Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Cole stood on the deck staring out into the night, hot chocolate in hand, hoping for an inspiration or a plan or an answer to a prayer he hadn’t yet thought of. He didn’t know what he was looking for, only that he wanted something.
Which wasn’t particularly helpful.
He even had a notebook that he left there, where he’d try to write out his thoughts and feelings.
One of the therapists he’d seen after the accident had suggested that.
The pages of his journal were a place where he could rant and admit all his darkest thoughts. The things he would never say out loud.
It was also the only place where he let himself think about the night of the accident.
Oh, he’d talked about the accident until it felt like he told the story by rote.
But in all those retellings, he left out one crucial element: he hadn’t called emergency.
And he hadn’t been alone, bleeding on the side of the road.
Even though he’d passed out, he had a memory of…of a monster holding his hand and talking. Maybe he had been alone and made it up while he was unconscious.
But he looked up what he remembered, and the description fitted the local legend of the Mothman.
Big red eyes, wings, and a herald of death, much like a banshee.
He’d read everything there was on the monster, which wasn’t a whole lot.
There was also something similar called the Owlman in England.
But every sighting was also accompanied by a laundry list of reasons it wasn’t a monster.
An oversized owl or some other bird, the witnesses were drunk, or the light was bad.
He was also an unreliable witness, given that he’d been busy dying.
He gripped the tin cup a little tighter.
He needed to stop thinking about the past and start thinking about the future.
Otherwise, he’d wake up, and another seven years would’ve passed, and by that point, there would be no way to winch himself out of the rut he was in.
He’d fallen into the rut that was expected, and it had been easy because he hadn’t needed to think. Two years ago, he’d needed to think.
He leaned against the side of his cabin.
His.
A beautiful distraction from reality. An escape.
Proof that he could do something on his own.
That he could make a plan and follow through.
It has taken a year longer than expected and planned for, but he hadn’t quit.
And even though physio and construction work had made him physically strong again, hiking had also helped because it had given him the confidence to venture out on his own.
Now he needed to start taking bigger steps.
He needed a direction.
The only map he had was to a place he could no longer reach. His entire life, there had only been two paths: football or the family construction business.
He needed a third.
He drank his cooling hot chocolate, hoping it would guarantee a good night’s sleep. Usually, the first night he slept well, like his body had been aching for the wilderness, but for whatever reason, he hadn’t been able to settle tonight, so he’d gotten up for a hot drink and some journaling.
His gaze scanned the darkness.
Not for the first time, it felt as though he wasn’t alone out here. Something was in the woods. There were plenty of stories about bears and wolves and monsters. Some places had old lore that said you shouldn’t answer any voices that called out.
But whatever was lurking amongst the trees had never felt malicious.
When he’d still been camping in the tent, he’d called out one particularly low night that if he was going to be eaten, whatever was out there should just fucking hurry up and do it.
Sometimes he imagined it was another guy who lived in the woods; depending on his mood, the guy was either checking in or checking him out.
His lips curved as he took another sip.
Or maybe it was Mothman watching over him. Of course he couldn’t see him because if he did, he’d die, right? Him being a herald of death and all.
Maybe the monster was more like a guardian angel for him…or maybe he was still marked for death, and it hadn’t caught up with him yet.
He finished his hot chocolate, drew in a breath, and turned away from the night. He didn’t need to think about the future right now. He’d do it over breakfast. One thing was certain; he wasn’t leaving the cabin until he had some kind of plan for the future.