Chapter 190 Memories

• Faye
• “Wait,” I beg, scooching across wet grass, my palms broken and bruised from the gravel on the road. “Why? Why are you doing this?”
• Another blow to my chest has me curling into the fetal position. Rain pelts my face–sharp, and cold. The dress my mother spent weeks perfecting is torn from my body, leaving me in only my shift. I whimper as I roll onto my belly and crawl toward the woods, but a blow to my back flattens me to the ground. I scream, my desperate cries for help falling on deaf ears as the group standing on the road watches in silent observation.