<<run UIBar.unstow();>><<run UIBar.show();>>It's a long drive.
Your body aches from it, from sitting for so long, your hands stiff from holding the steering wheel too tight, and your head hurts, a sharp pain just behind your eyes.
Every time you glance at the rearview mirror, you can feel it, making you grimace, and you imagine your reflection peering down at you, your own eyes haunting your peripheral.
[[It's a long drive. ->01.01]]
You fidget with the radio, flicking through the channels, irritated by the amount of talking - everyone is always //talking//. You give up and turn the radio off, content to just listen to the sound of the rain across your windshield.
You had worried originally that the drive would make you change your mind. Too much time to sit and think. But if anything, the time alone has [[emboldened you ->02]].The map you had printed out from Google claimed it was five hours and twenty-eight minutes, to be exact. You're closing in on your sixth hour.
You stopped a few times. Even in the rain, the Blue Ridge Mountains are nothing to scoff at. And there's no rush - not for where you're going, [[anyways ->START 01]].The drive also allowed you to cross the King River Bridge - you have no reason to do so these days. It's a silly little thing - but looking out over the water, even with the choppy waves and the dark skies, it reminds you of summer. You could smell the honeysuckle and feel the warmth of the sun on your face for just a moment. You used to cross this bridge almost every weekend with your old friend when you were a kid. You haven't seen her in years - there was high school, and then college, and you went your separate ways. Life happens. //So it goes.//
But it was nice to think of her again. You wonder if she thinks about [[you ->03]].
You glance into the rearview mirror. You're getting close. The rain has slowed a bit, your windshield wipers whining as they scrape across the glass, and you take your exit, the sign overhead indicating //Jefferson National Forest//. The peninsula is far behind, and the mountains rise all around you, the winter trees bare and foreboding as you maneuver the narrow, muddy roads.
You expect to run into a locked gate pretty quickly, but you're able to drive for quite some time. You drive for another hour, and the entire time you sit tensed in the driver's seat, a sudden cold sweat on the back of your neck, your hands flexing around the steering wheel.
You stare up at the passing trees, the way their branches tremble in the cold rain, fallen leaves wet and slick on the asphalt. Soon enough you're driving on gravel. You'll have to get out of the car [[eventually ->04]].You pull off and drive as far into the trees as you can get. There's a dirt road you follow for a while, though it peters out rather quickly, no longer maintained like it used to be. You ease your car to a stop, letting the engine idle and listening to the drumming rain on the metal roof. You take a few deeps breaths.
And you cut the ignition.
The sudden silence is enormous. You sink back in your seat, your hands still on the wheel, closing your eyes for a moment.
"What the fuck am I doing?" you say.
[[No one answers. ->05]]
You open the door, slowly stepping out of the car and into the mud. You pull your hood up, tucking your hair into your jacket and pulling the drawstrings tight. Your breath fogs in front of you, and already your hands are aching from the cold.
You walk around to the trunk, popping it open and ducking beneath it, taking cover from the rain. Your bag is sitting in the back, waiting for you, and you take a second to strap a tarp over it. Once you've secured it, you take a step back, crossing your arms and glancing around through the trees.
Already night is creeping up on you. The shadows are longer beneath the trees, colder beneath the north peak.
You'll have to be quick, if you don't want to set up camp in the [[dark ->06]].
You grab your bag and swing it around onto your back. Clipping the buckles around your waist and across your chest, you take a moment to adjust the straps. Then you close the trunk. You lock the car doors.
And you start [[walking ->07]].You walk for a long time. It feels good, after being in the car for so long.
You walk until it's dark.
You have a headlamp in your bag, and you fish it out of a side pocket, pulling it on over your hood and fumbling for the light.
You walk.
The rain and the fog of your breath blur in front of you in the light of the headlamp, and eventually you have to stop.
You set up the tarp first, and then your tent. A difficult task in the [[dark ->07.01]].
By the time you crawl inside, you're beyond exhausted, kicking off your muddy boots outside before closing yourself in. You sit for a moment, your knees to your chest, listening to the rain and watching the tent walls tremble around you.
You unroll your mat and your sleeping bag, stripping your wet clothes before wiggling inside. You're hungry, and you're definitely dehydrated - your head still hurts, that ache behind your eyes spreading to the base of your skull. You reach for your water bottle, hardly touched since you got out of the car, and take a long drink.
[[But your food canister is outside, a dozen yards away. ->08]]Just like old times.
You should have stopped earlier.
There's an inkling of [[doubt ->07]] in the back of your mind.
At some point you fall asleep, despite your pain and your hunger. When you open your eyes, the grey morning greets you, the inside of your tent tinted blue from the canvas. You sit up with a pained groan, curling forward as you clutch at your head.
It takes you some time to pull yourself out of your sleeping bag. Your clothes are still wet from the night before, but you put them back on anyways.
You sit in your tent for a moment, listening to the forest outside.
It's not dark anymore.
And there's no more [[doubt ->09]].You emerge from your tent, squinting against the grey sky, a cold wind biting through your wet clothes. You pull on your boots, and then meander over to your food canister, a brisk little walk from the clearing you set up in. You dig around inside and take a protein bar for breakfast.
Your plan for now is to wait out the rain before moving on. You're still about two days out from where the old camp used to be - from the lake. But you're in no rush. Not this time.
You figure you can hike around today and see if any of the old structures are still standing.
If you remember correctly, there should be a cluster of cabins nearby.
You make your way back over to your tent, zipping it up tight and checking that the tarp is still secure. You finish your meager breakfast, and then start [[walking ->10]].
It's strange to be back out here.
It's been years. But the memory lingers, still fresh, despite your best efforts.
You almost came back one time before. For a different reason. You drove for five hours before changing your mind. Well, not exactly. You just went to a motel instead.
You thought the campground would be the perfect spot. Poetic, even. But is there really a perfect spot for that? The reality was just that you couldn't bring yourself to do it at home. Home - not home. Your mother's house. You couldn't take that final humiliation of her [[finding you ->10.01]].
It didn't matter. It was some random cleaning lady that found you instead. And you're still here.
You keep [[walking ->11]].In your bed. Or maybe in your closet. Or the tub.
On the floor in the kitchen.
You considered the quarry, in the woods behind your house. Fill your pockets with stones.
But even that was [[too close ->10]].You don't find any of the cabins.
You think they must have demolished them, which is a shame. Those were built by the Civilian Conservation Corps. You do find the skeleton of a chimney. It's the only sign that there was something here before.
You stand in its shadow, studying the crumbling brick.
It's a good tombstone for [[this place ->12]].You wander around for most of the day, retracing old trails that are now overgrown and forgotten, going in circles beneath the north peak. It rains on and off, stopping and starting and stopping and starting again.
You don't know what you expected.
Seeing this place again - it doesn't make you feel much of anything. You thought you'd be angry, at first. That it would take a few days for you to settle down. But you've just been anxious and cold.
You start to head back to camp.
But something catches your eye.
Up in one of the trees, you see something fluttering between the branches.
Something [[familiar ->12.01]].
You make your way over to the tree, peering up into the rain.
Your heart is pounding in your chest, your palms suddenly slick with sweat, and you know right then you have to climb the tree. You have to see for yourself.
There's a voice in the back of your mind calling you irrational. You agree. But it doesn't change the fact that you have to see it.
[[You have to see it. ->13]][[Blue was her favorite color. ->12]]You circle the tree a few times, trying to find the best route up.
You've always been good at [[climbing trees ->13.01]].
You take a deep breath, and jump for one of the low branches. It takes some effort to haul yourself up, and the tree trembles under your weight. But it holds. You balance carefully on the first branch, leaning against the trunk and reaching up, testing each branch before putting your weight on it.
You start to climb.
You're not as quick as you used to be.
But you're almost there. Rain water falls from the branches as you scramble up, and you have to keep stopping to wipe the rain from your eyes, and you can't help thinking how ridiculous this is.
"What the fuck am I doing?"
You stand over half-way up the tree, hugging the trunk and pressing your forehead to the wet bark. You close your eyes, shaking your head, and then you laugh.
You think how funny it would be to fall like this. To fall for a ghost.
You open your eyes and look up at the blue cloth shivering among the branches, just out of reach.
You can make out the familiar, orange floral print.
It is a ghost, after all.
When the branch under your feet starts to crack, you laugh.
When it snaps in half, you scream, the bark ripping the skin from your palms as you try to catch yourself - but you fall straight back, plummeting down through the branches.
[[Cut to black. ->14]]Much to your mother's chagrin.
Proper girls don't climb trees, [[after all ->13]].It's dark when you wake up.
It's hard for you to breathe, a heavy weight on your chest, and your head spins when you try to sit up, a pounding in your skull that makes you groan.
You have to wiggle out from underneath the branch. The mud and rain water pooling on the ground beneath you helps with that. You're able to free your torso, and you twist around, reaching out and clawing at the mud, dragging yourself forward until your legs are free.
You lay there, face in the mud, panting and wheezing, pain throbbing in your temples, your chest and ribs bruised and aching with each breath you take. You roll onto your back, and you stare up at the night sky.
No stars, no moon.
Just you and the [[dark ->15]].All of your gear is back at your camp. No headlamp, and no flashlight. And you're not sure you remember what direction camp even is.
You sit up again, wincing and clutching at your chest.
"Fuck."
It doesn't quite have the impact you're looking for.
"//Fuck//!"
You shout it into the dark, your voice hoarse and your throat raw.
You push yourself onto your hands and knees, and you shout it again and again.
And then you wail. You put your face in your hands and you wail and sob and cry.
You grab at handfuls of mud and dirt and tear up the grass and throw it into the dark, you curse the tree and that stupid blue cloth and yourself.
[[And you cry. ->16]]It's not fair.
It's not fair that when I was 8 they treated me [[differently ->16.01]].
It's not fair that [[they knew ->16.02]] before I did.
It's not fair that when I was in middle school, my parents were afraid I was going to become one of //[[them ->16.03]]//.
It's not fair that when I was in high school, they called me [[dyke ->16.04]] behind my back.
It's not fair that when I was 18 they tried to [[take me apart ->16.05]].
It's not fair what happened. It's not fair the way I've had to [[survive ->17]].It was just supposed to be a tomboy phase. I didn't like dresses or dolls or makeup or any of those things I was //supposed// to like. But it was just a phase. I was supposed to grow out of it.
I didn't grow out of it.
I was different. I was weird and wrong. [[I was just a kid. ->16]]My parents knew right away. My teachers, too. Then my classmates. My friends. My teammates. Everyone but me.
They knew before I did.
And when I finally realized it, I was ashamed. I was embarrassed. I didn't want to prove any of them right. I can't let them know [[they were right ->16]].They would talk about it as if I didn't know. Whispering in the other room. I could always hear them talking.
And here I am, the worst thing I could be
one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them [[one of them ->16]] one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of them one of themIt's been a long time since high school. But I remember-
DYKE DYKE DYKE DYKE
sitting at the table at lunch with my teammates-
DYKE DYKE DYKE DYKE
//What's your type? What kind of guy do you like?//
DYKE DYKE DYKE DYKE
Brown hair. Blondes. Jocks. Funny guys. Bad boys.
DYKE DYKE DYKE DYKE
They all turn to me-
DYKE DYKE DYKE DYKE
"What about you? What's your type? //Girls//?" (DYKE DYKE DYKE DYKE)
DYKE DYKE DYKE DYKE
I still remember the way my face got really hot. The way they all snickered and glanced at each other-
DYKE DYKE DYKE DYKE
"I don't like girls,"
DYKE DYKE DYKE DYKE
I spluttered-
DYKE DYKE DYKE DYKE
They ignored me[[DYKE DYKE DYKE DYKEDYKE DYKE DYKE DYKEDYKE DYKE DYKE DYKEDYKE DYKE DYKE DYKEDYKE DYKE DYKE DYKE ->16]]They called it wilderness therapy. A special program to make me realise what I'm //truly capable off.//
A program to learn back-to-basics skills, while being surrounded by the beauty of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
A program that was supposed to fix me. Make me strong. Make me //change//.
[[It didn't work. ->16]]You cry so hard you think you're going to throw up. But eventually you tire yourself out.
You force yourself onto your feet. And you start walking.
You just want to go home now.
Home.
Your [[mother's house ->18]].You stop walking.
You can't go back.
You wonder if you could just walk until you vanished. Would you slowly disintegrate - your feet first, bloody in your boots, worn down to the bone? Then your knees. Then your hands, as you drag along what remains. How long would that take?
Leaving nothing behind but a bloody trail through the trees.
Or maybe the cold will get you first. Hypothermia.
A bear, or a starving pack of wolves.
Hunger, or dehydration.
Or... or.
[[Or. ->19]]Or maybe you walk out of the woods.
For now, you resolve just to try and find your tent.
But you can't see shit. It's too dark. You have to go agonizingly slow, tripping in the brambles and slipping on mud, low branches scratching at your face and pulling on your hood.
Thankfully, the sky starts to lighten only about an hour into your blind fumbling. You were almost unconscious for the whole night. For some reason that makes you feel uneasy - you must have been lying there for hours.
Is this considered [[lucky ->19.01]] or [[unlucky ->19.02]]?Has to be luck, right? You were due a lucky roll. To make up for [[everything else ->20]].Unlucky. That's all it's ever been. Unlucky, and messy, and [[wrong ->20]].
You keep walking.
You're in a lot of pain. You tuck your one arm into your sleeve and clutch it against your chest, each step sending pain lancing up from your wrist and through your shoulder - you must have broken something in the fall. Trying to catch yourself, maybe.
Now it really is like old times, you think bitterly. The pain, the heavy sound of your boots as you trudge along, your frantic panting, the cold ache in your hands - just like [[old times ->20.01]].
You kick at a few broken branches on the ground, sending them skittering over the wet leaves, and you halt your trek for a moment, closing your eyes and taking a few deep breaths.
[[Isn't this what you wanted? ->21]]It's missing the other sweaty bodies staggering alongside you, the quiet sobs between ragged breaths, the instructor screaming at you over the rain to //hurry up hurry up hurry up//
Stop being so weak
Stop being so pathetic
Hurry up hurry up hurry up
This is a test of endurance. It will make you [[stronger ->20]].You open your eyes, exhaling slowly, and you start up again.
It's surprising that you manage to find your tent.
You can see the shock of bright blue canvas between the dark trees, their bark almost black from the rain. You start to move a little faster, limping along as best you can. It felt like you had walked so far yesterday - it embarrasses you that you didn't. Or maybe you were just walking in circles.
Out of practice. It's been a few years, [[hasn't it ->22]]?Closer to the tent now, but your sudden burst of optimism abruptly evaporates.
The tent is shredded.
Blue canvas litters the ground, random pieces of gear strewn across the mud.
"What the fuck?"
You stop short at the treeline, warily surveying the damage. Your bag has been dragged out, torn open and rifled through, all of your clothes shredded and muddy, your cooking pots soaked and rusting in the rain - even your water bottle has been destroyed, punctured and broken into pieces all scattered at your feet.
The tent is unsalvageable - there's basically nothing left but the floor and the stakes in the ground.
Slowly, you pick your way into the clearing, grabbing a few pieces of clothes off the ground, and examining your bag. It's not as bad as it looks. It's not as bad as the tent.
The bag, at least, is still [[serviceable ->23]].You stuff what you can back inside, including your torn sleeping bag, and then you pull down the tarp - the only thing that made it out completely unscathed. Using the tarp, you wrap it as tight as you can around your bag, covering the rips in the side and then tying it tight around the frame. It bulges awkwardly, and the weight distribution is off, but at least you've managed to keep it contained and functioning, for the most part.
It's just one day's walk back to your car.
One day.
This is a test of [[endurance ->24]].You tighten the straps of your bag, shifting the frame on your shoulders, putting more weight on one side, relieving your arm still tucked painfully against your chest.
You move across the clearing, but stop cold when you notice the tracks in the mud.
Dog? No.
//Wolf.//
It has to be at least three or four of them.
You expected a bear. You aren't sure if this is any better.
You descend the slope at the edge of the clearing, moving down to where you stashed your food canister. It takes you a frustrating moment to find it, half-covered in mud and leaves - but it's there. Untouched.
You //know// you didn't leave any food in your bag.
Glancing back up the slope, you let out a string of swears, digging the canister out of the mud with your hands. Bad idea - it's fucking cold. You can hardly get the lid off now, your one hand stiff and the other swollen and painful.
When it finally releases, you resist the urge to hurl the lid off into the woods.
Instead, you just take what you can carry. You're not going to be able to fit the canister back in your bag in it's current state, and the added weight would almost certainly be too much for you right now. You just stuff your pockets full of protein bars and bananas, and your trusty jar of peanut butter. You had a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches you pre-made as well, and you tuck those into the little inside pocket of your jacket.
You rip open one of the protein bars and wolf it down.
You have a sudden thought, and painfully pull off your bag, sliding your hand under the tarp and digging around blind for a moment through one of the rips in the side. You let out a triumphant shout as you pull free a little metal coffee cup.
You set it in front of you, on top of the canister, while you crouch in the mud with your knees pulled up to your chest.
You sit and watch the cup fill with rain [[water ->25]].With a little food and water, you force yourself back onto your feet, the loss of your gear feeling like nothing but a minor inconvenience to you now.
It's a wonder what a little snack will do for your optimism.
You glance back up the slope, eyeing a few stray pieces of blue canvas.
It's just [[one day's hike ->25.01]] back to your car.
Hooking your cup to your belt, you start off through the trees once [[again ->26]].That's what they always liked to tell you.
Just a one day hike. We'll be back at the cabins by dinner time. Just one day on the trail.
It was never just one day. But they would keep saying that, even on the third day, the fourth day, the fifth day. The twelfth day.
Just one day. We'll be back by nightfall. [[Trust us ->25]].The rain, unfortunately, continues through the day.
You stare down at your hands, red and purple and pruney.
Maybe the weather had been a sign. You should have cancelled. Or rescheduled. Or came back in the summer, like a normal person.
Though you think a normal person never would have come back [[here ->27]] at all.
These woods... you just can't shake them.
In your dreams, you always find yourself here. Your dreams and your nightmares.
Even when you're awake - in the shadows, you'll see the trees swaying, roots tangled in the floor, thin branches scratching at the walls and reaching out to lure you back in.
This place follows you. It talks to you. A memory of a place manifested, [[haunting ->27.01]] your every move.
You thought coming here would give you some kind of closure. Some kind of resolution. Isn't that how it works in the movies? It was supposed to be triumphant - a week in the woods, and you come out a better version of yourself. [[That person ->27.02]] that your parents always wanted you to be.
No. This is just another test of [[endurance ->28]].Haunts me when I'm walking home late at night, the little trees planted along the sidewalk seeming to grow right before my eyes, splitting asphalt and swallowing cars and blocking out the street lamps - no moon no stars just the dark of the woods as I run panicked through the streets. Someone calls the cops and I'm interned overnight in a cell.
Haunts me when I'm driving down a long road on the interstate, just me and the trees on either side. The leaves start changing, red and orange and brown as autumn comes and I'm still driving, the leaves falling across the windshield and then there's nothing but the sticks and the rain and the snow and I'm spinning out and I crash into the snowbank and I'm trapped in my car for two days.
Haunts me when I lay awake at night, flinching at the pouring rain outside, flinching at the shadows flickering past my window, flinching when the house shifts and settles. I sit up in my bed and strain to listen, to make sure they aren't inside. I use a chair to barricade my bedroom door to stop them from rushing in and dragging me out of bed again. I won't let them take me like last time.
Haunts me when I sit in front of my mirror and look at myself, when I see the dark circles under my eyes, the cut of my hair - I'm still too afraid to wear it short. I see the scars on my arms that keep me wearing long sleeves even in the summer. I look in the mirror and I see the little polaroid tucked in the corner, me and her at the lake. That one haunts me in a way [[I can't name ->27]].not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not [[one of them ->27]] not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them not one of them[[This is just survival. ->29]]It's dark before you know it.
You're getting nervous. At least you have your headlamp this time.
Surely you are close. Maybe two more hours in the dark. And then you'll be in your car, and you can get warm, and you can go home.
Home.
Well, at the very least, you can get out of //here//.
Clipping on your headlamp, you ease yourself slowly down a particularly steep incline, your boots sliding on leaves and mud. The wet of the rain and the harsh light of your headlamp makes everything shiny and black, a world of obsidian stone, and it's hard to tell where the trees end and the sky begins. It all melds together, your headlamp illuminating the single crack in the stone as you continue forward.
[[It starts to rain harder. ->30]]You're breathing hard, staggering along as rain drums against your hood, and your earlier headache has returned, the pain behind your eyes sharpened by the harshness of your headlamp. And you're hungry.
You already ate a second protein bar. You refuse to eat any more until you're back in your car.
[[Where is your car? ->31]]You swear as you stumble through the trees, catching yourself against one of the trunks as your boot snags on some root hidden beneath the leaves. You've been dragging your feet, exhaustion wearing you down, and you keep tripping - a root, a rock, a slick of mud.
You close your eyes, leaning against the tree, pressing your face to the jagged wet bark.
Your head hurts so bad you feel like your skull is going to burst. You imagine your eyes popping out of your head, your tongue swelling, blood on your brow as your forehead splits with a burst of brain matter.
The visual makes you laugh for some reason.
Cartoonish.
You open your eyes again, tilting your head, your light flickering for a moment.
"Hello?" you say.
The forest responds with silence.
No - you can hear something. You push off the tree and turn in place, your light sweeping through the trees.
There's a pair of eyes reflecting back at you.
You quickly take a few steps back, and the sudden motion makes your head spin, the trees swaying and leering down at you, more eyes watching you from within the twisted faces in the black bark. There's a sudden hum in the air, your hair standing on end, and then a flash of lightning snaps everything back into place. Trees are just trees. There are no faces watching you.
Except-
Except-
That one pair of eyes. Illuminated only for a moment - you can see them. The wolves almost have you surrounded.
You turn and [[run ->32]].It's a little generous to call it a run. Your unbalanced bag sends you staggering, and in your panic you can barely see where you're going, nothing but the blur of rain and wet leaves at your feet.
A roll of thunder shakes the trees around you, and you slam your shoulder into one, tumbling and barely catching yourself on another. You push off with a grunt, letting the momentum carry you through the dark.
Another strike of lightning, and you barely have enough time to throw your hands up as you barrel through a thicket of low hanging branches, scratching at your hands and ripping your hood off.
You're running down an incline now, and you almost topple forward, the weight of your bag sending you crashing through the bushes at the bottom of the slope, and you're thrown onto your knees, crying out as you instinctively try to catch yourself with your injured hand.
Pain explodes in your wrist, and you crumble forward, clutching it against your chest and gasping pitifully. You slap your other hand over your mouth, sinking down into the mud - maybe you can hide.
As if you could ever hide here.
[[These woods just expose you. ->33]]You strain to hear anything over the rain - over your frantic panting. But there's nothing. You slowly sit up, turning to peer up the slope you just came crashing down, and your headlamp flickers a few times, but still - nothing.
"Fuck this place," you snarl, shaking your head as you push yourself back onto your feet.
You only get to take a few steps before the forest responds.
Lightning strikes a few yards in front of you - and there. You can see your car.
But the lightning hits.
It's //loud// - a burst of sparks and smoke and a blinding light that lingers behind your eyelids for a few seconds. The tree ignites, burning orange and smoking as the rain smothers the flames, and it groans - the only warning before the trunk splits, and you watch in horror as the tree falls. The metallic crush as its weight crumples the frame of your car, the burst of glass as the windows all pop, and the ground trembles from the impact, sending you back down to your knees.
"No!"
You stare in disbelief.
<<link '"//Fuck// this place."' '34'>><</link>>You stay with your car until morning.
You can't get into it - you tried. Not that it matters. There's nothing in there that would help you.
The rain has stopped now. You sit on the ground, your bag beside you, staring over at the wreckage.
Your head hurts. You have a little water left in your cup, but with the rain stopped you try to conserve it. You ate one of your bananas earlier, but you're still hungry, a sharp pain twisting in your stomach making you nauseous.
You just have to walk back to the road. You didn't drive that far in. You can follow the trail now, and then you can follow the road. You can walk out.
[[Just one more day's hike. ->35]]Reluctantly, you stand. You heft your bag up, whining painfully as you struggle to slip your one arm through the strap. You pick up your cup, taking one last drink, finishing it off before hooking it back to your belt. And then you start walking.
The dirt trail you drove in on helps, the ground a little more even, a little more forgiving as you drag your boots through the dirt. You blink up at the grey sky, a little lighter than it was yesterday, and you hope for the sun. Just a little bit of sun to warm you up. You look down at your hands - they're still red and purple and pruney.
Your one hand is visibly swollen now. It's bruised, your fingers and knuckles yellow and purple and green.
That can't be good.
They're also bloody. Scratches from the woods. You imagine your face has a few, too.
[[You keep walking. ->36]]You're just walking slow. You're in bad shape. The road has to be close.
It starts to rain again.
This is a test of [[endurance ->37]].
You can't find the road.
You know it wasn't this far.
There's no way you could miss the fucking road.
Why did you even come back [[here ->37.01]]?
You have to take a break. You find a relatively dry spot to sit - not that it matters, you're still soaked to the bone - and unload your bag.
You decide to indulge. You reach into your jacket and pull out one of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
It doesn't look very appetizing - smashed and smeared inside its little ziploc baggy - but damn does it taste good. You lean against your bag, tilting your head back and staring up at the sky. You watch the way the thin branches of the canopy slowly sway in the distant breeze, a few darker clouds trailing by.
You [[remember ->38]] how you and Dina used to watch the clouds down at the lake.[[for her ->37]]You're washing clothes in the lake.
You hate washing clothes in the lake.
But you always volunteer for this chore. It lets you get away from everyone else, and it lets everyone else get away from you. And it's simple and repetitive.
You dunk the clothes in the water, scrubbing fruitlessly with a ratty old sponge. Sometimes you think this just makes everyone's clothes even worse.
You're intent with your task, your pant legs rolled up as you crouch in the shallows, your long sleeves pushed up to your elbows as you scrub and dunk and scrub and dunk.
You stop when you notice someone walking nearby.
You tense, expecting it to be an instructor coming to check on you.
But - no. She's a //client//, like you. You think her name is Dina.
You watch as she walks along the edge of the lake, seemingly oblivious of you. When she gets a little too close-
<<link '"Hey."' '39'>><</link>>She startles, her dark eyes wide as she blinks over at you.
"Hey..." she says slowly. Her face has gone pale, but then recognition makes her relax a bit.
She knows you won't snitch to any instructor.
"What are you doing?" you ask.
She wanders over to you, dipping the toes of her boots along the waterline.
"Wanted to go for a walk," she shrugs.
"What are you //supposed// to be doing?"
She hums, tilting her head as she peers down at you in the shallows.
"Chopping wood," she says. "But the other girls won't let me."
You frown, but Dina doesn't seem bothered by it. You actually enjoy chopping firewood and splitting kindling - if you don't get laundry, you always hope to get that instead. You think they tend to avoid assigning it to you, though.
No, they like to make you do the laundry and the cleaning. [[Like a good little girl. ->40]]"Have you been to that dock before?" Dina asks then, nodding to the distant boathouse across the lake.
You raise an eyebrow at her.
She smiles, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.
"I like coming down here," she takes a seat on the shore as she says it, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I like watching the clouds on the water."
She sits behind you like that while you finish with the laundry. You feel a bit anxious with her there, glancing over your shoulder more than usual, checking for any approaching instructors - if they catch her down here, you'll both be in trouble.
But you also like it.
The other girls avoid you for the most part. They're not unkind, necessarily, but they are distant. You're used to it - but it hurts more here. You feel so alone.
You wade out of the lake then, stepping past Dina and hauling your bucket of wet clothes over to the clothesline. Dina stands and follows you.
"Want help?" she asks.
You stare at her for a long time.
<<link '"Yes."' '41'>><</link>>You finish your sandwich, shoving the empty baggy back into your pocket, ignoring that you're still hungry.
You watch the clouds for a few more minutes before standing back up.
[[And then you start walking. ->42]]You don't find the road. You wonder maybe if you're going in circles. You start to pull bark off of some of the trees, leaving signs for yourself. But you never find them again.
You just keep walking, staying on the dirt trail, but it seems to be endless. No road, no signs, no nothing.
You really don't want to spend another night out here. [[Exposed ->43]].The woods are shifting around you. They don't want you to leave.
"No," you say out loud to yourself.
The forest doesn't respond [[this time ->44]].At some point, you become aware of the distant sound of running water.
You choose to leave the trail and follow it.
Maybe that's a bad idea. But you need water, more than a few pathetic mouthfuls of rain.
[[Dehydration ->44.01]] will kill you first.
You head back into the trees, glancing back at the trail one last time.
There's no road at the end for you to find. You have to go another way.
You follow the sound of [[water ->45]].What was it they said?
//Hydrate or die-drate.//
There was a girl in your group that had a really hard time adjusting to the program. She refused to participate, refused to play along and just pretend like everyone else.
She would kick and scream and cry and bite and resist every chance she got. It was admirable, if you're being honest.
She went through a period where she wouldn't eat or drink. The other girls said she was under the impression that if she got sick enough, they'd be forced to take her out of the program and take her to a hospital. You aren't sure where the hell she got that idea from - these people had all seen you get sick a few weeks ago, and there was never any indication they were going to take you out of here. You're actually pretty certain they would have just let you die.
It was the same for her.
They didn't let her leave. Instead, they would restrain her and force feed her in front of everyone else.
They would force her head back and dump water all over her, force bottle after bottle down her throat even as she coughed and retched all over herself, even as the rest of you begged them to stop.
[[Hydrate or die-drate. ->44]]The forest is just torturing you at this point.
You stare over the edge of the cliff, down, down at the river running at the bottom. It's a small gorge.
And the river is nothing more than a glorified creek. At least it is right //now//. You bet in the spring it floods down here, once the snow from higher up in the mountains starts to thaw. You could probably reach the water then.
You could climb down - but you fear you wouldn't be able to get back out. You can't risk that.
You let out a long sigh, crouching down and tucking your face into your hands.
"Fuck this place."
When you drop your hands, you notice a familiar pair of eyes watching you from the other side of the gorge.
Is it following you? //[[Hunting you? ->45.01]]//
The wolf just watches as you stand, as you reach over and grab a handful of muddy rocks off the ground.
"Fuck off!"
You shout at it as you hurl the rocks across the gorge, smashing them across the stone and against the trees. You actually manage to hit the animal, it's ears pinned back as it startles with a snarl, before darting off into the woods.
You stare after it, breathing hard, dropping the remaining rocks and clutching at your [[side ->46]].It wouldn't be the first time.
Something about you [[attracts ->45]] predators.The pain from your arm is radiating through the entire right side of your body, and your ribs are bruised from the fall on top of that, aching with each breath you take.
You can't let the wolves get too close.
All you have for protection is a [[swiss army knife ->46.01]].
You can feel the knife in your pocket, alongside your remaining protein bars. It's hardly a knife. It's just a tool. You used it to slice your bananas and scoop your peanut butter.
"Fuck me."
That seems to be your favorite word out [[here ->47]].You used to collect knives, before. But they made you get rid of them - you weren't allowed around sharp objects.
What a [[shame ->46]].Eventually, you pull yourself together and start walking again.
You keep close to the gorge, hopeful that maybe it will open up enough for you to reach the water, or that it will lead you into a public campground or a lake.
As the day drags on, you start to get nervous again.
You //don't// want to spend another night out here.
When it starts to get dark, you pull out your headlamp.
God, you're really fucking thirsty.
You stare down into the little gorge, your light shining on the water down below. [[Just out of reach. ->48]]You keep walking.
You notice the gorge is starting to get narrow, and you pick up the pace a bit, the prospect of potentially getting some water spurring you on.
You scramble down a steep incline, and the water is right there, spilling out from between the rocks and opening wide into a dark river, churning at the foot of the hill.
Almost there.
But you see something move. Just ahead - [[between the trees ->49]].[[Those eyes are watching you. ->50]]Not watching - hunting.
It's running straight for you.
It's not enough time to react - you try to get away but it's already there, leaping from the shadows with a snarl. You feel its teeth in your arm, and it jerks you around violently, throwing you to the ground and nearly sending you into the river.
The adrenaline gets you back up on your feet and has you running before it can charge you again.
You keep close to the river, your headlamp trained on the ground as you just focus on running.
[[Can a human outrun a wolf? ->51]][[Can I outrun a ghost? ->52]]You scramble up another incline, on all fours as you grab at fistfuls of dirt to haul yourself up. You can hear it breathing just behind you, and then it's on you again, sending you to your knees as it barrels into you. It latches on to your bag this time, ripping at the tarp, and you quickly reach up and unbuckle the straps, freeing yourself to twist out of the frame.
You leave it behind with the wolf, stumbling through the trees, and you're sprinting now without the bag weighing you down.
[[But you can't keep this pace for long. ->53]]You don't know where you're going, your headlamp barely giving you enough light to see in the dark, and you round a bend in the river and-
There-
[[A cabin. ->54]]You sprint straight for it, stomping up the wooden stairs and across the porch, throwing yourself at the door - but it's locked.
"Come //on//!"
You struggle with the doorknob for a moment, looking back over your shoulder - you can hear them panting, snapping jaws and flashing yellow eyes getting closer, all but feel the hot breath on the back of your neck. You throw yourself at the door again, and again, and again - and the lock breaks, the door swinging inward and slamming against the wall.
You quickly rush in and close the door, grabbing the nearest piece of furniture - a dusty old couch - and using it to barricade yourself in.
You scramble back away from the door, holding your breath for a moment. Your headlamp illuminates swirls of dust churning in the air, the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, and you slowly stand, turning to get a better look around the cabin.
There's a fireplace, a table, a few drawers - and firewood.
"Oh my god," you rush over to it, stacked all along the wall beside the fireplace. It's dry. It's perfect.
This place has been empty for a long time, a fine layer of grit and dust settled on everything, and the windows are wide and bare, the dark woods watching you through the glass.
You step back to the door and peer outside. You pull your headlamp off and drop it on the couch, cupping your hands over your face and pressing against the front window.
[[They're still out there. ->55]]<<run UIBar.stow(true);>><<run UIBar.hide();>>
<center><span style= "font-size: 115%;">[[ONE DAY HIKE ->START 01]]</span>
<small>by Kit H.J.</small></center>It doesn't come up on the porch, though. It stays back, pacing through the trees, just watching.
"Fuck you," you say under your breath, pushing yourself off the couch and turning back to the fireplace. You quickly get to work setting up the kindling, pulling a generous amount of logs from the wall and setting them inside. You also find some newspaper in one of the drawers, and you rip it into long strips and place it along the bottom of the fireplace with the kindling.
There has to be a flint, or matches here somewhere.
Your flint was in your bag.
You glare over at the window, as if the wolf could see your nasty [[look ->56]].Pulling out all of the drawers, you rifle around, throwing shit all over the place in your desperation.
"Please, please, please," you say, the familiar sting of tears burning behind your eyes.
You leave bloody handprints all around the cabin, but you don't bother with your arm right now. You need fire first. And if you're being honest, you don't want to look at it.
You hesitate at the last drawer, before jerking it open.
[[Matches. ->57]]"Fuck yes!"
It's a big, industrial pack of matches, and you hurry back over to the fireplace, dropping to your knees on the hearth.
Your hands are shaking as you attempt to light the match. There's blood all over the box, and it almost slips out of your grasp as you strike the match against it.
The flame bursts to life, and you guide it to the kindling, lighting various pieces of newspaper before dropping the match in the center.
You watch as the dry wood catches.
You kneel on the hearth, pressing your face to the floor for a moment, just feeling the heat as the fire spreads through the kindling. After a few minutes, you add a few of the heavier logs, and watch anxiously until those catch, too.
You forgot what it felt like to be [[warm ->58]].The small cabin heats up quickly, and soon enough you're sweating under your clothes.
You peel off your jacket, laying it out on the floor to dry.
You sit on the couch then, staring down at your arm. It takes you a long time just to take all your layers off, struggling with one hand, and the pain in your arm almost makes you vomit. When you finally mange to strip down to your sports bra, you have to rest a minute, before you reach for one of the shirts. You hold a piece of it in your mouth and rip both of the sleeves off.
You use another one of your damp shirts to try and clean the bite wound. You don't have any fresh water to dump on it, and you definitely don't have any first aid supplies. You do the best you can, and then you take the sleeves from the other shirt and bandage up your forearm.
[[Good enough. ->59]]You just sit for a while, letting yourself thaw out.
You should eat something, but you think if you tried it would just make you sick. And you don't have that much food left.
This is a test of [[endurance ->60]].You fall asleep on the couch like that.
You [[dream ->61]].You're running through the woods again.
You can hear the river - you can see the cabin.
You go through the familiar motions - sprinting across the clearing, jumping onto the porch, breaking open the door. You barricade yourself inside.
This time, though, there's someone waiting for you.
<<link '"Dina?"' '62'>><</link>>She's sitting at the table, staring over at you with her wide, dark eyes.
She stands as you sit, slumping back into the couch and clutching your bloody arm.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" you stammer, watching as she slowly walks over to you.
"What are //you// doing here?" she says softly.
You don't know.
Why did you come back here? You got out. You walked out of the woods once.
Dina never got that chance.
She sits on the couch beside you, and you take a long look at her. She looks the same as you remember. She's wearing that blue bandana with the orange flowers, her dark curly hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. You always liked when she wore her hair like that.
"I miss you," you say.
Dina gives you a sad smile. She reaches over and takes your bloody hand in hers.
And then she leans over and kisses you.
You're frozen for a moment, rigid on the couch as her lips touch yours. She quickly pulls back when you don't reciprocate, but you follow after her, muttering her name while your hand moves to tangle in her curls.
She kisses you again, her own hand tightening around yours, and you can feel her smiling as you press against her, just before she tilts her head and opens her mouth for you.
She [[tastes ->63]] like you remember.You pull back after a moment, Dina breathing hard, her other hand grasping at the back of your neck now as you start to trail kisses along her jaw.
She [[tastes ->64]] like you remember.You bow your head and press your tongue into the hollow of her throat.
She [[tastes ->65]] like you remember.Dina moans your name as your teeth scrape over her pulse.
She [[tastes ->66]] like you remember.There's no resistance from her, even as your teeth break skin.
She [[tastes ->67]] like you remember.The rush of blood in your mouth is metallic and sweet. Dina sighs, her head rolling back as you pull at her throat, her blood running hot between you, smearing across your face and down your chest. You pull her open, your hands shaking as you peel back the layers of flesh and fat and muscle, your hands shaking as you begin to eat. You stop only to look at her, to hold her face in your hands as you hungrily lick the blood off her chin - and then you lean back in, press your lips to the gore, slipping your tongue inside the mess you've made of her throat, feeling your name as she says it over and over again, thick and wet and sweet.
She [[tastes ->68]] like you remember.You wake up alone on the couch. It's light outside, the grey sky pouring in through the windows.
It's raining again.
You blink around the cabin, struggling to find your bearings, a splitting headache making your eyes water. Your mouth is dry and your tongue is thick and fuzzy, and you're [[hungry ->69]].You sit up, staring down at your arm.
In your hand is a blue bandana. Familiar orange flowers.
You jump to your feet, only to nearly collapse to the floor, staggering across the cabin and catching yourself on the table. It jumps under your weight, scraping loudly before halting on some uneven floorboard.
You lean across the tabletop, holding your arm out in front of you, clutching the bandana in your bloody hand.
It's real. It's in your hand.
[[You taste blood in your mouth. ->70]]Hunched over the table, you assess your arm.
You remove the blood-soaked sleeves, panting and sweating by the end of it.
It looks really bad.
You can hardly move your fingers any more, your hand swollen and stiff and turning black. You can see dark veins spreading from the bite on your forearm, and you're pretty sure that means it's infected. The blood and pus oozing out of it is a bit more obvious.
Nothing to do for it but cover it up.
You use the bandana as your bandage [[this time ->71]].Sitting at the table still, you look around the cabin.
[[You're really hungry. ->72]]You don't have a lot of food left.
You stand slowly, grimacing at the ache in your arm, before shuffling over to your clothes, strewn about haphazardly across the floor.
The fire has long since burned out, only embers in the ash now, but the cabin is still relatively warm. You can feel the cold starting to creep back in, but you can't focus on much else but your [[hunger ->73]].You empty your pockets.
A banana, three sandwiches, and two protein bars. You must have lost the jar of peanut butter, and one of the bananas, out in the woods.
It looks especially pathetic all laid out on the table. Should have taken more from the canister. How stupid of you to really think it would only be a one day hike.
<<link 'It\'s //never// only a one day hike.' '74'>><</link>>Your mouth waters as you pick up one of the sandwiches.
[[You're so fucking hungry. ->75]]You rip it from the bag, crouching over the table as you use both hands to shovel it into your mouth. You almost retch it back up, coughing and shaking as you struggle to chew the thing whole. The smashed, damp bread and the peanut butter cling to the roof of your mouth, and your eyes water as you force it down without anything to drink.
You reach for a second sandwich.
[[You're still hungry. ->76]]You eat that one in the same way, coughing bits of bread back up on the floor, before reaching for the final sandwich.
You eat that one, too.
And the protein bars.
And the banana.
[[Then you vomit on the floor. ->77]]You groan, collapsing to your knees and resting your head on the cold wooden chair. You're panting loudly, clutching your stomach, and you're still hungry.
You would scream, if you didn't think it would make you throw up again.
You sit on the floor for a while, listening to the rain.
But then it stops. [[And you see the sun. ->78]]You step out onto the porch on shaky legs, reaching for the old rotting banister to hold yourself up.
Once you feel confident, you descend the steps to stand in the light.
It feels good on your face, on your chest, on your bare shoulders.
You recall the smell of honeysuckles. The sound of cicadas.
[[Clouds on the lake. ->79]]Dina is leading you by the hand, crouched low as the two of you skirt around the lake.
You're supposed to be washing clothes in the lake.
You hate washing clothes in the lake.
Dina glances back at you with a wide grin, pulling you along. The boathouse is just down this trail.
She's been wanting to check it out for a while. You're not sure why - it looks pretty unimpressive to you. The wood is rotted, the dock is collapsing into the lake, and the canoes are all covered in mold and grass.
[[But you like to humor her. ->80]]She squeezes your hand before letting go as the two of you approach the open doors.
Dina is hard to read.
You've seen her be touchy with some of the other girls before. All of the other girls are touchy with each other; except you. They're afraid of you.
Except for Dina.
But she's hard to read. You get confused with her sometimes. You're afraid of crossing a line.
But you like to humor her.
So you let her hold your hand, you let her get you in trouble.
She almost always comes down to the lake when you're doing laundry. You are amazed at her ability to sneak around the place without getting caught.
Not to say she hasn't. There was a brief period of time where she wasn't allowed to be alone at all - an instructor or her therapist had to be with her at all times. Even in the bathroom. And then they put her in the yellow cabin - isolation.
It was [[scary ->81]].You've been to the yellow cabin, too.
[[You don't like to think about it. ->82]]Dina shields her eyes with her hand as she peers up at the old sign swinging from the boathouse.
It reads //The Boathouse.//
Fitting.
You watch as she slowly makes her way inside, testing the floor, before gesturing you to join her.
"If I fall through, I'm dragging you down with me," you joke, and she laughs.
You've noticed she likes to cover her mouth with her hand when she laughs. It's cute.
She takes your hand again and pulls you close as she tiptoes around the open water. There's an old, decrepit looking boat suspended overhead, swaying a bit as the two of you move around the house. Dina seems very interested in it.
"Do you think it still runs?" she asks.
You laugh, but then you realize she's being serious.
"What? No way. Look at it," you say.
She reaches out, leaning precariously over the water to touch it.
"Dina," you say, your hand tightening around hers.
She steps back with a sigh, shaking her head.
"I had a dream that we came here," she says then. "And we managed to get the boat in the water."
You wait for her to continue.
"It was a miracle. It was a dream. So it worked, once we got it in the water. It was so loud, and the instructors came running, but we peeled out across the lake. Up the river. Left this place behind," she muses.
She tilts her head at you, laughing just as she starts crying.
She leans back against the wall, letting go of your hand and sliding to the floor. The house shakes and the water churns beneath you.
You crouch down beside her, unsure of what to say.
<<link '"Dina..."' '83'>><</link>>She sniffles, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.
"I'm sorry," you say, and you sit back on the floor, crossing your legs in front of you, the water at your back.
She looks over at you then, her brow furrowed.
You realize you're crying, too.
She reaches out and takes your face in her hands, her palms hot and clammy, and then she's leaning forward, and you don't have the will to pull away.
Her lips barely touch yours, uncertain, both of you still staring at each other. Your breaths intermingle as Dina rocks forward, her knees knocking against yours, making you startle.
The water splashing beneath you sounds so loud.
You close your eyes when she kisses you the second time.
[[You don't hear the instructors coming until they're shouting your name. ->84]]You open your eyes, glancing back over at the cabin, the broken door creaking as a cold wind cuts through the trees.
The sun is gone, vanished behind the clouds again.
The wolf is watching you from the treeline.
[[You head back inside. ->85]]You have a hard time sleeping the second night.
The pain in your arm makes it hard to get comfortable. You're still hungry. You haven't had any water in... you're not sure.
You curl up on the couch, as best you can with your arm. You restarted the fire, too, though you've been sweating all day.
Maybe that's just the infection.
You find yourself on your back after a while, cradling your arm. Staring up at the ceiling.
You realize, quite suddenly, that you're probably going to [[die ->86]] out here.//So it goes//.
You sit up then, to do what, you aren't sure - but you notice something moving in the corner.
You freeze.
[[The wolf is watching you. ->87]]How did it get inside?
You're too afraid to move. If you move, it will certainly lunge across the room - it'll stop you before you can even stand from the couch.
[[It's just fucking watching you. ->88]]The night passes with you trembling on the couch.
It doesn't move, not once. Just watches, unblinking.
You fall asleep eventually. Against your will.
When you wake up, it's [[gone ->89]].You sit at the table and cry for most of the morning.
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[[This is a test of endurance. ->90]]You force yourself up around midday. You need water.
Checking out the window, you see no sign of the wolf.
The river isn't that far. You just have to get there and back again.
You push the couch out of the way and step onto the porch. First you decide to poke around the cabin and see if you can find anything decent to carry the water in. Your measly coffee cup isn't going to cut it.
Inspecting the porch, there's not much. A broken chair. A disintegrating cardboard box of extra kindling. Some old crusty rope.
You descend the stairs and check around back.
[[Bingo. ->91]]There's a messy clearing back here, no doubt where the previous inhabitant had been chopping all that firewood. You spot a rusty bucket beneath a nearby tree and you quickly swipe it up.
You see something else, too.
There's a large stump close to the house, and leaning against it is a maul.
And embedded at its center is a hunting knife.
You drop the bucket and struggle to pull the knife free. It's definitely seen better days, but it's also definitely better than your pocket knife. You manage to free it after a few moments, staggering back from the effort. You hook it into your belt.
Picking the bucket back up, you grab the maul, too, dragging it behind you and wincing at the loud //thumps// as you pull it up the three little steps onto the porch.
You set the maul inside by the door.
You glance around the cabin then, leaving the bucket on the porch and reaching for your [[new knife ->92]].You slowly creep across the threshold, approaching the corner where the wolf had been the night before.
You don't know what you expect.
There's nothing there.
Some piece of furniture, covered with a sheet.
You pull it off.
[[Your own reflection stares back at you. ->93]]You step closer, your eyes widening in shock at your appearance.
You look like shit.
Your face is covered in blood and mud, and your eyes are wild and bloodshot. Your red hair is greasy and stiff, the ends crusted from the same blood and mud on your face.
You lift your arm, and inspect that in the mirror, too. Dina's bandana is soaked through, and blood is smeared all the way up to your shoulder, and you see a spot on your upper arm where the wolf must have caught you with its teeth, a putrid little hole of gore oozing pus down to your elbow.
"Damn."
You drop your arm, tilt your head. Watch the way your hair falls across your shoulders. Your hair is the longest its ever been. You reach up and touch it, grimacing at the crusty texture.
Your [[hair ->93.01]] was always a point of contention with your mother.
Cutting it short was the final straw that made her send you out here in the first place.
She hated it.
After everything that happened, you let it grow out. You were afraid to cut it short again.
[[Dina liked your short hair. ->94]]You remember in high school, when you dyed it black at a friend's house.
Your mother forced you into the bathroom and she washed your hair and scrubbed your scalp until it bled.
She dragged you to a hairdresser the next day and made them dye it back to your [[natural color ->93]].The entire boathouse shakes as one of the instructors grabs you by the hair and hauls you to your feet.
The instructors always liked grabbing your hair. They never did it to the other girls - not their long, pretty hair.
Only you.
You can feel his nails in your scalp, hair ripping and skin breaking as he twists you around and drags you out of the boathouse.
He shoves you to the ground, restraining you as another instructor grabs Dina.
[[I don't want to remember this. ->95]]You stare at yourself in the mirror.
You ponder the knife in your hand, only for a moment, before you grab a fistful of your hair and raise the blade.
You cut it off.
You cut it all off.
It all falls to the floor. Pretty red locks.
Your hands are shaking. The cut is horrible. But it feels better.
[[You need to get water. ->96]]You stagger back out onto the porch, tucking your knife back into your belt.
Grabbing the bucket, you [[start walking ->97]].
When you reach the treeline, you wait.
You listen.
You don't see anyone - no instructors. You don't see those eyes.
You move quick, hurrying through the trees, back down the slope you crawled up a few nights ago.
The sound of running water makes //you// start running.
It was farther than you expected - you suppose you were in a bit of a panic when you came through here last time. It all blended together.
When you reach the river's shore you drop to your knees, the bucket clattering at your side. You plunge your hands into the freezing water, greedily scooping handfuls into your mouth.
You give yourself a headache from the cold, grimacing as you keep drinking.
You compose yourself after a minute of that, panting and drooling on your hands.
Then you wash your hands, the saliva and the mud and the blood turning the river dark. You wash your face. You do your best to wash your arm, but you don't bother taking the bandana off. The cold water leaves you red and purple.
You stand and start to fill the bucket.
You hear something move [[behind ->98]] you.You spin around with a shout, swinging the bucket of water in front of you and slamming the wolf right in the face.
It's thrown sideways, whimpering and snarling and snapping at the air as you scramble back, splashing into the freezing water.
When it tries to jump in after you, you smack it with the bucket again, though it's less effective with all of the water spilled out. Still, it buys you some time to stumble back up the shore and start running for the cabin.
[[You don't get far. ->99]]You're exhausted. You're dying.
You can't outrun a wolf.
It bites at your legs, tripping you up, and you're sent crashing into the dirt, a strangled yelp of pain as you once again fall on your arm.
You turn quick, onto your back, and you raise your arm just in time to stop it from going for your throat. You can hear Dina's bandana tear between its teeth, and you scream as it shakes its head, dragging you a few feet before letting go and trying for your throat again.
You weakly kick at it, raising your arm again.
Its jaws snap down again.
[[You reach for your knife. ->100]]It's a wolf. It's an animal, so it doesn't notice you pull the blade from your belt.
Doesn't notice you raise it over your head.
Doesn't notice it until you've buried it in its skull.
You pull back, and stab it again. And again. And again. You stab it in the mouth, in the eyes, in the side of the head. In its throat.
Eventually, it lets go.
You shove it off of you, tears and blood streaming down your face.
Clutching the knife in your hand, you turn and crawl back up the slope.
You crawl across the clearing, back up the steps, across the stoop. Back into the cabin.
[[You close the door. ->101]]You don't have the strength to move the couch. As soon as you remove your hand, the door starts to creak back open.
You don't care. You turn around.
You see the wolf in the corner.
No-
[[Just your reflection. ->102]]You push yourself to stand. You grab the maul by the door. You drag it across the floor, coming to a stop in front of the mirror.
Dina is standing behind you. Behind your reflection.
"I miss you so much, Dina," you say.
She smiles at you. You can see the tears in her eyes.
This place took her from you.
[[You raise the maul. ->103]]
ONE DAY HIKE//by Kit H.J.//[[The mirror explodes into a million little pieces. ->104]]The maul slams into the floor, embedding in the old wood.
You're breathing hard.
Releasing your grip, you leave the handle slick with blood. It's splattered on the floor, dripping from your fingertips as you walk back to the front door.
You stare out into the woods. The sun is out. You take a deep breath.
[[It's just one day's hike. ->BEGIN]]