24
Cold nausea begins to swarm inside me, though is it nausea, or the universe gripping my insides, trying to compel me to face this horror?
Memories flood through my mind – the way air was stolen from my chest, the mask slicing into my cheeks, the moon the last thing I could focus on before everything went dark.
The stench of wet earth as it pressed into my skin, filling my nose and swallowing my face.
The darkness as earth claimed me – the chill of it, the loneliness.
Isabel slips from the hallway silently, her pace rushed, distant leaf litter crunching beneath her hasty feet.
Branches lash my arms as I weightlessly tear through the woodland, following her with urgency, though the sensation is but a caress across my skin. An emptiness where agony should reside.
And as Isabel slows, glancing around the woodland, a shadow emerges from the nearby trees.
“Isabel?” the shadow asks.
Though, as the sun breaks through the leaves, illuminating them in golden sunlight, their soft edges become the form of a girl.
Danger. The forest breathes into me.
A girl with sable hair and kohl lined eyes.
A girl, chest pulsing with life, her skin flushed with the thrum of blood through her veins. Alive. Thriving in the woods.
They stand together – Francesca and Isabel. Raven’s eyes wide as she assesses Isabel’s urgency. Palms pressed to the quivering shoulders of my sister, her body trembling within the shadows.
“They know,” Isabel warns solemnly. “They know it’s Heather. They know it isn’t you.”
“Fuck,” Francesca breathes, hands threading through loose hair, twisting pieces around her fingertips nervously. “Do they know what happened?”
Isabel shakes her head, an eerie stillness to her as she watches Frannie.
“Are you in danger? We can run away right now, Isa. Together. Never look back.”
Panic lances through Francesca’s voice, a sharpness that slices the air between them.
But Isabel just sighs, a timid smile beginning to tilt her lips.
“No,” she says with a slight shake of her head. “They… they arrested Cole.”
Francesca’s brows dip, her hands dropping to her sides.
“Cole? Why?”
“Because,” Isabel mutters, the word drawn and cautious. “S-she was wearing his jacket, because he had taken the bow. B-because there was a witness to his brutality,”
She hiccups a small sob, twisting her fingers in her collar.
“A witness, who?” Francesca asks, brow deepening, eyes razor sharp on Isabel’s face.
“Me,” Isabel whispers, tugging against her lace collar to reveal her throat. Bruises trail her skin, indents of fingertips that had pressed violently against flesh.
“What happened?” Francesca breathes, stepping forward with curious fingers.
“Cole, I, uh, I let him lead me into the woods. I let him… have me.”
“Excuse me?” Francesca says, stilling. “You allowed Cole to fuck you while I waited in the woods? What are you thinking, Isabel!”
“I was thinking about how… if someone told the police how rough he behaves, how he preys on the women not yet of age… how his eyes turn dark when he sees the hurt on our faces… maybe they’d wonder if he were the ones in the woods that night.”
A moment of quiet tickles the air as Francesca draws a breath, before a laugh escapes her. She shakes her head, a smile fracturing her stern face with joy. She grips Isabel’s hands in hers, kissing my sister’s knuckles with rapid speed, excitement radiating from her.
“Oh, you clever fox,” Francesca cries, tears glistening across her face. “You clever, clever fox.”
Traitors. The forest whispers through the breeze.
“We’re free, Francesca,” Isabel whispers, pulling Francesca to her. Their faces linger a breath apart, as my world begins to spin. The forest rumbles beneath my feet, understanding wrapping through me like vine work – clenching and suffocating me from the inside.
“You and me, my love,” Francesca says, gently placing her fingers against Isabel’s jaw.
“I love you,” Isabel whispers, pressing her forehead to Francesca’s with tenderness.
“I love you,” Francesca whispers in return, slowly drawing her lips to Isabel’s with quiet reverence. A moment of unbridled devotion between them. The moment that should have been mine, that I’m now forced to witness as the old gums whisper of my death through the breeze.