16. Teddy
SIXTEEN
TEDDY
“So…I need to borrow your car. Today. Preferably the beginning of lunch.”
Cash raises an eyebrow, leaning his shoulders against the locker next to mine. Per usual, I’ve already spotted Eden, and can relax slightly now that I know she’s safe.
“Where are we going?”
I grimace at him, trying and failing to appease his growing glare. “ We are not going anywhere. I am going somewhere…I just don’t technically know where it is, yet.”
We turn, walking down the hall again, same as yesterday. Today is already off to a much better start. Miss Goss’ car was missing from the lot this morning. She’s either taking me at my word and is terrified, or she’s ruminating on all the ways she’ll try and fail to ruin my life while the bruises on her neck heal. Either way, I’m decided and set in my decision, and the voices chitter excitedly in the background of my brain; a constant noise but one I don’t think I could live without at this point.
“Is this a Teddy thing, or an Eden thing?” he asks, annoyance hindering his tone near the end. I glare at the side of his face but remain truthful.
“It has to do with Eden, yes.”
His head whips in my direction, and though he’s still glaring, his eyes are melting. At a glacial speed, but melting all the same.
“So you’re taking her to prom…she works at this shithole adult club with you…her dad is dying…what haven’t you been telling me?” he growls, knowing there’s more. There’s always more to the story with me, and he’s learned that. I don’t want to embarrass Eden by telling Cash, but who is he going to tell?
We pause, about to separate for the morning, and I sigh. “Look, she asked me to do something…private, with her, and my stipulation was that she go to prom with me first. Don’t pry, asshole. I think this has to do with those two fucks.”
He’s frowning at me, but I can see it in his eyes, the hurt he feels for her. Cash has always been empathetic, something I fail at. He grins suddenly, elbowing me.
“Not one to pass up the chance, huh?”
My lips press together, and he sobers. “She’s… mine , now. So if she has to deal with me and my…impulses…then I’ll be damned if I don’t treat her like a queen.”
He shakes his head but his smile remains, a touch of sadness and resignation in his eyes.
“Fine, weirdo. We’re a package deal anyways, so she better be cool to me.”
I grin.
“Don’t worry. She still hates my guts.”
Just hopefully not after Saturday.
The drive to wherever the fuck Eden is sending me is long, the highway mountainous and winding, each side of the road ensconced by massive pines and evergreens. I’d searched the coordinates on a school laptop during chemistry this morning, printing out a map to follow as though I’m a pioneer on the Oregon fucking Trail.
Cash’s Mustang rumbles smoothly through all the hairpin turns, and I have to grip the steering wheel and grit my teeth to prevent my toe from pressing down harder and harder on the gas pedal, the temptation to let it fly making my skin itch. I’d never take advantage of Cash like that, though—risk wrecking his baby. Plus, I need it on nights when my hunting takes us out of city bounds, Cash always happy to get stoned and wait for me to kill whoever the voices have deemed worthy of death by my knives.
As I round the next bend, a small, quaint village comes into view, and a light drizzle patters against the windshield. Hangman Hollow, Population 328 , the worn wooden sign reads, the white paint delineating the amount of people that reside here chipped and flaking away in the Olympic weather.
A small, warm smile creeps onto my face.
Wherever Eden is leading me, it has her soul written all over it. The perfect amount of mystery and darkened peace.
Once I’m through the town, it’s another five miles until my turn. The road grows more and more narrow, the elevation climbing enough that fog begins to cling to the trunks of trees, the sun hiding its face from whatever is lurking in these haunted woods. The silver clouds above roil with heavy, impending rains.
Eyes skirting to the map on the passenger seat again, I nearly miss the turn, no sign pointing me in the right direction, just a light break in the trees. Slamming on the brakes, I skid across the wet pavement, tires squealing. Alone in the desolate woods, I stare down the bumpy, rocky dirt road and wince, praying the suspension in his ‘Stang can withstand this leg of the journey. The trees and undergrowth are so thick that no light permeates the canopy to paint the forest floor below. A sinister warning crawls its hundred legs down my spine as my eyes adjust to that darkness, a flicker of something ghostly white a ways down the road dissipating into thin air.
Shaking myself loose, I grin. It’s just the fog. But I wouldn't be scared if it were something more, and neither would Eden.
Just another reason she is meant for me. No other girl would give me coordinates and make me work for something she is offering up. No other girl would play into my predatory side and send me on a scavenger hunt to make our tryst perfect. How she discovered this place, so far out from the city, is a question I need answered. I want to crawl inside her mind with her, harbor all her darkest secrets and twisted fantasies. And if she doesn’t have any, then I’ll share mine with her.
Slowly, I turn the wheel, edging the nose of the Mustang off the highway and onto the foreboding path before me. The map shows a red dot about four miles down the snaking road, and I take it slow, splashing through puddles of mud, cursing to myself because I know Cash is going to make me wash his prized possession.
At some point, it grows so dark beneath the thick trees that I have to flick on the headlights. Their glow bounces off the dewy ferns and moss-coated tree trunks. I’m met with more gauzy fog, but no other hints of phantoms. It feels as though the forest is holding its breath, everything pulling back with hisses as I willingly wander nearer their macabre home. By the time I have half a mile to go, I feel their eyes on me, the pitiless eyes of hundreds of souls. Some are curious, others bat shit crazy, and the worst are like mine; evil.
My chest feels as though a stone tablet has been laid upon it. It’s so heavy here, and the closer I get to this unknown location, the harder it becomes to breathe. As though all those lost souls are pushing against me, begging me to turn around before it’s too late. Some, however, entice me, lure me in because they want me to join their legion of the dead. But then, the trees thin, some semblance of humanity still awaiting nature’s brutal reclaiming. A long, wrought iron fence materializes out of the darkness, and my toe presses down a little harder on the gas pedal as sick excitement builds in my chest, fighting against that heaviness.
And there it is, a massive break in the trees and the gate to an abandoned insane asylum.
My heart positively soars, the gray, cloudy day casting eerie shadows in the empty, gaping windows. I roll to a stop in front of the gate, stone pillars keeping the wrought iron upright on either side. Spires pierce the sky above, and dead ivy winds between the bars. It’s absolutely huge, this place, so derelict and sorrowful and terrifying all at once.
But I am Teddy Poe, and ghosts never scared me.