42. Aspen #3
I clamp my hand over my mouth, and a strange keening peals from my throat.
There’s no terrible smell, but the weather is cold enough that his body being left out here would have been like locking him inside a giant refrigerator.
I guess that’s something to be thankful for, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
I’m itching to bolt, to get the hell out of here so I don’t have to face whatever might be in that car, but where will I run?
Back to Windridge Hall? And then what? Because a big part of me knows Tobias wouldn’t have hidden his own car in here, which means that someone else did, and the only other people around here are the men I’m currently living with.
My entire body is trembling, my adrenaline so high that my teeth chatter. I can’t leave this place until I know for sure what’s in that car. If I leave now, to go and find help, and then come back and he’s not inside the vehicle, I won’t know for sure if his body was moved while I was gone.
Slow, tentative steps take me closer to the car.
I’m barely breathing and my fists clench by my sides.
The only light comes from the open door to the shed, and more dust motes float in the shaft.
The interior of the vehicle is murky, so I’m unable to see if anyone is inside.
Thick, dark shadows hide terrors that most likely only lurk in my imagination.
Pale, skeletal creatures crouched with claws and razor-sharp teeth, ready to leap at me, screaming.
I reach the driver’s side of the car and, bracing one arm on the roof and cupping my other hand to the glass, I peer through the window. I let out a cry of relief.
It’s empty.
I rest my forehead on my forearm, breathing fast, and trying to keep control. He’s not in the driver’s seat, or anywhere else that’s visible, but perhaps someone put his body in the trunk. I should probably run at this point, but I have to check. It’ll haunt me if I don’t.
Drawing in a deep, shaky breath, I check the door. It’s unlocked. The catch for the trunk is by the driver’s seat, so I pop it and then round to the back of the car. I squeeze my eyes shut as I pull it open fully, not wanting to look, but then force them open. The trunk is empty, too, thank God.
Is there blood in the car? It’s too dark to be sure.
Even if there is blood, I can’t deduce much from it.
He was bleeding when I last saw him, and that had been because of me.
All it would mean was he’d been in the vehicle after I’d pushed him off the bed.
Any blood could simply have come from that injury.
Not finding his body doesn’t mean he’s still alive, but I cling to the hope. Maybe he was given a warning and then sent away?
Somehow, I don’t think that’s the truth. Did he tell anyone he was coming up here? I’d be surprised if he told his parents—it’s not like they bothered checking in on him either. He could have just left and didn’t bother to tell anyone.
Another thought occurs to me.
Does anyone else even know I’m here? The only person I told was Tobias, and he’s… well… gone. Did he tell any of his friends where I am?
If Tobias goes missing and people know where he went, the police are bound to find Windridge Hall eventually and ask questions about what happened.
What exactly did happen?
I hurt him; I know that much. Sure, I could argue it was self-defense, but where would be the proof?
After that, though, I have no idea. Had Tobias gotten up and left by himself, but was intercepted on the way?
Or had someone else come into my room and hurt Tobias even worse while I was sleeping?
If that had happened, why hadn’t I woken up? I’d been out solidly until morning.
Unless I hadn’t been. Unless I’d hurt Tobias in my sleep, like I was sleepwalking. I’m not sure I’m strong enough for that to have been possible, but the missing hours where I’d been out for the count make me wonder if something else had been going on.
I realize I’m not thinking about whether anyone knows I’m here because I’m worried about my own safety. I’m only worried about people from home coming here asking questions about him.
Fuck. What about his parents? They weren’t close, but I know how terrible it is for parents to not know what’s happened to their child.
Am I really considering playing a part in another family going through what mine did?
It destroyed us. I bite my lower lip. I’ll figure something out.
I won’t let his parents live the rest of their lives without knowing what happened to their son.
Not that I even know myself right now.
I have to get back to Windridge Hall. As far as I can tell, the only option I have, other than leaving, is to confront Blake.
I don’t want to leave. Even though I should. Even though I’d be crazy to want to stay here, with the looming figures in the dark, the stick men, and everything else. I do still want to stay, which scares me the most of all.
Windridge Hall, and the men within its walls, has slowly wound its arms around me and is now holding me tight.