by Mia Ford
Yet, I still wanted a purpose for feeling anything toward this woman. I didn’t owe her anything and she certainly didn’t owe me anything. What was the connection, that I apparently deemed important?
I wasn’t sure and if I couldn’t figure out a good enough reason, I knew that I was going to have to lose these thoughts and urges as soon as possible, or I was doomed.
This was another reason, an active defiance against my feelings.
“I hope the bastard fell into a trap and got eaten alive by a mountain lion,” I thought aloud and turned back toward the cabin.
Even though I had settled on not going after the man, I still found myself focusing on certain aspects along the area surrounding the cabin. I was painfully alert and found distracting potential of an intruder every couple of yards.
Thankfully, I was good at deciphering between animal and human, but I didn’t stop before ensuring that the sound Jake heard the night before really wasn’t anything to worry about.
Chapter 7:
Carrie
The large dog seemed to like me a lot. Even when his owner stomped out of the cabin, the dog chose to stay with me, which was comforting, in a way.
I was angry and upset over the argument that Johnathan and I had, and the dog seemed to know that.
I wanted to burst out in tears, first to let out the pent-up emotion that plagued me over exactly what had happened to me and second, because I was upset at the confrontation. However, I didn’t want to cry in front of the dog. While I wasn’t quite sure why that was, considering it was just a dog, I forced my emotion away, swallowing hard.
After Johnathan left, the dog picked his head up and stared at me with wide eyes. I grinned quietly at the dog before sighing.
Carefully, the massive dog picked himself up off the floor and sauntered over to me, before easily resting his head on the side of the bed.
He was so cute and strangely comforting.
I knew I probably shouldn’t touch the dog, but if he was going to attack me, I was sure he would have done it already.
Looking into the dog’s eyes, I couldn’t help but think that he seemed to understand that I was scared. His eyes were huge and for such a large animal, his eyes were gentle and kind.
Carefully, I reached out my hand, letting him smell me. He licked my hand carefully, before diving his snout under my hand, indicating he wanted me to pet him.
Cautiously, I stroked his head. His hair was soft and as I grew more comfortable with the dog, I felt some of my anxiety melt away.
I grinned, “Hi boy…What’s your name?”
At my excited tone, he started wagging his tail and raised up, revealing a tag.
Even though I was unsure of why I felt this way, I was surprised by seeing a collar and a tag, like a dog who lived in a suburban neighborhood, instead of deep in the mountains.
The bone tag was old and scratched but through the wear, I could make out the simple name: Jake.
“Hi, Jake,” I tried, which caused the dog’s tail to wag more, as he leapt up and licked my face. “Good boy!” I giggled, petting him as he nearly knocked me over, “Yes, who’s a good boy? You’re so friendly!”
Eventually, though, Jake settled back down, laying on the bed next to me, with his large, heavy head in my lap. I pet his head for a few minutes in silence before I started to talk to him again.
“So, what’s the deal with Johnathan? Does he hate me? Does he really think I’m as stupid as he claimed?”
Of course, the dog didn’t answer, but he did seem to be paying attention to me. His big eyes looked up at me, keeping my gaze.
There was something about the dog, as well as my current surroundings that was calming, almost welcoming.
I had never needed a lot and the preference I kept toward this dwelling proved that. Sure, it was a cabin. There was no denying the fact that there were no amenities in it, whatsoever. The fireplace truly seemed to be the only source of light and everything about the cabin was quaint. It was only one room, with everything but a bathroom. That was a small, closet-like space with a toilet, sink and shower crammed into what was obviously an addition.
However, despite the obvious lack of amenities, there was nothing that I found unsettling about the cabin. In fact, for a man, living in the middle of a mountain range with only his dog, the cabin was surprisingly well-kept. The floor was clean, the windows were washed and even the bathroom seemed to be tided on a regular basis.
There were some dorms at the college where I went that were far messier than this cabin.
While I found it strange, I would’ve found a disgusting residence far more unsettling.
I didn’t have much experience with serial killers, besides the psychological reference I was taught in my classes, I couldn’t believe that Johnathan quite fit the mold.
In fact, there was part of me that enjoyed the quiet space. I had thought that being in the mountains would give me peace, but it ended up being the most stressful experience of my life.
Yet, being right here, in the cabin with Jake, was surprisingly relaxing.
While I was angry with Johnathan, I wasn’t afraid of him.
Once I calmed down, I didn’t even blame him for reacting like he had. I figured that after everything he did, for me to accuse him of something like that wasn’t fair. I decided that when Johnathan returned, I would apologize for being so mean.
Intermittently, Jake and I would play, which was hilarious, watching him get over-excited when I would toss his stick as far as I could in the small area.
It was like watching a bear tearing through the cabin. Yet, he was careful not to lose control. No matter what I did, he was able to return the stick without hurting himself or anything in the cabin.
Eventually, though, I would get tired, as I guessed I was still healing quite a bit. When I did, the dog would climb up on the bed with me and lay down.
We may have napped for a little while, but for the most part, he just stayed by my side, comforting me.
When Johnathan returned, I could tell right away that he was much calmer.
As he entered, Jake pulled his head up off my lap to stare at him, as though he disapproved of him being gone for so long. Although, after the initial scowl, he placed his head back on my lap.
“Well, somebody found a friend,” Johnathan grinned, now trying to be more hospitable.
“Yes, he’s been very comforting,” I replied, affectionately stroking his large ear.
“Yeah, for the most part, he’s a big mush. He’s a good protector, but you’d never know it unless you’ve seen him in action.”
“Oh, I believe it. I grew up around dogs. I get it,” I answered.
“Sorry I was gone so long. I was doing a perimeter check…” His voice trailed off there, though I wasn’t quite sure why until I noticed that the pack he was carrying looked extremely familiar.
“Is that mine?” I asked, not sure if I really wanted to know the answer.
“Yeah, I think so,” he replied, dropping it next to the bed. When I looked up at him, his grin returned as he added, “At least you have a change of clothes now.”
“Thank you,” I replied, not quite sure what to think. Of course, I was happy to have my belongings back, but I couldn’t understand why he was at the campsite. “This included a pretty big perimeter,” I retorted.
“Yeah, I like to be thorough,” he replied in a cool tone, not even bothering to take the bait, though I was sure he recognized it.
“So, did you find anything else? In your perimeter check?”
“No,” he insisted, though his jaw tightened angrily, and I got the sense he was lying. Yet, from the darkness that swirled in his eyes, I wasn’t about to question him.
At this point, if he had killed the man who attacked me, I couldn’t say I would be particularly upset about it.
If he had, I supposed I wouldn’t have to worry about him coming after me again, but then again, that would also mean I was still trapped in the mountains w
ith a murderer.
So, between the two, I knew when I felt better, I would prefer not to be trapped with a murderer, even if the other psycho was still running free.
“Well, thank you,” I offered, “For bringing my stuff back to me. I really appreciate it.”
He shook his head curtly, “I thought you might want it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to save your tent…”
Flashbacks of feeling trapped as I tried to go through it, attempting get away from the guide tore through my brain. I shook my head, to get the image out of my mind, but quickly covered my strange reaction with a comment, “No, I know. It’s fine. The bag is much more important.”
Jonathan stared at me, as though he was about to comment on my strange reaction but decided against it at the last moment. Instead, he didn’t respond. He just went about his business, so I started to go through my things, seeing exactly what was there.
In a way, looking at the clothes and the things that I had packed before my whole world was flipped upside down was odd.
It almost felt as though I wasn’t even looking at my belongings. It felt as though this belonged to someone else, who simply had the same style and size as I did.
For the first time since this whole ordeal happened, I finally realized the enormity of it. I thought about what happened and what could’ve happened, if Johnathan wasn’t there to help me.
I felt my breath quiver with fear, as I glared down at the brightly-colored, summer clothing that I wasn’t sure I would ever want to wear again.
I stared at the clothing, I guess for an obnoxiously long time, contemplating how long it would take for me to actually feel like myself again.
“That is yours, right?” Johnathan asked me, breaking the morbid, disturbing connection I was creating with the outfit in my hand.
“Yeah. It’s mine,” I answered, though my voice seemed far away.
At first, the man seemed as though he was contemplating going about his business, but the tone of voice that accompanied my response caused him to turn back around.
“Okay, what is it?” He asked, sitting down on the chair across from me.
“What do you mean?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what he was referring to.
“You’re looking at that shirt like it’s going to attack you. I don’t want to care, but I’m involved, so what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s…just…I never liked this shirt,” I lied.
“Oh, bullshit,” he insisted, which caused me to perk up a little, surprised by his harsh reaction, though I felt I should be used it by now. “You and I both know that the shirt triggered something. So, you should probably talk about it.”
“You don’t want to hear about it,” I replied, “It’s probably nothing.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to hear about it, but that’s because I’m a selfish dick. Right now, I’m asking you about it, so you should tell me, and I will try my best to give some advice.”
“Why should I tell you if you don’t want to talk about it?”
“Because, right now, by some strange twist of fate, I’m all you have, so speak.”
I made a face at him, narrowing my eyes slightly, “You don’t have a very good bedside manner.”
“You think I don’t know that?” He hissed, “Another thing I know, is that you’re trying to get off subject, so you don’t have to talk about whatever is bothering you and I’m not going to let you do that, so talk.”
I grinned, feeling slightly silly, having been caught. Even though he was rough and, as he said, kind of an asshole, I couldn’t help but be attracted to him.
He angered me…a lot and I couldn’t decide if he was crazy or just didn’t care about anything, like his attitude suggested, but below all of that, everything he seemed to do was for the right reason.
For instance, I knew that he had gone out of his way to find my pack for me. I wasn’t sure why he had done it, or if that was his plan when he walked out the door, but he didn’t have to do that.
He also didn’t have to help me, but he did.
Now, he didn’t have to force me to talk about what was bothering me, but apparently, he wasn’t going to let it go until I spoke up.
This man was so strange, but equally intriguing.
So, after a long moment of silence, I decided I would tell him and see if it made a difference, “It just seems…strange. I mean, it’s just a shirt, but looking at it makes me angry and sad.” I stared down at the shirt, trying to find the right words to explain my feelings. “Part of me, is angry and never wants to see it again, because it was with me when it happened, but part of me, feels like this isn’t even my shirt.”
Johnathan nodded, “That’s because it isn’t. Not really. Not anymore.”
My eyes cautiously, wandered over to meet his gaze, wondering if he was going to springboard his comment into some cruel joke, but to my surprise, he was staring right back with a serious expression.
Leaning in closer to me, Johnathan folded his hands in front of him and spoke slowly, as though he was contemplating what he as saying, before forming it into words.
“When people go through traumatic events, especially like what you went through, it changes them. People can say that it doesn’t but they’re full of shit. They either become stronger, or they succumb to it, but either way, they are never the person they were before it happened. So, it makes sense that you don’t feel like yourself. Unfortunately, you might never feel like yourself ever again…At least not the way you felt before last night.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like this was the first bad thing to ever happen in my life,” I admitted, as a thought crossed my mind about why I had come out here in the first place.
Johnathan shrugged, “Yeah, but when that other stuff happened, you had other people, other familiar things to hold on to. Now, you have a fucking shirt. That shirt didn’t protect you. It didn’t help you. Hell, you weren’t even wearing it when it happened, so it didn’t even go through the ordeal with you. It did nothing for you, but right now, that is all you have of your old life to hold on to.”
I contemplated what he said for a moment, internalizing the advice he was giving me, before I turned to him and asked, “So, what do I do?”
“That’s entirely up to you, Carrie. You can hold onto it, pull strength from who you were through it, or you can burn it,” he shrugged, “Not that I care what you do about it, but I would hold onto it for a little while, if I were you, because these are all the clothes you have left.” He sighed and then asked, as though we hadn’t shared any kind of a moment, “So, are you hungry, by any chance?”
At first, I was caught off guard by the abrupt change in subject, considering it felt as though we were garnishing something of a connection. He was genuinely trying to help me. His advice was solid, and it gave me the impression that he knew what I was talking about.
Obviously, he had something screwed up happen to him. I thought but was still impressed by the idea that he was able to put it into words. Most men either wouldn’t do that or were simply incapable of such a feat.
“Yes, I am pretty hungry, actually,” I eventually replied, once again realizing the sensation as soon as it was suggested to me. Despite the randomness, he did have a point. It was time to eat, so I guessed that was his way of staving off having such a meaningful conversation.
I was okay with that.
“Good. I’m glad you have an appetite,” with that, Johnathan turned toward the fire and took the same pot off the stove, pouring the contents into two bowls. “Sorry about the food. I make stuff in bulk and eat it until it’s gone. There’s really no great refrigeration system up here, without electricity.”
Just like that, my therapy session was over.
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, as he handed me one of the bowls, “It tastes good and I’m starving.”
For a while, we ate in silence. I wanted to speak to him, especially since it seemed like he was far more open to the prospect of hav
ing a normal conversation. However, I wasn’t quite sure what to say.
So, instead of speaking, I focused on him, while trying to avoid being overly creepy or weird.
Whenever he wasn’t looking, I would study his face and his mannerisms. I could tell right away, that he hadn’t always lived up here. He knew how to live among people. He wasn’t socially awkward.
Actually, I found that he was fairly confident. Everything he did, he had a reason. I wasn’t sure why I knew this or thought this about him, but I was certain that I was right.
Through my spying, I also noticed that under the roughness of the man who lived in the mountains, there is something normal and traditionally attractive about him. He wore his mountain man look well but I guessed that underneath all of that hair and tattered clothing, there was a truly astonishingly striking man.
I thought about the dream and my cheeks reddened, not wanting to admit that the more time I spent with him, the more interested I became in knowing him.
“You were right, you know,” I finally spoke when, halfway through the meal, the silence was getting overwhelmed by my own, confused thoughts.
“About what, exactly?” Johnathan peered up from his bowl and locked eyes with me before the corner of his lip twitched up in a grin and his eyes sparkled with humor, “I’m right quite a lot. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”
