4. FOUR
FOUR
brEE
The loud thud got me up from bed, my heart sprinting, as I swiftly sat up. The room was dark except for the thin slice of moonlight that spilled across the other bed. Mel's bed. But it was empty.
"Mel?" I called out softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Mel?"
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my feet slapped against the cold wooden floor. The wheelchair was kept alongside her bed, but she was gone. My stomach twisted. Mel hadn't been able to walk for two years… how could she have disappeared? Where would she go?
Another thud beyond the door cut into my thoughts like a knife. I moved as quietly as I could to the door which was slightly ajar. My fingers brushed the edge, and I peeked out. The living room stretched before me, empty and only dimly lit by moonlight that seeped from the window.
I pushed the door open and stepped out, my toes barely making a sound as they hit the floor. I breathed shallowly, every muscle in my body was strung taut as I moved toward the center of the living room. The fireplace still flickered softly, dancing shadows upon the walls. Something was wrong and it felt thick in the air, something I just couldn't put into words.
Then I saw her.
Mel stood at the top of the staircase, her white dress aglow in the soft shine of the fire. My breath caught. She was pale, her lips all but colorless, her face drained of its usual warmth. Her eyes were fixed on the front door, unblinking as if she were waiting for something.
"Mel?" I whispered, my voice shaking.
She didn't answer, didn't make a move. Slowly her hand rose, her sparrow-like fingers extended pointing towards the window.
My eyes followed her motion. There, just beyond the glass, stood the snowman I saw earlier. Its carrot nose glimmered weakly in the moonlight, but something about it made my skin crawl. The snowman was… finished now. It hadn't been before. I didn't know how I knew that, but I just knew it.
I returned to the stairwell, but Mel was no longer there.
"Mel?" I whispered louder, "Where did you go?"
Above, the creak of measured, light footfalls sounded. I made my way up the steps slowly and felt my heart racing strongly inside my body. A door that was slightly open at the far end of the corridor led toward the darkness of the attic.
"Mel?" My voice shook the word out, barely audible.
I pushed the door open, and the narrow staircase leading upwards appeared in the opening. The wood groaned under my steps and seemed deafening while I walked up. Dark from above grew closer and closer, and then, suddenly without a warning, the door banged shut behind me.
Panic surged through me. I turned, ready to scream, but a large hand clamped over my mouth before I could make a sound. Another hand wrapped around my waist, lifting me with ease off the floor. I thrashed, my arms and legs flailing, but the grip was so strong.
"Hello, birdie ," a deep, gravelly voice whispered in my ear. "Don't fly away." His voice was low, almost playful, but beneath it lay a menace that froze the blood in my veins.
Every fiber in my body was screaming that this was the man from the woods, the one I had feared might come, and now he was here holding me in his arms.
He lifted me up the last steps like I was nothing but a feather, my struggles barely registering. And as we reached the top, he spun me around to face him.
His hand was still clamped firmly over my mouth, silencing me, while his icy blue eyes bored into mine. They were the only part of his face I could see through the white plastic mask he wore. The mask was plain, a bone-white oval, except for the eyeholes that revealed those piercing eyes. There were no contours for a nose or mouth, just a blank, faceless plastic that hid his face from mine.
There was something in the way he looked at me like he was searching for something, trying to see if I could see through him the way he was seeing through me. The world seemed to fade around us, the room growing silent except for the sound of my ragged breathing.
"I'll let you go if you promise not to scream," he whispered, close to my face.
My heart thundered within my chest, and I wanted to scream, to fight, but I was more afraid of waking my father than anything this stranger might do. So I simply nodded, moving my face gently, slowly.
His grip on my mouth loosened, but his hand remained there, an implied presence ready to return if the promise was broken. For a moment neither of us did anything but breathe; our silence pulled taut as stretched rubber on the verge of snapping, fragile and close to breaking altogether. His eyes never left mine, and for that minute, I knew he was not done with me yet.
"Who are you?" I whispered, shaking, taking a step back, trying to put some distance between us.
"Nobody," he said calmly, almost detached, as he moved closer.
"Why are you here?" My feet instinctively receded another step backward.
"Curiosity," he said simply and took another step closer to me.
"Are you the man from the woods?" I'd not gotten the question out before my back slammed against the wall, stopping me cold.
"Yes," he said, now close enough to dominate the air between us. His hand slammed against the wall beside my head, followed by the other, boxing me in. His arms formed a cage I couldn't flee. Trapped, like a birdie , he called me.
He leaned his head to one side, scanning my face as though he would find something there. His eyes roamed over me, searching for some sort of story my body might tell—scar, mark, clue—but there was nothing. Just pale, plain me. I felt exposed under his body as if he were peeling back layers I didn't know I had.
"Your eyes," he whispered, his voice softer now. His gaze snagged onto mine, and I turned my face away, but his gloved hand caught my jaw. Gently tilted my face back toward him. His eyes locked tirelessly into mine, the ice melting into the ocean.
"What about my eyes?" I asked, trying to veil my fear with defiance.
"Ocean blue," he growled a low whispered rustle of words against my lips. I could feel his breath through the mask. "I found my favorite color."
Goosebumps spread over me, a shiver running down my spine. His words hung in the air, turning them into an emotion I couldn't quite explain, one that touched something deep inside of me. My heart pounded against my chest, with a savage rhythm of fear and something else altogether.
"Let me go," I whispered, the pleading not even audible over the loud hum of my pulse.
"Fine," he said, stepping back. The sudden loss of his proximity was almost dizzying. "I will, birdie. Just for now."
He spun on his heel and began walking toward the stairs slowly, almost carefully. When he reached the middle of the staircase, he paused, his head angling slightly, though he didn't turn back.
"What is your name?" he inquired. His voice carried well in the still air.
"What's yours?" I shot back, surprising myself by the boldness in my tone.
A low rumble of a chuckle escaped him. "I'll let you figure that out," he said, still in amusement as he continued down the stairs.
The moment his footsteps began to fade, I couldn't help it, "Bree," I whispered, the name passing my lips before my better judgment could stop me. "My name is Bree."
He didn't say anything, didn't turn back. He just walked through the door and shut it behind him, as if he had never been there at all.
For a while, I stood, caught by the silence, a load pressed against me. But a deep frustration boiled inside me, and with the palm of my hand, I hit my forehead twice.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I muttered under my breath.
Why did I give him my name? How could I be so careless?
"Fuck," I hissed, dropping down the wall until my ass hit the floor. My head dropped into my hands, my fingers digging deep into my scalp.
"Fuck," I whispered again.
I had always done this. Acted on impulse, and dug myself into holes without a second thought. But this was different. This wasn't one of those mistakes I could shrug off.
This man in his mask, his eerie calm, walking into my house as if he owned it as if he belonged here, and the worst of it, the way he made me feel, not just afraid, but deeper, more unsettled. I needed to stop this, whatever this was before it reached the point of no return.
I opened my eyes, and gray was the first color of morning. It filtered through the glass of the window down to me. The familiar outlines of my bedroom surrounded me, the faint smell of dust and wood settling into my senses. For a while, I thought I must have just dreamed it all— noise, Mel standing on the stairs, the stranger up in the attic. That all felt so distant, like any memory seen through frosted glass. But the chill that ran down my spine told me otherwise.
I pushed the blanket off and got up, turning to the woods beyond the window. The trees stood perfectly straight, their limbs bare and brittle against a winter sky. There was nothing to show he had ever been there, nothing to show anything existed. Just silence.
By the time I turned my head in the direction of Mel's bed, she was wide awake, staring in some direction.
"Mel," I whispered, crossing the room to kneel beside her. "You're awake." I brushed a strand of hair away from her face, my fingers trembling slightly.
Her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, but for a moment, I could have sworn I saw the faintest flicker of recognition in her gaze. I opened my mouth to continue, but the faint hum of voices from the other room caught my attention and drew it away.
I stood and, silently moved toward the door. The whispers were low but distinct enough to outline the edges of their conversation. My parents. There was tension in their voices that churned my stomach.
"She walked last night," my mother said, her voice strained with urgency. "Bree can't find out."
"If she knew." her voice quavered, with almost a begging note to the words.
"Stop it, Laura," my father snapped, his whisper sharp. "I won't let it happen. And stop fucking pretending. I'm sick of it."
There was a silence; then his voice came again, lower but no less harsh. "Bree's nineteen now. We should have gotten rid of her a long time ago."
I reeled back from the door, the words hit like a blow.
Rid of me?
The words cut clear in my head, sharp, cruel. My breath snagged in my throat, and before I knew it a tear slipped down my cheek. They wanted me gone. All this time secrets and hiding things; now this? The overwhelming urge to run grabbed at me, yet it was the thought of leaving Mel behind that glued my feet to the spot. She was the one I wouldn't leave. Not her.
I ran back to Mel's bed and fell onto my knees on the cold floor beside her, my hands clenching her thin shoulders. "Mel?" I whispered urgently. "Mel, can you hear me?"
Her eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling, "blink twice if you can, please," I whispered.
My heart sank until, slowly, she blinked once. Then again.
Relief washed over me. She could hear me. She was still there.
"Can you walk?" I whispered, shaking.
Her eyes blinked once.
No?
The words were no sooner out of my mouth than the door flew open, and my head snapped back up. My father filled the frame, his expression neutral, almost too calm. His presence ran ice through my veins.
"Morning," he said, his eyes darting between us.
"Morning," I replied. My voice was flat, my body stiff.
"Laura made you breakfast. Get Mel ready and come eat," he said, his tone almost unnervingly casual. Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
As soon as he was gone, I turned back to Mel. Again her eyes moved, blinking twice this time.
"You can walk," I whispered, more statement than question.
Her eyes blinked once, in slow motion.
No? What does she mean?
I sat back on my heels, my mind racing. There was something I wasn't seeing, something they weren't telling me. All my life, I'd been the "crazy one," the one no one believed. I'd learned to play my part, to keep my suspicions hidden behind the mask of the shy girl they thought I was. But now, the cracks in their perfect world were showing. Something was going on, something I couldn't just turn a blind eye to anymore. And this time, I wasn't going to pretend.