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The squirrel titters, crawling down my leg towards my foot. I laugh when it nibbles at the tip of my shoe, tugging on the material slightly.

I gasp when I see another squirrel come rushing toward us out of the corner of my eye.

“Oh my God, there’s two of you!” I squeak, keeping my voice quiet. May hops off my leg and meets up with her companion. The couple chases after each other, pulling another laugh from my chest. Several vines cling up the side of the trailer, directly up towards the hatch.

With both fondness and sadness, I watch the couple climb up the vines and squeeze their fluffy little bodies out of the crack.

“Bye, May,” I whisper, loneliness settling in.

Instead of letting it sink its claws into me too deep, I force myself to stand, my back and legs aching painfully.

I don’t remember much after dropping down in the trailer except that I nearly twisted my ankle, but I must’ve fallen asleep soon after. Considering there’s a blue tint to the light peeking through, it’s still early morning, and no more than a few hours could’ve passed.

There’s no doubt that they’re still looking for me, and I battle with the decision of whether I should keep moving or wait it out and hope they give up on searching the forest. I’m terrified to reach the point where I no longer have the protection of the abandoned train.

After that, I’ll be out in the open, with only two kitchen knives to keep me safe.

Deciding to forge ahead, I take a moment to gobble down a granola bar and chug half a bottle of water, determined to eat and drink sparingly. I want to throw these stupid water bottles for nearly getting me caught, but I have no idea how long I’m going to be stranded for, so I need them.

When I dropped in here, I hadn’t really given much consideration on how I was going to get out. And now, I really regret that decision.

I look around, hoping to find something that will give me a boost, but there’s nothing in here.

Shit.

God? Can we barter or something? If you help me get out of here, you have my permission to knock off ten years of my life. That’ll leave me with like five years left with all this stress, and I’m content with that.

Now that my head is clearer, I can say with absolute certainty that I don’t, in fact, want to die here.

But it looks like I’m going to.

Another bout of tears floods my eyes, and my throat tightens.

Just as I’m about to start hyperventilating, I hear voices outside of the trailer. Inhaling sharply, I’m paralyzed with terror as I listen to two people speaking.

I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I do hear the distinct noise of a radio.

Oh, my fuck, that’s them.

Hyperventilating commence.

I slap a hand over my mouth, suddenly paranoid that they can hear me breathe through thick steel. Glancing up at the hatch door, my heart drops when I hear a muffled voice say, “The hatch looks open.”

Absolute terror consumes me, and the only thing I can think to do is quietly grab both of my knives, fisting one in each hand, and head towards the far corner of the trailer where most of the shadows are converged.

Obviously, that’s going to accomplish absolutely nothing when they open the door and look inside, but there’s literally nothing else I can do. Not until they come down here.

The sound of someone jumping on the side of the trailer reverberates throughout the metal and along my body, sending my heart flying into my throat.

I grip the knives tightly, shaking violently as I hear the man crawl up the trailer.

“Hey!” a voice calls loudly. The man pauses, and with him much closer to the door, I can hear him better.

“Who the fuck are you?”

I can’t hear what the person’s response is, but whatever it is, the guy doesn’t like it.

“The fuck did you just say, asshole? You have no business being here.”