8. EIGHT
EIGHT
brEE
Night bled into a day, shadows softening to light, yet I couldn't sleep. I wouldn't let myself. Every time I closed my eyes, the snowman came back. That image, her head perched on top, the blood staining white snow like a crimson halo. And her eyes. Wide, glassy, unseeing yet somehow always watching me. Just me.
Sleep was supposed to be the only place of escape for most, not mine, not anymore. The moment my eyelids shut, the flashes returned, memories I'd tried so hard to bury clawing their way back to the surface. The pain, the shame, all of it circled like vultures. So I kept awake, holding onto hope that as long as I kept my eyes open, they might leave me alone. But they always came back.
I saw him through the faint gray light. Snowman . He moved stealthily, carefully sealing the crack of the attic window with glass and putty. I watched him, my body still, my heart pounding. I knew how to escape if I wanted to. But I also knew that once I did, there would be no coming back.
The sound of footsteps pulled me from my thoughts. I turned, startled, to see Mel standing behind me. She looked small, and fragile in the light, her hands twisting nervously together.
"Bree," she whispered, shaking. "Can we talk?"
Her words caught me by surprise. For a while, I'd resented her silence, the way she'd appeared to pretend everything was all right, locking me out when I could have helped. Yet a part of me was just as relieved she'd stayed silent herself, looking after herself in what little way she knew of. And part of me hated myself for making her go to that place in the first place.
"Yeah," I said softly, turning my gaze back to the window. The glass was cold, fogging slightly with my breath as I tried to calm my racing thoughts.
She moved closer until her palm came to rest ever so lightly on my shoulder as if she needed to fix herself to the floor.
"Two years ago," she began in a watery tone, "do you remember anything?"
"Just pieces," I said, my throat arid. "Pain."
"I remember," she whispered, leaning in closer yet. "And now… I understand."
My chest tightened. I turned to her slowly, "Understand what?"
"What you did," she said softly, it was a dagger to the heart. "Why you did it," her voice broke and her sniffles caused her face to rise toward me. "I wish I did it too."
She slumped against me before a word could escape my lips, her sobs shattering the silence. I drew her close, wrapping my arms around her trembling frame as her tears drenched my shoulder. I could feel her trembling, her pain bleeding into mine.
"I had to," she managed to choke out. "I had to call for him. And if I didn't…" Her words fell away, lost amid the racking sobs shaking her frame.
I drew back, gently, and cupped her tear-streaked face with my bruised hand. "He… last night…?" I asked, my voice shaking, not wanting to know the answer.
She looked up at me with red, swollen eyes. "He did it again," she whispered, her voice cracking. "And I let him."
My heart stopped.
"What happened?" I managed to say, barely more than a breath.
She looked at me, her eyes dark with a truth that stole the air from my lungs. "Joe…" she whispered. "He's not our dad."
The words crashed over me like a wave, pulling me under. He's not our dad.
I was paralyzed, unable to move, or breathe. My arms dropped listlessly at my sides, numbing into oblivion. Everything around me began to blur together, swirling into a gray haze. My mind sought to make sense of it-to piece together the shards of a puzzle I didn't even know existed. But it was too much.
The memory of her arms around me was grounding, but then- footsteps. Heavy, growing louder.
Before I could react, I had felt her being ripped from me. I staggered forward, reaching for her, when I saw him.
Joe.
His dark eyes connected to mine, and not a thing showed in the blankness of his body language. Soulless, empty, blacker than the shadows surrounding him.
"That's enough of you two," he growled, his voice a sharp edge slicing through the air.
Mel screamed as he tugged her away, and I couldn't move, couldn't stop him. My feet were glued onto the floor, my body frozen. Then his attention fell on me. His face contorted in anger as he closed the gap between us. I hadn't time to move before his hand slammed me hard against the wall. A wave of pain coursed through my back, and the air was knocked from my lungs.
Joe wasn't Dad anymore. He was just Joe. And he was ready to hurt me.
My eyes locked on his, searching for something—anything—that might tie me to him. But there was nothing. Not his eyes, not his mouth, not the way his hair fell in dark coarse strands. There wasn't a single piece of him in me. My blood didn't belong to him. My body didn't belong to him. For the first time in my life, I understood that. And for the first time, I fought back.
My bruised palms connected with his chest with all the strength left in me. I pushed as hard as I could, hard enough to see the surprise flash across his features before he fell backward, landing on the floor with a thud. I was above him, my chest heaving, my body trembling, yet I didn't move. I couldn't anymore. Not for him.
He bared his teeth; his anger was simmering below his skin, like coals, but he said not a word. Slowly, he pushed himself up; his eyes were sharp, seething. Then he turned, his hand shooting out to grab Mel by the arm and yanking her up roughly.
"No!" she shrieked; her voice cracked. "Bree!"
"Shut up," he snarled and his palm met her face with a sickening crack.
She stumbled under the force of the blow, her cheek ballooning in an instant into red welts.
I flung myself at her, but he was quicker, towing her down the stairs along with him. I ran after them, my heart going crazy, but before I even reached them, the door slammed shut. A second later, the sharp click of the lock sounded through the attic like a death knell.
"No!" I screamed, my fists going against the wood. "No! Let me out!"
My voice cracked, my pleading now reduced to guttural sobs, but there was nothing. Just silence. Silence and the faint sound of their footsteps disappearing below, taking Mel with them.
I slid to the floor, my forehead against the door. My nightmare had finally come alive for real, more alive than all those flashes that plagued my dreams. Closing my eyes made it worse.
There, a woman appeared, a woman with golden hair, her soft silhouette stepping out of the shadows into the light. A memory, a dream, something buried deep enough that it felt unreal.
I had a family once; he took me away. And now he had taken Mel too.
I pulled back, palms digging into my scalp as it all crashed down. All the years of pretending, of forgetting. It was not survival; it was surrender. He had taught me to lie, to obey, to believe that nothing more but what he had molded me into existed. And each new town, each supposed escape, not a freedom; just another layer to the chain.
He hadn't just robbed me of my family. He had stolen my future. He had broken me into pieces, molding me into a scared, fragile girl who didn't know her own name or her own worth. But something snapped in me then. I was tired of being lost. I was tired of living half-dead, walking through a life that didn't belong to me.
He'd taken Mel, and I wouldn't let him keep her.
Tears streamed silently down my face, hot and relentless. "Oh, Mel," I whispered into the darkness. "Why us?"
No answer came. Because there was no reason. Some people are just born evil.
I heaved myself up, bruise after bruise screaming in protest. My ribs were sore to the touch with each agonizing breath. I refused to stop. I just couldn't. The attic seemed to be choking me. I had to get out. Immediately, my eyes went toward the window, the very place where he tried sealing me in. I felt the cracked glass and tugged the wooden spring until it gave. The glass released, and with one last heave, I pushed it out.
The cold air nipped my face as I stepped onto the slanted roof, my balance teetering, fingers aching while I held tightly to the edge. And there below was a ladder, so old and half concealed by thorny branches, but it was the only way out.
I let out a shaky breath and started to work my way down, slow step after slow step. Scratches tore at my arms and snagged at my clothes, but I didn't care. When my boots finally hit the ground, I exhaled a breath I hadn't known I was holding.
I turned back to the house; its dark windows seemed to stare back at me like empty eyes. I knew what I was supposed to do. I was supposed to lie down and die today. To give up. But I wouldn't. Not anymore.
"I'll ask him to return my life," I hissed to no one, sounding shrill and uneven, "and take someone else instead." With that, I ran. I didn't look back. The snow crunched beneath my feet as I sprinted into the woods, my breath escaping in short, ragged clouds. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew who I needed to find. The Snowman.
I walked an hour through the woods, though it felt like an age in the silence, the quiet snow crunching beneath each footstep, the light hum of water somewhere nearby breaking into the stillness. The sounds drew me deeper, speaking to me in a whisper as I approached the river's shore.
The water ran crimson red, jarring against the white snow around it. A scene out of a nightmare, felt like someone had painted the river in blood and let it stain the white world around it.
I moved closer, dropping to a crouch on the edge, my huff misting in the icy air. I dipped slowly into the water. For a moment my skin was shocked by the temperature, but still, as the water ran through my fingers, I understood. There was no blood. Cleaned, the water became just water over mud or rocks.
"There’s no blood here," I whispered, trying to make the words ring true. I probably wasn’t sure if I believed them or wanted to believe them.
There was a smooth rock in the river, much larger than the others, almost inviting. Smoothing my hair back, I took off my shoes and dipped a toe in them. The icy water shot right through it, and I shivered as something crawled up my spine. I let it slide anyway. The pain in my body was loud—the bruises reminded me of everyone I’d survived with.
One step, then another. The water numbed me, but I trudged forward until I reached the rock. In one quick, trembling movement, I leaned against it, first crouching before slowly relaxing to sit on my heels and let the stone warm my feet again. Then I sat still, the river whispering beneath me as if it held secrets that only it could understand.
"You're far away from home," a voice called from behind.
I whipped my head around, startled. Standing on the riverbank was a woman I recognized, the same woman I'd seen the first day we moved here. Her long hair was braided tightly and she held a thick rope in her hands, leading a black horse. Its breath misted in the cold air as it pawed the ground restlessly.
"I needed some fresh air," I said and swung my head back toward the river.
I could hear her approaching; the soft slapping of her horse’s hooves in the shallows announced their arrival.
"You good?" she squeaked, short of sleep, it seemed, as she ran her hand gently over the horse’s mane as habit had undoubtedly taught her.
"Yeah," I said, quite quietly, exhaling only so that the word might take some of the weight off me. Now I looked up, with quiet eyes watching her.
"You know the woods can be dangerous, right?" she said, spitting something onto the ground.
I nodded weakly and looked closer. Her hands were scarred, with round, rough-skinned marks that told of a lifetime of hard work. She pulled a cigarette from her pocket, lit it, and blew smoke into the air.
"It is impolite to stare, " she caught me.
"I'm sorry," I said quickly, and my gaze shifted away as the cold rose to my cheeks.
"No, you're not," she said, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "But it's okay. I'm used to it."
"I didn't mean to," I said again and with more sincerity.
Her eyes snapped to mine, sharp and knowing. "You apologize a lot, kid." She pulled on the reins, releasing the stirrup of her boot as she swung herself onto her horse in one smooth motion. The horse snorted and dismounted as she let it gallop slowly, steadily across the riverbank.
"You shouldn't," she said, looking back at me.
"Thanks," I muttered as she passed, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
Just as I had turned my head, her voice cut through the air once more, a little louder this time. "The woods get dark after five. You should head out before then."
"I will," I lied, continuing to look out over the river. She didn't press the subject. Her silhouette faded into the distance, horse and rider becoming a part of the forest until they were well out of sight.
I sat and remained where I was, perched on the rock in the middle of the river, staring into the crimson water that was only water, but still felt like something else. Something waiting.
I stood in front of the woods, staring into their dark expanse. Ten minutes seemed to be an eternity. With every blink, it was as if the trees stretched out wider, swallowing the horizon whole. The sun slid lower, its pale light fading as the shadows deepened. The air grew keener, colder. It nipped at my skin and made me shiver.
"This was a stupid idea," I muttered to myself, my voice barely a whisper against the wind.
Slowly, I got down from the rock. My bare feet hit the icy water, sending shivers running like a thousand needles through my body. I closed my eyes and willed my legs to move. Step by step, I made it to the riverbank where my shoes waited in the snow, half-covered in frost. I crouched down, reaching for them—Hands.
Hands came from behind and grabbed me, yanking me back with such force I gasped.
"No," I breathed, my voice catching in my throat.
And then I heard them—the voices. Their voices. Familiar. Mocking. The two boys from the woods two days ago. Josh and Vic. They were here. Waiting. Watching. Like shadows that followed me every time I stepped into this cursed place.
"Let me go!" I shouted, wrenching my body to the side. But it was no use.
Vic, the taller of the two, was spinning me around like a rag doll and pushed me to the ground. I went down hard, skinning my palms against snow and ice. His laughter was cold and mirthless.
"We came to finish what we started," he sneered, looking back at Josh.
I flailed around, reaching for one of my shoes, and I threw it with all my might. It hit Josh with full force right in the chest.
"Bitch!" he snarled, doubling over for a moment.
I didn't wait. I turned and crawled, my hands raking at the frozen ground. My knees plunged into snow, cold searing through, and yet I couldn't, wouldn't, stop.
A yank.
Vic had my ankle and was pulling backward. I hit the bottom with a dull thump, screaming, and kicking wildly in every direction, but only he was the one who laughed.
"Where you going?" he chided, tugging hard to draw me closer and closer to the river.
"Vic, man, let's have some fun," Josh said, his ginger hair catching the last light of the dying sun. He stepped closer, his grin wide, his thumb scratching absently under his nose.
"Thirsty?" he jeered.
Before I could do anything, much less let go, he stomped on my hand. It pinned painfully into the mud and snow, the crunch of bone echoing in my ears, and I screamed.
Then his hand was on the back of my head.
No.
The word never came out.
He shoved me. My face plunged into the river, the water racing over me, slamming me with its coldness, and stealing my breath. I gasped. My mouth parted beneath the surface, and immediately I inhaled mud and water. Red clouds swirled in front of me, I was clawing blind, arms pinned, Josh's knee weighting into my wrist.
Panic roared in my chest. My body fought instinctively, jerking and trembling, but I couldn't break free. My lungs were on fire. I screamed into the water, but no sound came, only bubbles that popped and vanished. This is how I die. The thought flickered in my mind while my limbs started weakening. He jerked me up then, suddenly, just as suddenly as he started. My head broke the surface, and I gasped, choking violently as my body heaved for air, water streaming from my nose and mouth. The cold sliced through me, but I couldn't focus on anything more than breathing.
Josh knelt in front of me, still grinning, as if this were a game.
"This is what you get when you scream like a bitch," he said, his voice keen with cruel humor. He sniffled loudly, his thumb still jerking beneath his nose.
I wanted to fight. I wanted to scream. And my body didn't want to listen; my limbs were heavy and numb as my sight swam.
"Do it," I heard Josh say in a low, eager voice. "We'll blame it on the serial killer. They'll believe it."
The words jolted through me like ice. I felt Vic's hands on me, yanking me backward across the snow. My arms were wrenched above my head, my body too weak to resist.
"Vic, do it!" Josh barked.
Vic straddled my arms, the weight of his body pinning me to the ground, pressing me like prey.
"We just want to warm you up," he laughed, the tone twisted and mocking.
I felt the tug at my coat, peeling away into shreds of fabric as his cold and wrong hands moved with precision to touch areas of my skin that created a very real, rather feral burn in places deep inside. A scream built up in my throat, and though I shook from its intensity, still I could not force my voice past a quaked whisper. My jeans slid, the chill in the winter air outside nibbled with icy morsels at my lower skin.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Darkness. I greeted it. I don't want to watch. I felt myself slipping, falling into a void where the cold couldn't reach me, where their laughter couldn't follow. Just for a moment, I let go. For a moment, I was gone. Today, I had a reason to live. But now, I had another reason to die.