I waited until their voices faded into the distance until I was sure they had given up and left.
Only then did I move, dragging myself to my feet and stumbling through the woods.
My body ached, every step a battle, but I pushed forward, driven by the single thought of freedom.
It felt like hours before I finally found the highway, the smooth asphalt a welcome sight after the unforgiving terrain of the forest.
I stumbled onto the road, my clothes soaked and torn, my body covered in cuts and bruises.
I raised my hand, waving desperately at the passing cars, but one after another, they sped by, ignoring my pleas for help.
Despair gnawed at the edges of my resolve, but I refused to give up.
I kept waving, kept shouting, until finally, a car slowed to a stop.
The driver, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, rolled down her window, her expression a mix of concern and suspicion.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice cautious.
