BETSY

Her heart pounded in her chest as she ran, each thud matching the rhythm of her hurried footsteps. The wind whipped past her, tugging at the strands of her hair as she dashed through the dense trees.

Her legs were wet and slippery as a result of the morning mist still visible on the dry leaves and small plants.

The forest was alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant calls from birds. To Bett, it was eerily quiet, as though the world around her was holding its breath. Meanwhile, she was the one holding on to her dear life.

"Aaaaarrrgghh..." she groaned silently; he was so close, too close. She could feel it, hear it, from his heavy pants and frustrated groanings.

"Shit," she cursed.

"How could an elderly man run this fast?" she murmured between breaths.

"Is he a dog or something?"

She didn't dare look behind her; she couldn't afford to. Any mistakes now could lead to trauma much bigger than what she was already facing.

Every muscle in her body screamed for rest, but her feet refused to slow. The ground was slippery, and her feet were sore and bruised as a result of broken branches and forest thorns.

The uneven ground below her seemed to rise and fall, making her stumble and grasp at branches for support. The darkness was creeping in, but Bett didn't stop; she had to keep moving, keep going forward.

"Aaaaarrrgghh..." she groaned again, frustrated, but this time louder.

This scene was so familiar; every bit of this felt like before. She was delving deeper into the depths of the forest, places only meant for the village hunters like Mr. Calm, Sam's father, and even the idiot chasing after her right now: Mr. Jerry. He had left behind his wife and three children only to trail behind her on her way home from work.

Bett was tired; she needed rest and freedom from these men, her father, and even from this cursed village. She was barely eighteen, for God's sake; just a few months left, and they all wanted to devour her.

Even as she delved deeper into the dark, she wasn't moved nor scared by the eyes that might be watching her and the movements of things in between the branches. The woods were a labyrinth of shadows and uncertainty, but she was born here, grew, and was groomed here; she knew the paths, the streams, the hills, and every nook to get her back to the village.

The path was just ahead, and she knew she would make it. She just had to. Betsy followed the small clearing and creek back home.

The moonlight filtered through the branches above, casting a pale glow on the ground. She could see the silhouette of the village from afar, and peace began to creep its way back to her heart.

Her lungs burned as the cold air rushed in and out of her; she was so exhausted, but there was no time to stop. She could still hear Mr. Jerry's curse and heavy breaths, shouting at her to stop and that he wished to tell her something, a thing that had no meaning.

She kept on following the trail that would lead her back to safety.

With a burst of determination, she broke through the thick patches of the clearing into the village, her mind screaming at her to stop and get some rest, but instead, she bolted forward.

She could no longer hear his footsteps nor his groans and curses. But only fools would be deceived by this abrupt quietness and stop to be unexpectedly devoured. She kept running, ignoring the eyes of the people staring at her and wondering why she was running.

Just when she saw the umbrage of her house, she stopped-breathless, collapsing to the ground. She turned back, expecting to catch a glimpse of him and his disappointment, but he was nowhere to be found, only women, men, and children of the village who were busy packing up their things, getting ready to go back home for the evening rest, and a few others who still stared curiously at her.

She smiled broadly and then slowly broke into loud laughter. People must think she was already mad or maybe a psycho; she didn't care-they were free to watch her.

Mr. Jerry failed again tonight. He failed to experience her womanhood just like the others. She had plans for all of them, and they will all continue to fail. She would rather give her pride to pigs or evil spirits than to any man of Inwoods.

The moonlight showed brightly over the village as Betsy found her way to her house, she hated the feeling of it; of always going back to her discomfort.

Ever since she was born it has always been from one problem to another, the men of inwoods known for their callous and promiscuous ways, coupled with the council leader 'Mr. Malik who lived just far away from the center of the village.

Malik was a towering figure with cold eyes and a heart colder still, He and his band followers were feared not just for the power they command, but for their strength.

They would extort the poor men of the village, taking food, money, and even their very hope and if anyone dared to defy them, they would disappear with no trace; but an empty house and a trail of whispers that must not reach the ears of the councils.

This band had been what Bett's father fought for, even selling all his horses and produce in the process, he had tried so many but failed attempts to join the council.

Even the poor village men were not left out of this cruelty, some of them ran after young girls and then poured their frustrations onto the wives and children, beating them up and sending their daughters to be slaves or wives to noblemen.

The worst ones would even send their wives outside overnight to face the harshness of the cold. This was the common practice of her neighbors, Mr and Mrs Nick. As she got closer, she could hear the raging voices, the crying of their children, and the loud bangs of broken plates.

It was nothing new; nothing she hadn't seen before and she knew Mrs Nick would sleep out again tonight.