by Sophie Stern
It's too dark to run, but I walk as quickly as I can. I'm tired, I'm sad, and I'm lonely, but I keep going. I have to. I try not to think about my dead grandmother or how I've lost the last of my family. I try not to think about her last words to me or the letter I have in my pocket from her that serves as a reminder of her love for me.
The only thing I have to look forward to now is death, but I won't go down without a fight.
I can't.
I owe Grandma that much.
***
I walk until I’m out of breath. Then I keep going. Just a little bit further, I tell myself. The darkness can’t hurt me. The woods aren’t full of big, angry bears.
Or big, angry brothers.
The little noises that fill the air around me aren’t that big of a deal. They aren’t that bad. Everything is going to be okay. I’ll be just fine.
The lies float through my head before they vanish forever.
I can whisper all I want, but my heart knows these promises are empty.
Nothing will ever be all right again.
The time for “okay” has come and gone. I might be able to move forward, but it’s as a shell of a person. My heart will never be whole again.
Is this why people always say death causes you to reevaluate your life?
The loss feels like someone carved out my soul.
My need to survive collides with my sadness and I cry as I walk, stumbling forward. The woods are basically empty. At the very edges, there are signs of camping or picnics. I see some trash and stumble around a few abandoned water bottles, but once I’m 100 yards in, it’s just me and the wildlife.
No people.
No one to hear me cry.
My feet hurt as I walk, reminding me that I left my good hiking boots in my duffel bag. My Converse might be stylish, but they suck for walking. They were the only shoes I had in my car, so they’ll have to suffice.
I try to coax myself into going deeper into the woods despite the darkness. I don’t know how long it will take Jeffrey to realize he just has to search the woods for me. Surely he doesn’t have any memories of Grandma’s cabin, but I can’t be certain. If he finds me once I’ve reached it, there’s always the chance I’ll have managed to get the old hunting rifle to work.
Otherwise, I’m dead.
He can’t find me before I reach the cabin. He just can’t. If there’s one thing I know about my brother, it’s that he’s a vicious man who only cares about one thing: money. He likes to have it and he’ll do anything to get it. He’s always been this way. How did we turn out so differently?
We may have had different fathers, but from what I saw, my birth father loved Jeffrey as his own. He would have done anything for him and he often did.
I feel a bit sick as I think of the way he shifted in Grandma’s kitchen. He changed just enough to let his claws out, just enough to slice through her delicate skin. I think of the way her eyes locked on mine and she shook her head, just slightly, just enough to let me know I needed to stay hidden.
She was trying to save me.
My brother is nothing if not completely paranoid.
I can’t help but wonder how our lives would be different if our parents hadn’t died, but there’s a time and a place for reminiscing, and it’s not while walking through animal-infested forests.
Each time I hear a sound, I jump. What’s lurking for me in the darkness today? Does door number one have ghosts or ghouls? What about door number two? Goblins or witches? I force myself to keep moving even though each noise has me cringing. Tears threaten to pour over and I finally realize that it’s time to stop for the night.
I’ve come as far as I possibly can.
I find an oversized oak tree with big ol’ branches and I climb up a little ways. Sleeping in a tree overnight seems stupid. Sleeping on the ground seems stupider.
I use rope from my bag to tie myself loosely to the tree. I plan to sleep sitting up with my legs on the big branch, but if I accidentally slip, this will ensure I wake up before I’m able to fall. I put my knife in my front pocket. If I need to get out of here quickly, I’ll cut through the ropes. I don’t have time to deal with untying them in a pinch. My knife will work just fine.
Goodness knows it’s sharp enough.
I lean against the trunk of the tree and close my eyes. I try to relax. Deep breaths: in and out, in and out. Only, no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop my brother’s face from popping into my head. I can’t stop the images of my grandmother’s body. I can’t stop imagining that somehow, somewhere, Jeffrey is going to find me.
I can’t stop thinking of my brother killing me for my inheritance.
I sit in the tree, bark scratching into my back, for what feels like hours. I hear howls. There are wolves in the woods, I know, but there can’t be many. How many could really be in a place like this? My grandmother used to say they were more afraid of me than I was of them, but I know that’s a crock.
Even grandma was scared of the wolves, though she never really told me why. We both knew Jeffrey was a shifter. I figured it out as a teenager even though my mom kept it a dark secret. I don’t think my dad ever knew.
I don’t think he wanted to.
It’s not a full moon, but the howls continue into the early hours of the morning. Somehow, before the sun comes up, I manage to fall asleep sitting up in the tree.
In my dreams, I’m running from my brother. I’m running from him and the other wolves and no one can save me. I open my mouth to scream, but there is only silence. Nothing comes out of my mouth. I can’t make a sound. Moving as quickly as possible, I run until my legs collapse, and then they take me.
I wake covered in sweat and cut myself loose.
There will be no more sleeping in trees for me.
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