Chapter Four – Thea
Chapter Four
Thea
My heart was hammering in my chest. Thump. Thump. Thump. I could barely breathe. I squeezed my knees to my body, the muscles in my back and arms so tense that I was getting cramps. I knew I had to get up and shake off the panic and terror, but I couldn’t convince myself to move. My brain was sending signals to my limbs, but everything in me refused to comply.
I was sitting on the ground, surrounded by trees and bushes. I could hear the whispers of the forest, raw and organic, and that caused me to let out a sob. If I let my mind obsess over what was around me – trees and dead leaves, dirt and all the critters that lived in the dirt – it was over. I had to distract myself, but how?
This had been a bad idea. I couldn’t be here. I wasn’t made for the outdoors. It was more than the fact that I just didn’t like being outside; I was terrified of nature. Biophobia was a real thing. My therapist had told me so. Sudden and violent exposure to the thing that terrified me the most wasn’t going to cure me.
“Okay, but I’m here now,” I whispered to myself. “I can’t go back. Can’t back down. I have to do this. I said I would, and I have to. Matthew is counting on me. Mom and Dad are counting on me.”
I wondered... Had I told them about my phobia, would they have understood? Would they have protected me?
There was no point in thinking about that now. What was done was done. I’d said yes to Soren Sinclair and his challenge, and now I had to deliver. I had to prove myself. Prove that my word meant something, and that I was an Everhart, after all. Maybe when we got married, he would respect me for what I was doing now. If there was no love between us, at least there would be respect, and we could make it work.
I uncurled my body, stretching slowly, giving my muscles a chance to relax. I looked up at the sky. It was barely visible through the canopy. It must’ve been afternoon, so I had to start moving again if I wanted to make any significant progress. I should’ve eaten something, but I wasn’t hungry. Anyway, I’d lost my backpack. For a minute, I considered going back to look for it, but what if I ran into the bear cub and its momma again? I couldn’t risk it. But if I didn’t risk it, that meant I would starve.
Unwilling to let these dark thoughts overwhelm me, I looked at the ground. My boots were muddy. My pant leg was dirty too, and I brushed it off with my gloved hand. That was when I saw it.
An ant. A big, black, fat ant crawling up my pant leg. My blood froze, and for a second, I didn’t know what to do. I simply watched the creature move up, up, up towards my knee.
“No. No-no-no... I can’t...”
I brushed the ant off, letting out a sob. I didn’t see where it fell. I jumped to my feet and inspected my pants thoroughly. I was certain the ant was still on me. It was as if I could feel it. My skin started crawling, as if I was covered in ants, as if they’d found their way underneath my clothes, even though I knew it was impossible. My pants were tucked into my boots, and every inch of my skin was covered, up to my chin. As hot as it was, I’d opted for a turtleneck. Better safe than sorry. Only my face was exposed, and my hair. I would’ve worn a hood, but I didn’t think I’d be able to breathe if I were completely covered. It was the middle of summer, after all.
“Okay, I have to keep moving. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
I turned around, wondering if I should’ve gone looking for my backpack. There was no way I could make this journey without my provisions. Or without the sleeping bag I had packed. This was only the first day, and I was already losing my head, doing everything wrong. I shouldn’t have run when I saw the big bear. That was stupid. Any idiot knew you weren’t supposed to run when you saw a bear. But my flight instinct had taken over, and the moment I panicked, all reason was lost. It was as if I wasn’t human anymore. I was a small, pathetic animal running from a predator.
I took a few steps and tripped over something. I looked down and couldn’t believe my eyes. There it was. My backpack. Waiting right at my feet. I blinked, confused, then reached down and inspected it.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” I told the backpack, as if it could understand me.
It was a bit dirty, but undamaged. I brushed it off, then opened it and inspected its contents. It was all there. Shaking my head in astonishment, I took out my water bottle and drank a bit. I could’ve sworn I’d lost it while running from the bear. It had snagged on a branch, the straps had slipped down my arms, and then it had somehow gotten stuck. So stuck that pulling at it hadn’t helped.
Now, here it was. Back with me, like it had followed me or something.
But that wasn’t possible, which meant I’d hallucinated the whole thing. Sheer panic had made me bolt when I saw the bear, run, then imagine losing my backpack. I tried to retrace my steps in my head, remember what I did between seeing the bear emerge from the bushes and ending up here, curled up into a ball. Nope. I was still convinced I’d lost it. Except I hadn’t... I was looking at it, holding it by one strap.
Dwelling on it was pointless. My skin was crawling with invisible ants, and I had to get moving. If I exerted myself walking, maybe that would distract me from feeling like I was covered in the black, scary insects. So, that was what I did.
The forest floor was tricky to navigate. Fortunately, I didn’t have to use my hands to push away branches and brambles. It was weird, because from afar, it seemed like the path was dense with vegetation and hard to negotiate. But as I walked, it turned out to be not that bad.
I crossed another clearing, and I was just glad I didn’t come across another bear cub. The trees were tall all around me, and birds were chirping happily, jumping from one branch to another. Anyone else would’ve been enchanted by the whole experience. Not me. I still didn’t know how I was going to survive in the wilderness for three days, all on my own.
I heard running water in the distance. I followed the sound and came by a stream. It was babbling as it tumbled over shiny rocks. It wasn’t too deep, which meant that I could cross it easily. I knelt, removed my gloves, and dipped my fingers into the cold water. It felt refreshing. I splashed some water onto my face and let out a satisfied sigh. Finally, my body relaxed a little.
I felt something crawl up my calf, underneath my pants, and I gritted my teeth. It was so hard to convince my brain that no, it wasn’t an ant. There were no ants. The more I tried to reason with my own mind, the more I felt like my skin was crawling with tiny insects.
The water was going to soothe me. All of me. I was completely alone, so I didn’t hesitate to slip out of my turtleneck sweater, my pants, and my boots. I made sure to fold my clothes and place them neatly on a shiny rock that showed no trace of dirt, then slowly stepped into the stream. It wasn’t easy to do, but I kept telling myself this was water, and water was clean. It was going to clean me and get rid of the crawly feeling on my skin.
I had to do something to reset my frayed nerves.
The water was freezing cold, and so refreshing that it brought clarity to my phobia-riddled brain. It was exactly what I needed.