Page 11 - Demo

11until he had ceased trying. The last time he tried, she had a bigger knife. It all ended up with her mother taking their beat up old car, with him inside, bleeding badly over the worn seats, into town and a clinic to be stitched.He never tried it again. But she had no knife with her now. A big mistake when he was in this kind of mood.%u201cCarla, so help me God, girl, if you don%u2019t come out here right now, you will be sore and sorry all week. Where the fuck are you?%u201dShe slid into the mud, low. He was around the corner, if she was quiet and the moon behind the clouds stayed there, the mud would slowly hide her as she slid out of sight and the reach of the glow of the house lights. She could make it to the darkness and closer to the swamp. No one would stumble out there so close to the waters at night without a light and being sober of mind; not even her drunken, violent father.She spread her arms out, pushing herself further into the soft wet mud. It began to cover her naked body but she stopped moving as she heard his footsteps on the outside boards around the shack. He was searching for her. She pushed herself down as flat as she could, even to the extent of pushing her face into the mud after taking a huge gulp of air. She waited, listening to him stomping on the boards.%u201cCarla!%u201d he shouted.She held her breath.His footsteps on the wooden boards ceased and were replaced by the wet sound of boots trampling mud. Fuck. He was searching for her out around the perimeter of the shack, she realised.She started crawling forward, trying to get as far from the house as possible. Fear drove her. He was in the foulest of moods and she knew, one look at her young naked body would fuel his lust. She reached the Swamp Tramp