Chapter Nineteen #3
Startled, I lurch upright, gasping as I try to look around.
My brain hasn’t caught up to what’s going on or why I can’t see.
As I come to, I hear something run by. I’m so scared and mixed up, I fumble around, trying to find the flashlight.
Suddenly, my brain has fully woken up, and I remember exactly what’s going on.
I reach my hand out, grabbing the flashlight right where I set it next to me.
When I turn it on, the tent lights up around me and barely a moment later, at the opening of the tent I hear a woman’s voice.
“Hello…What are you doing?” I’m paralyzed with fear and confusion, unable to respond.
“Will you help me?” Something inside me tells me not to answer or engage with it in any way, so I stay silent.
Slowly and quietly, I pull the sleeping bag off of me and begin putting my shoes back on.
I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m worried I might need to run.
“Let me in! Help me!” It shifts into screaming.
I grab my pack, pulling out the gun I still haven’t shot.
God, I hope it fires. I hold it in my arms, pointing it toward the front of the tent and wait.
Leaves crunch under the creature’s steps as it moves around the side of the tent.
I take some deep, grounding breaths, trying to stay present and alert.
I can’t believe this is happening. What do I do?
“Hanna. Hanna. Hanna…” it starts saying my name over and over, this time in a monotone, inhuman voice. “Why won’t you let me in, Hanna?”
It’s with this last question that I wonder, why isn’t it ripping the tent open?
Why didn’t it break down the door at the cabin?
It’s been coming and going, even inside the cabin at different times, but it hasn’t forced its way inside.
It’s always trying to lure me out. Maybe it enjoys tormenting its prey or maybe it’s governed by some law of nature that won’t let it take someone who isn’t willing.
Either way, I let myself believe it won’t come into this tent tonight.
I follow the instinct and accept the risk as I set the gun to the side and turn the light back off. Darkness envelops me.
The sound of its steps stops the moment my light goes out followed by another piercing scream.
The creature crashes into the trees behind me and complete silence falls over the area once again.
Even though I already know there’s no way that I’ll be able to go back to sleep, I know I should try.
I need the rest if I stand to make progress tomorrow.
As I start to settle back down into the sleeping bag, I hear noises coming from both sides.
It sounds like several bodies running through the trees, coming straight back toward the tent.
They stop before crashing into me, instead only brushing against the sides of the tent and I realize now, in horror, there’s more than one.
Together, they’re loud, and I swear I can feel the boom of their steps reverberating through the ground.
In the dark, it’s hard to gauge the distance between the different noises.
My name is whispered so close, it sounds like it’s right next to my ear and I can almost imagine their breath on my skin.
The sound of children’s cries echo through the air on the other side of me.
Someone is calling for help in the forest. Around and around the different sounds flow in and out. It’s hypnotizing, making me feel dizzy.
I crawl as far down into the sleeping bag as I can, pulling the thick fabric over my head and cover my ears with my hands, but their voices only seem to be getting louder. They cry and scream together, sounding almost musical and they don’t stop.
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I lie in the fetal position, praying to a God I don’t believe in until silence falls around me again.
There’s no way to know how long I’ve been stuck like this, but my body is sore from not moving.
My head is pounding, and my hair is wet from my nonstop tears.
When I finally pull the sleeping bag away from my face, I see the sun starting to rise.
It’s shining and glittering through the trees.
Still low to the ground but bright enough that I can see the tent walls that once housed me have been shredded.
There isn’t enough left standing to have even kept the morning dew off me.
If I got any sleep, it wasn’t much and it definitely didn’t help me.
My eyes feel swollen shut. I squint into the light as it seems brighter than usual.
I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this day and I don’t want to live another night like that.
Even with how exhausted, scared and sad I am, I know I can’t waste the daylight, so I force myself to climb out of my cocoon.
The air outside the sleeping bag is so cold, a shiver ripples through my body.
I quickly grab my jacket, shaking the dew from it before slipping it back on.
I climb the rest of the way out, grabbing my water out of the backpack and taking a few sips.
I haven’t needed to pee at all since yesterday evening, so I wonder how dehydrated I am.
The crying has drained my body faster than I imagined.
At least soon, I won’t have any tears left to cry.
The thought both frightens and oddly comforts me.
What’s the emotional compromise? Become numb enough to survive or feel enough to want to.