The weight of Kayla’s backpack was nothing compared to the disappointment of finding Ben with Selma. God, she felt stupid. She kicked the leaves covering the path, unaware of the muffled footsteps behind her.
He came from nowhere pulling her into the deserted park. She didn’t have the chance to scream. He threw her backpack to the ground scattering leaves like colorful confetti.
“Strip,” he said.
The ground, like the steel blade of his knife, felt cold against her skin.
Kayla squeezed her eyes, dug her nails into the bed of leaves, and prayed for an early spring.
Bio: Sheila M. Good is a writer from South Carolina. Her work has appeared in Blasting News, Angie’s Diary, Every Writer’s Resource, Every Day Fiction, Downer Magazine, WOW – The Muffin. She’s been featured on the No Extra Words Podcast, and
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