Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Atticus
Pain throbs through me with every stiff movement, but it's an ache I’ll happily endure forever for what it signifies: freedom.
I'm still trapped in this half-human, half-scarecrow form.
Still cursed.
But at least I'm not bound to that God-forsaken post.
I reach my arms over my head, stretching my hands toward the sky, and my spine cracks violently. After being stationary for so long, I'm not sure what I'm capable of, so I take it slow. No sense in ruining my newfound freedom by breaking anything.
What a disappointment that would be.
Even though All Hallows’ Eve is quickly approaching, and I’ll be rejuvenated then, I'm ready to leave this hellish clearing now. Not in a couple of weeks.
Cautiously, I flex my fingers and wiggle my toes, shaking my limbs despite the soreness. Moving is awkward and feels unnatural after being still for so long, but I know I’ll get used to it.
Now that I’m free, I plan to move around as much as possible.
I look down at the woman at my feet, her eyes wide with something akin to curiosity. The knife is still clutched tightly in her hand, but I think it's more from shock than a pathetic attempt at self-defense.
She looks so vulnerable and weak on her knees, a harsh juxtaposition to the way she carries herself. And I can't deny the flicker of desire that sparks through me seeing her like this. The way her perfect lips are slightly parted, the way her chest heaves with every breath.
She's perfect. Flawless.
If only I was still a man…
I shake my head and the nonsense from it. There's no point in entertaining thoughts like those. Not while I’m like this. No one, especially a beautiful woman, could ever see me as anything other than a monster.
When she doesn't make an effort to move, I offer her my hand. For a moment, I think she might decline. Her eyes shift between my face and my glove-covered fingers like she’s still trying to decide if I’m still a threat.
I could be.
Now that I’m free from my restraints, I can do whatever I want. I could chase her, torture her, kill her.
But I won’t.
Cassie isn’t like the other villagers who come to make a spectacle of me, who try and fail to destroy me. She’s the only person to show me a glimmer of kindness in over one hundred years.
And I am a man of my word.
Finally, she reaches for me and allows me to haul her to her feet. She pauses mere inches away, her eyes locked with mine. I can still see the curiosity and fear reflected in them, and a twinge of guilt twists in my chest.
I’ve never cared what others thought of me. I reveled in the fear of the other townspeople who came to terrorize me.
But I don’t want Cassie to be afraid…
Not anymore.
“Thank you,” I say, not moving from the spot. I’m still getting used to supporting my own weight, my legs a little wobbly with the effort. Even in the dimming light, I can swear her cheeks flush pink.
“You’re welcome,” she breathes.
“A hundred years and you’re the first person to treat me with any kind of decency.
” I’m still reeling with disbelief; after being tied to the post behind me for a century, I never thought I’d be able to move freely again.
I owe her, possibly more than I’ve ever owed anyone in my long life.
“I may never be able to repay you, but I will lead you out of the cornfield.”
“That's repayment enough.” Her features light up, her eyes glimmering despite the darkness threatening to swallow us. The sun will be completely set soon, and without any kind of torch or light source, it’ll make navigating a little more difficult.
For her, not me.
My soul is tethered to the field. I know exactly how many rows of corn and individual stalks there are, and I know the moment when someone steps foot inside. I might not have seen every inch of this cornfield with my own eyes, but I know it, instinctively, as well as I know myself.
“Come.” I jerk my head toward the edge of the clearing and step around her to lead the way. “It’ll be pitch black soon; it’s best if we get a move on.”
She follows without a word.
Foliage rustles beneath my boots with every step, and I fight the urge to look back over my shoulder at the red-haired woman on my heels. Her presence presses down on me like an invisible weight, but I do my best to ignore it.
She is nothing to me.
I am only returning a favor.
Just returning a favor—
For several minutes we walk in silence.
“How does it feel?” Cassie’s voice drifts around me, and I'm unable to fight the compulsion any longer; I glance at her over my shoulder.
I take the opportunity to admire the curve of her jaw and the way her hair falls around her face. The freckles flecked across her skin, and the way her throat bobs with a swallow. The longer I look at her, the less I want to look away.
I clear my throat. “To leave that clearing behind?”
She nods.
“Better than you know.” I tear my eyes away from her and look ahead again. It's euphoric, a relief so profound I didn't know it was possible. “I never thought I would be able to move again after being tied to that post for so long. It’s nearly as good as being human again.”
“You are human,” she quickly argues. “Well, mostly, right?”
I force a single chuckle and shake my head. “I might look like a human to you, but beneath these clothes, beneath this mask,” I tug at the edge of the burlap covering my head, “I am less human than you think.”
Silence falls between us again, and this time it’s unsettling enough to make my skin itch. Even in the short beats of quiet, I want her to keep talking. To fill the gaps. She could talk about anything under the sun, the most boring and trivial subjects, as long as she fills the silence with noise.
Once she leaves the cornfield, there’s no telling how long it’ll be before I have company who doesn’t try to kill me again. If ever.
The thought drives me to strike up conversation again.
“You say you wanted to prove I don’t exist to your cousin.” I glance at her over my shoulder again. “What led you to doubt her?”
Her cheeks turn pink, and she avoids my eyes. “I just moved to Cold Springs this week. Where I come from, we don’t really have superstitions or paranormal activity, so I thought she was overreacting.”
“Where do you come from?”
“A big city in Ohio,” she answers. “Lots of buildings, hundreds of thousands of people. It’s very different from here.”
“Ohio. That’s several hours from here.” It’s been a long time, but I remember studying maps before I was cursed.
I spent countless hours hunched over them, memorizing the tiny lines representative of roads.
“It was always one of my biggest aspirations to travel, to see the world. Of course, Cold Springs will always be my home, but I wanted to see more. It’s good that you took the opportunity. ”
Her lips curve with a small smile. “Yeah, this is my first time out of the state. I needed to get away for a bit and wanted a change of scenery. But this,” she gestures to the stalks of corn surrounding us, “wasn’t the kind of scenery I imagined.”
I laugh and she joins in, the sound ringing out through the field around us. Definitely not a sound I’m accustomed to hearing.
Screams and cries of terror, sure.
But not laughter.
“The cornfield isn’t the most exciting bit of scenery, I’m sure. What do you think of the rest of Cold Springs?”
Over the years, I’ve wondered how the town I grew up in might have changed in my absence, and I can’t help but consider it once more as we venture toward the edge of the cornfield.
What kind of stores have been built in the last hundred years?
Do townspeople still throw parties in Mr. Haggerty’s hay field on the weekends?
Do they meet outside Winston’s Grocer after hours and listen to music until the early morning?
I’ve spent countless hours wondering what it’s like now, if it bears any semblance to the place I once knew, while trying not to dwell on the darker aspects of being gone for a century.
Like the fact that everyone I knew is now dead.
“It’s nice,” Cassie says, thankfully interrupting my train of thought. “Very different from what I’m used to. Quiet, peaceful for the most part. I don’t think I’m made for farm-life though.”
“No?” I’ve slowed down now, in slightly less of a hurry to reach the end of the field, and Cassie is walking half a step behind me. It’s much easier to watch her, to study her features, without having to crane my neck to see her.
She shakes her head. “I’m not much of a morning person, and we have to get up super early to do chores. Though, if I’m honest, I’m not a fan of the chores either.”
“Understandable.” I couldn’t blame her; I always hated farm chores too. “Do you plan on returning to your home, then? If you don’t care for life in Cold Springs?”
For a long moment, she doesn’t answer, and the unsettling feeling returns.
Finally, she sighs. “I-I can’t go home. Not yet, anyway.”
I wait for an explanation, but she doesn’t offer one.
I don’t pressure her.
“Are we lost?” she asks suddenly, changing the subject. She glances worriedly behind us, like she’s afraid something will spring out of the stalks and chase us.
Little does she know how safe she is with me.
The only thing Cassie has to worry about in this cornfield is me, and I’ve already decided not to harm her.
“No,” I assure her, slowing down even more so that we’re walking side by side. My arm brushes hers and electric sparks skitter down my limb, heating me from the inside out. “In fact, we’re almost there.”