Unveiled: The Survivor's Triumph

I was running out of the woods, almost reaching the main road, when I saw Arthur's car coming. I quickly hid behind a tree; he had noticed I was gone.

I couldn't use the main road anymore. If Arthur didn't find me ahead, he'd definitely turn back. If he caught me, I was done for.

I needed to find another car. After Arthur's car disappeared, I ran back along the road, waving at passing cars, hoping someone would stop. But everyone just looked at me with surprise or ridicule and sped off.

I looked down at myself tattered clothes and bloodstains. I probably looked worse than a refugee or a madwoman.

Time was running out. Arthur would soon figure out where I was and come back. I had to act fast.

Desperate, I made a risky move. When I saw headlights again, I jumped out.

'Either I get hit or the driver takes me away,' I thought.

The brakes screeched. The car didn't hit me hard; I rolled onto the ground from the leap.

I looked up, disheveled, waiting for my fate. In the darkness, I saw a man light a cigarette. He seemed good-looking.

After exhaling smoke, he looked at me with interest. Finally, he spoke. "Miss, are you trying to extort me over my broken bicycle? Are you kidding me?"

His voice was magnetic, but his words felt like a slap. He was on a mountain bike, and the light I saw was from its headlamp.Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

To him, I probably looked like I was faking it for money.

When our eyes met, he seemed momentarily stunned, but I quickly looked away. I just hugged my legs, waiting.

Seeing I wasn't demanding compensation or responding to his mockery, he put his cigarette on the handlebar and rode away.

Watching him disappear, I couldn't hold back my tears. I wished he had stayed, even if just to mock me. Anything was better than this fear.

In the dark, my sobs were loud.

Soon, the light shone on me again, and I heard brakes. I looked up in surprise; the mountain bike had returned.

The man sat by the road, smoking. "You're crying so miserably. Did you run away from home? Were you abused?"

I looked at him, stunned, tears in my eyes. The headlamp lit up his face.

He was incredibly handsome, with rugged charm. Even in a short-sleeved shirt and shorts, with sweat-dampened hair, he looked composed. His exposed legs and arms were strong. Maybe because I hadn't demanded compensation, he believed I wasn't faking it. Now, he looked at me with confusion.

"You don't look too well," he said, glancing at my blood-stained feet.

I hugged myself tightly and whispered, "Can you take me away from here?"

He nodded, put the cigarette in his mouth, stood up, and took a piece of clothing from his backpack to drape over my shoulders.