Chapter 4 - Run, Lily, Run
Arthur lunged at me.
I dodged under his arm, scrambling across the room. I was small, fast, and agile—skills perfected from dodging angry shopkeepers and transit police. I scrambled over the back of the leather sofa as Arthur crashed into it, cursing loudly.
"Maxwell! Wake up!" I screamed, shaking his shoulder as I passed him. But Maxwell was completely out, blood trickling from a nasty wound on his temple.
"He’s not waking up, brat!" Arthur roared, his face red with fury. He blocked the main doorway. "And neither are you. You think anyone is going to believe a homeless girl? I’ll tell the police you broke in, attacked Maxwell to rob him, and I caught you in the act!"
He reached for me again, his hands clawing at my pajamas.
I grabbed the hot poker from the fireplace hearth and swung it. The metal tip caught him across the hand, leaving a red, blistering mark. Arthur screamed, backing away for a fraction of a second.
That was all the time I needed.
I didn't run up the stairs—that would trap me. I ran toward the back of the mansion, through the kitchen, and threw open the heavy back doors leading into the dark, rain-slicked gardens.
The cold night air hit me like a slap to the face. The rain was pouring, soaking my pajamas instantly. I ran blindly through the maze of manicured hedges, my bare feet slipping on the wet grass.
Behind me, the mansion’s alarms began to blare.
"Security!" Arthur’s voice echoed through the outdoor speakers. "There is an intruder! A young girl! She’s armed and dangerous! Stop her!"
Flashlights began to cut through the darkness of the estate gardens. Flashlights belonging to the security guards who were paid to protect this place—but who now took orders from Arthur.
I ran toward the perimeter wall. It was ten feet high, topped with iron spikes. There was no way I could climb it.
Think, Lily, think!
On the streets, you always look for the drain pipes.
Near the eastern corner of the property, a massive oak tree grew close to the wall, its branches stretching over the iron spikes. I scrambled up the wet trunk, my hands slipping on the rough bark, scraping my knees until they bled. I didn't care about the pain. I only cared about survival.
I crawled out onto a thick branch that hung over the wall. Below me, on the other side, was a dark, wet New York street. It was a fifteen-foot drop.
"There she is!" a voice shouted from below. A flashlight beam locked onto me. "On the tree!"
I didn't hesitate. I closed my eyes and jumped.
I hit the concrete hard, rolling to absorb the impact, pain shooting up my legs. But I forced myself up. I didn't look back. I ran into the dark, welcoming shadows of the city.
For three hours, I ran through the rain, twisting through alleyways, hiding behind trash bins, utilizing every trick I had learned in my three weeks of homelessness. By the time the sun began to rise, painting the sky a dull, dirty gray, I was miles away from the Upper East Side.
I ended up in a abandoned subway tunnel near Bowery, shivering, covered in mud, blood, and rain.
I was back where I started. Homeless. Cold. Starving.
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But as I curled up on a piece of damp cardboard, tears finally spilled over my cheeks. I hadn't just lost my shelter. I had lost Ethan. I had lost the only father figure I had ever known. And they were still in that house, trapped with a monster.
I closed my eyes, but I didn't sleep. I knew Arthur would hunt me. He had to. Because as long as I was alive, I was the only witness who could destroy him.
