Savage Cinderella

by PJ Sharon

  Cody looked on from the doorway, still surveying the shrubs for signs of the bear’s return, apprehension lining his rugged features. "She’ll be okay; we got to her in time, Justin. I’m sure of it. Search and rescue can't be far behind us.” As if on cue, the distant sound of barking dogs reached Justin's ears, bringing another wave of relief and drawing his attention to the cliff’s edge.

  A loud thud and a groan called his awareness back to the doorway. Cody was lying on the ground in front of the cabin and Roy Stockman stood in the doorway, wild-eyed and bloody, gun in hand. "Get away from the girl. She’s mine." His voice rasped with effort.

  Justin froze. The man had the gun trained on him. Blood streamed down his face; his clothes were saturated and torn. Cody’s motionless body lay sprawled on the ground. The sight left Justin cold. He faced the man and stood his ground in front of Brinn. "You aren’t getting your hands on her ever again."

  Stockman growled, "I'm not leaving here until I see her dead!" The man swayed in the doorway, staggered out into the clearing, and waved the gun as if he were seeking a moving target. He swiped at the blood that streaked his face and ran in his eyes. What skin wasn’t covered in blood was gray with shock.

  "I won’t let you hurt her." Justin’s voice had taken on a sharp edge, his eyes fixed on the wavering weapon in Stockman's hand. If he moved fast, he was certain he could disarm the man, but he had to get him to come closer. “The police will be here any second. You won’t get away.” His voice sounded calm despite the quivering of his insides.

  Roy Stockman glared defiantly at Justin, a vicious smile curving his lips. "I’ve got two bullets, Kid. One is for her." Seeking his prey, his dark eyes focused on the movement behind Justin as Brinn stirred. “Whether the second one is for you or me—well, I guess that’s up to you. Either way, I’m not going to prison. Now, move away from the girl!"

  Justin tentatively stepped to his left. He shielded Brinn from the man's view and drew his attention away from her. The movement seemed to infuriate him further. His torn face contorted with rage and his good hand waved the gun wildly, the bloody right hand clutched in a fist at his chest. "I will kill you where you stand, Boy. Get out of my way!" Stockman took another step forward.

  Lunging for the swaying gun, Justin grabbed the man's wrist and pointed the weapon skyward. The gun went off and a loud crack split the air. The two men stumbled backward. Stockman gained his footing and twisted, catching Justin off guard. As the two men struggled for control of the gun, their entwined hands flung the weapon out of reach toward the cabin. Stockman screamed his rage. He slammed into Justin, and the fight edged toward the cliffs.

  Justin landed a blow in Stockman's gut, and the man folded at the waist. Instead of dropping to the ground, Stockman charged with all of his weight behind him. He tackled Justin low and hard, sending him flailing over the cliff’s edge. Justin grabbed for the man, but found only empty air. He cried out as he dropped into nothingness.

  With a thud and a crunch of bone, he landed on a ledge ten feet below. He lay stunned, unable to breathe or move. The loud crunch he’d heard when he landed now registered as piercing pain in his side. His breath came in shallow pants and ragged groans. The hillside below was a steep drop littered with jagged rocks that could tear him apart. He closed his eyes against the image and then snapped them open. The sounds from above him sent new waves of terror into his already thundering heart.

  Chapter 39

  Dead or Alive

  Brinn watched the scene unfold from where Justin had laid her down. Her head felt fuzzy, but the sounds of Justin and Stockman struggling had woken her enough to grab her attention. To her utter horror, her first clear vision was of Justin careening over the edge of the cliff. Her mind blurred with denial. He couldn’t be dead. Her heart plummeted as her mind cleared. How could he survive such a fall?

  She had counted on the treacherous cliffside for her protection over the years. Now, tears welled in her eyes at the thought of Justin impaled on the crags below. Stockman stood close to the edge, swaying as he peered over the cliff. He sneered through ragged breaths, gloating over his recent kill.

  Rage shoved aside her fear and grief. Brinn scanned the area, looking for a weapon. Cody was completely motionless on the ground in front of the cabin, a small pool of blood under his head. Stockman’s gun was close to the body and too far away to reach from where she was. The hilt of her buck knife tucked into the back of Stockman’s belt made her jaw clench and her eyes narrow with fury.

  Brinn winced as she pulled herself to standing. She leaned on a tree for support and then pushed all of her emotions down deep, calling the numbness to take over. She didn’t care about living or dying, right or wrong. All that registered now was vengeance. Moving swiftly despite the burning in her shoulder, pounding in her head, and the breaking of her heart, she picked up a thick arm of an oak branch from the ground next to her and approached Stockman with purpose.

  Enough was enough. This monster had to be stopped. He must have heard the movement or had finally lost interest in celebrating his triumph. As he turned to face her, a look of shock covered his face, quickly replaced by a crooked, bloody grin of satisfaction.

  "It looks like it's just you and me again, Darlin'. It seems your boyfriend is out of the picture." He laughed at the sick joke. Her rage boiled inside of her, bringing with it a surge of adrenaline and courage that came from somewhere beyond her.

  Without hesitation, Brinn approached the man, her makeshift club raised onto her good right shoulder like a baseball bat. When she stood within five feet of him, she let the cold fury in her heart bloom on her face and felt a small nudge of satisfaction as Stockman stepped a little closer to the edge of the cliff.

  "I won’t let you hurt anyone else!" Brinn closed the distance and as the man raised his arms to defend against the expectation of a swinging club, Brinn landed a hard, booted kick to his groin.

  A satisfying crunch, accompanied by a breathless groan, escaped the man. His legs collapsed inward, he doubled over, and dropped to his knees. Brinn’s left arm was useless, but she gripped the club tight with her right hand and swung with all of her might. The wood splintered and broke apart as it landed with force across Roy Stockman’s shoulders. She’d aimed for his head but the inaccuracy didn’t matter. The blow had the desired effect.

  The man hit the ground face first, a rasping grunt escaping his lips. Brinn breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t move, but she watched his ribs expand with breath, fear clutching her heart. She looked at the remains of the stick in her hand. The point of the splintered wood was sharp. She imagined driving it through his body.

  She wanted him dead. He deserved to die for what he’d done to her, to Carrie Weston, to Justin, and to so many others. If she took Stockman’s life now, it would be justifiable, but would it remove the stain he’d left on her soul...or add another?

  She sobbed as she fell to her knees. She dropped the stick and grabbed for her wounded shoulder, hugging herself tight around the middle as grief took hold. Then a sound from over the cliff dragged her back to the moment.

  "Brinn, are you there? Are you all right?"

  It was Justin. He was alive. She crawled around Stockman, who was prostrate and unconscious on the ground. Brinn peered over the edge of the cliff, keeping one eye pinned on her enemy. Justin was lying on his back on a large flat slab of stone that was tilted precariously. He remained still. One wrong move and he would tumble down the mountain in a rock slide.

  "Brinn, get a rope. There's one in Cody's pack." Brinn hesitated for only a second and then turned and staggered to where Cody lay face down in the dirt. Her legs wobbled from shock and exhaustion.

  She checked for breath under Cody's nose. He was still breathing. Tension drained from her clenched jaw. She wiped sweat from her brow. Rummaging one-handed through his pack, Brinn found the rope and turned back to the cliff’s edge.

  She threw the end of the rope to Justin and awkwardly tied the other end t
o the sturdy birch tree that marked the edge of her clearing. "Can you climb?"

  "I think so," he called up. "I might have cracked a few ribs, but I think I’m okay otherwise.” Pain and frustration infused his tone as he wrapped the rope around his waist and tied a secure bowline knot. With a labored breath, he called up to her. A relieved smile covered his face at her appearance above him. “Are you okay?"

  Brinn looked down at the prone form of Roy Stockman, bloody, tattered and unconscious, and yelled back. "I am."

  And she was, she realized. As much as she wanted the man dead, she hadn’t given in to her desire to kill him, but had fought to hold onto her humanity. She would not be like him. He could not have her soul, nor would he ever hurt her again.

  Brinn turned her attention to Justin, who was making his way slowly up the cliff side. The rock beneath him groaned, shifted, and crashed down the slope as his weight was lifted off it. The clatter of the rockslide echoed in the trees. Justin gasped and groaned as he dangled by the rope and slowly found purchase for his feet, inching his way up the side of the jagged cliff. Brinn’s heart was in her throat as she helplessly looked on.

  The barking of dogs grew louder and Brinn tipped her nose to the air. The scent of men drifted up the hillside. They were only a few minutes away. Relief swept through her, the adrenaline wearing off and leaving her feeling weak and dizzy again. With her attention focused on Justin’s laborious assent, and her own efforts to remain conscious, Brinn didn’t sense the movement behind her.

  Chapter 40

  Last Chances

  She screamed as Roy Stockman grabbed her by the hair, dragging her away from the ledge. He spun her around to face him, blood mixed with dirt completely obscuring his features, now unrecognizable as human. The flesh on both cheeks was torn to the bone. Long slashes from sharp claws left little of the face that had once been plain and nondescript. All except for the empty, black eyes that stared down at her with disgust and triumph.

  Brinn had no strength left to fight. He gripped her hair tightly and pulled her painfully close. Only his eyes and his face swam in her view. His rank breath and the thick scent of blood choked her attempt to cry out. As he raised her buck knife overhead—the knife that she had depended on for her survival—she felt darkness descend and the sick sensation of death and helplessness envelop her. The dream where she was running in the meadow, legs heavy and leaden with the weight of fear on her back came to her in blurred images. The world faded from view. She blinked her eyes furiously, trying to hold onto the light.

  Then the memory of waking in Justin’s arms that morning in the cabin, warm and safe, found its place in her mind. She would not give in to the darkness. Stockman could not have her. Not now. Not ever again.

  Taking in a sharp breath that infused her with a burst of life, her eyes flew open wide. As Stockman’s arm came down, the blade glittering in the sun, Brinn ducked her body under the blow and twisted, disrupting his balance. His grip loosened enough for her to escape. With her right hand, she grabbed his wrist below the hilt of the knife. She allowed the swing of his arm to continue its downward momentum as she guided the long blade into his inner thigh.

  The movement was one fluid and graceful slow motion picture in Brinn’s mind. The sensation of the blade entering his flesh brought everything to a screeching halt. The man howled in pain. Blood gushed from the wound through the hole in his pants. The stain spread out at an alarming rate. A look of shock covered his face as he dropped to one knee. His eyes were blank as he pulled the knife from his leg and watched the pulsing flow of blood soak the ground. She’d hit the femoral artery. He would bleed out in minutes.

  As if on auto-pilot to kill, he slashed at Brinn. She drew her spine into a tuck that barely evaded the slice, and grabbed for the knife once more. She had practiced this maneuver a hundred times. Instinct and training took hold and Brinn twisted the man’s wrist while she grasped the handle of the knife, taking control of the weapon and thrusting it into Stockman’s throat just as the crack of a gunshot sounded.

  He gasped like a fish suddenly ripped from the water, blood spurting from his open mouth. His eyes went wide and he fell to the ground face first, driving the blade clear through to the back of his neck. He didn’t move again. Stunned, Brinn stepped back, her legs finally giving way as shock took over. Before she hit the ground, someone caught her.

  Brinn turned to the arms that held her tight around the waist from behind, feeling the strength of Justin’s body holding nearly all of her weight to keep her standing. He helped her to the rock and sat her down—then collapsed beside her.

  “You’re okay, Brinn. It’s going to be all right. I’ve got you, now.” His voice was tight with pain, but soothing. Brinn released the held breath that kept her muscles tense as she rested into his arms. She stared blankly at the lifeless body of Roy Stockman. His eyes were empty and dead. He would never come after her again. Her nightmare was finally over.

  A moment later, the small clearing filled with a dozen search and rescue workers and police. Brinn was immediately surrounded by concerned and capable hands, Justin at her side while the paramedics taped and wrapped his broken ribs and tended her shoulder.

  The sun was low in the sky by the time Brinn and her friends made their way off the mountain. After climbing to the high meadow where a helicopter waited, she stopped to say good-bye to the forest that had held her in its arms and kept her alive.

  Justin had come after her. He had risked his life for her and in the end, they had saved each other. Justin wrapped his arm snugly around her waist, holding her as if he’d never let her go. The shock had worn off and Brinn welcomed the aching in her flesh. It meant she could also feel the rush of warmth that moved through her with Justin so close. Her heart swelled with joy at the thought of seeing her family and friends again. Above all else, she felt gratitude for the life that coursed through her. Pressed close to her body were her sketch pad and the worn copy of The Diary of Anne Frank.

  Above the whir of the helicopter blade, she stood tall and cried out in a loud, high-pitched wail that traveled through the mountains and echoed off the trees, filling the air with a triumphant and savage song.

  Epilogue

  Lessons Learned Along the Way

  Spring, a year-and-a-half later

  It was hot for May. Brinn stared out at the crystalline blue sea, the late afternoon sun settling its rays across the surface, obscuring the world that lay beneath. White foam settled along the shore where the waves lapped softly against the white sand beach. Drawing in a deep breath of salt air, she was infused with happiness. She smiled down at the dozing figure beside her, and watched him sleep. If she could spend her life gazing at him in peaceful slumber, a relaxed, dimpled smile curving the edges of his satiny lips, she would believe that angels and heaven were only a touch away.

  Miracles seemed a constant in her life these days. Love, hope, and faith in family all seemed within her reach, while the past drifted further away with each passing day. She considered the Victim’s Advocacy group and her therapist as a troop of fellow warriors to help in her daily battles against the pervasive fear and anxiety that shadowed her still, even knowing that her enemy was no longer a threat. Recovery was a blessing but also a work in progress.

  Although counseling and school kept her more than busy enough, she and Justin found ample time to spend together. He had successfully convinced her that his kiss with Charlene was completely innocent, at least on his part.

  Justin opened an exhibit at the Museum of Art and Design in Atlanta, showcasing his "Savage Cinderella" collection. Brinn surprised him with his old camera, having retrieved it from the mountainside. The original pictures of her by the creek drew rave reviews.

  She loved the photographs that he took. Each one captured expressions of emotion that she was just beginning to discover. Sharing herself with the world she’d felt separate from for so long brought healing to her soul and the sense of belonging that she’d longed for. Having spe
nt so much of her life hiding in the wilderness, surrounded by beauty but experiencing only loneliness, fear, and survival, the world was suddenly an open book—a book in which she could discover new freedoms, new places, and new feelings, and write her own story.

  The sound of seagulls overhead drew her attention to the cloudless blue sky. She squinted and shaded her eyes. The birds dove into the sea after fish that shimmered just below the surface. She smiled at their natural cunning and skill, remembering her time of catching her dinner within her own two hands. Remembering the day that changed her life—the day she met Justin.

  Despite the many challenges of reintegrating into society, building relationships, and managing to learn parallel parking in downtown Atlanta, she felt content with the path before her. She still worked at Mr. Hoffman’s store on weekends, much to his delight, but she had big dreams for her future—a future she never believed possible.

  In the short term, she made plans with the National Park Service to patrol the High Country through the summer as part of an internship program in the Environmental Sciences department at the University. That way, she could keep an eye on Kitty, who had fully recovered, and her cubs, which were now full grown.

  Her parents had apparently worked through whatever difficulties they’d had and Brinn was over-the-moon happy that her mother was expecting a baby boy any day. The thought of being a big sister brought another layer of joy into her life that she couldn’t have thought possible.