“No.”

Martin stares at you, like he can’t believe that word came out of your mouth. Truthfully, you can’t believe it did either; and your still tender butt twitches.

“You did not just say no to me.” Martin’s voice is low. Dangerous.

You reach deep down inside, to that insolent brat who was not going to be dissuaded from what he wanted. Only, you don’t have to reach all that far down. The response springs easily to your lips. “I think you’ll find I did. You can’t make me leave.”

Martin stares at you and, for a moment, you think you’ve won. That he’ll let you stay with him. You don’t want to leave. You can’t leave him. The very thought of it makes you feel empty and hollow inside.

And then he’s moving. Striding towards you. One hand grabs your arm and then, before you can react, his other hand collides with your backside. Once, twice; not especially hard, but enough to reignite the sting from the night before.

Still keeping a tight grip on your arm, Martin bends down to grab his rifle, eyes moving towards the door. “One of them’s here.”

The hairs on the back of your neck rise. “Paul?”

“He wasn’t here when I woke up.” Martin pulls you towards the door and nods towards your sneakers. “Put them on.”

“You can’t make me leave.” But your voice doesn’t sound so certain and insolent anymore. You twist round to face him, hands reaching up to clasp his face. “Please don’t make me leave.” You’re not above begging.

“Do you remember how much danger I told you that you were in before you moved the curse?” Without waiting for a response, Martin adds, “It’s worse now. I can’t protect you from me. Do you understand? I won’t recognise you. The best, the only hope we have of getting through this is to find out what went wrong. You go to the reservation and you find Walter and Ray.”

You put your sneakers on and then throw your arms around Martin, hugging him fiercely and tightly. “Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.”

“I should be telling you that.” Martin gives a strained smile before he kisses you and then shifts you to stand behind him. Holding his rifle trained on the door, he opens it.

“Going somewhere?”

You peer round Martin to see one of the teenagers who killed himself in the joyride standing on the porch. A manic grin spreads across his face.

Martin prods his chest with the rifle. “Move.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” The kid’s grin widens. “I’ll just come back. We both know that.”

Martin doesn’t respond with words. He shoves again with the rifle and the teenager steps to one side, allowing Martin to guide you towards the car.

Your lover keeps himself between you and the teenager as he edges you both towards the car. He unlocks the driver’s side, pulls it open and pushes you onto the seat, all without taking his eyes from the kid. He drops the keys into your lap and then, the final thing he does, he closes the door.

He doesn’t see the blow coming. The other teenager, who you didn’t spot, comes up behind him. Slams a thick branch into the back of his head, with enough force to drive him to his knees.

“Martin!” you scream.

The teenager yanks open the driver’s door and you react without thinking, shoving the key into his eye. As he shrieks and rears back, you lean back and kick him hard in the chest. Then, as soon as he crumples like a sack of potatoes, you pull the door shut, put the car into gear, turn the key in the ignition and drive.

With no other choice, you head to the reservation.