4338.211 · July 30, 2018 AD
Fifteen Minutes Deep
Fifteen minutes into Myrtle Forest, Sarah marches with determination fuelled by anger—at Karl, at herself, at tolerating behaviour she'd never accept from anyone else. The trail narrows. The forest swallows Gladys's tracks. Karl catches up, calls it madness. Sarah spins on him, snaps back. Then her emotional dam breaks. Tears mixing with rain. Karl's hands cup her face—gentle this time, not commanding. He pulls her into embrace. For the first time all day, his touch offers shelter rather than control.
Sarah walks for fifteen minutes, numbness replacing cold. Anger dominates—at Karl's grab, at yesterday's violence, at her own complicity. Why hasn't she reported him? What does it say that she's covering for behaviour she'd never tolerate from anyone else?
The forest refuses cooperation. No sign of Gladys. Just endless trees, mud, futility deepening with each step. Adrenaline drains away, leaving only exhaustion and frustration.
Karl catches up. "This is madness! If Gladys is out here, we're never going to find her."
Sarah whirls. "Why won't we find her?" Her voice flint-struck, flaring. For the first time, Karl really looks at her. Sees the tears mixing with rain. She's not just wet—she's crying. Actually crying.
"There's too much forest. We're just two people." Karl's tone shifts from frustration to compassion. Hands on her shoulders—grounding, not restraining.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Sarah scrubs at her face, turns away.
Karl steps closer. Cups her face gently. Palms against cold cheeks. When their eyes meet, he sees exhaustion, fear, sorrow threading through everything.
He pulls her into embrace without overthinking. Arms wrapping with quiet firmness. She resists, then something gives way. Shoulders drop. She leans into him, breath catching.
"Thank you, Karl."
The forest stills around them. Rain softens. Two figures seeking and offering comfort equally. The storm holds its breath.
