strategy.

Derek is on his arms and knees. He's not screaming anymore, but panting. I need to get up as soon as I'm sure I won't fall over.

My gaze veers over and the sight makes me jump, startled to see the one I assume they call Sam staring at me intently.

He's closer than before but is also stopped at the assumed barrier. His vivid, green eyes shine beneath a thick mess of black hair framing a triangular face. Eyes reminiscent of a predator's, like a great cat or a wolf. There's a tense tick in his defined jaw.

I'm unable to help being entranced but also scared out of my wits. He looks just as dangerous as the other two. However, just like his brawny friend, he hasn't moved an inch.

We stare in the unsettling forest silence. I'm frozen with the fear that, if I so much as twitch, they'll pounce.

My pulse thunders erratically in my ear drums as Derek picks himself up from off the ground. Aggression oozes from him, he looks diabolical.

I automatically shuffle backwards, shaking uncontrollably. He stalks my way, seething with every step.

The side of his face where I assaulted him looks awful. Exposed raw flesh, blistered and somewhat stringy from jaw to hairline, it burned all the way to his ear and partially into the cheek. His eye looks filled with blood, half-closed from the damaged edge where the folds are wrinkled and eroded. It adds to the already heinous expression.

He's coming at me, and I don't think that invisible line is going to slow him.

My heart is in my throat. Right as Derek makes a move to step over, the massive guy puts a hand to his chest.

"Let me pass."

The animosity snaking through his teeth makes me shudder.

"Ya can't go in there, ya kno' tha'," the bulky one says, still scanning the forest behind.

'Is there worse waiting for me on this side?' I clench my teeth, feeling stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Let me pass, Cooper."

His eyes are glued on me. I can feel the hatred radiating off of him.

Decision made. I plead with my body not to collapse, scurry to my feet and book it. I glimpse Derek coiling to lunge for me like a throat-ripping attack dog but that Cooper guy holds him back.

"Tha Reapa' took ou' three jus' this yea', Derek! Naw count'n tha usual. I knew one of 'em, 'e was…"

Cooper's urgent rant fades into unintelligible speech as I heave my sore body onward. My eyes dart around. I intentionally weave in my awkward run to make tracking more difficult.

It's daunting that there's something out here that's making those men reluctant to pursue but I don't have a choice. If Derek gets his hands on me a second time he'll kill me, no question.

'But a reaper, did I hear that right? What does that even mean!'

A shiver wracks my spine and I shoot a glance over my shoulder. I can't see the group anymore through the maze of trees.

'I'll deal with it! Whatever is out here has to be better than Derek.'

My little pep talk seems to be a jinx as a blur darts past my peripherals. Spooked, my wide eyes snap to attention but spot nothing. And in my distraction I run right into something solid.

I bounce off of it, landing on my butt with a thud. I swallow audibly– it wasn't a tree. I can't breathe, I'm petrified. My eyes creep up to meet the impossible...