Chapter Twenty-One #2
“Stay close, Miss. It’s not far,” he says as he starts leading me away.
He has a small flashlight pinned to his jacket that helps guide our path.
It’s much brighter than mine, which is helpful but also casts a larger eerie glow around the trees.
I keep my eyes fixed on him though. I don’t let myself look around hoping to keep myself from seeing anything in the trees–real or imaginary.
A few minutes into our hike, the sun sets the rest of the way and with it gone, the temperature seems to plummet.
I get cold so fast that my teeth start to chatter.
I try to make them stop, feeling weirdly embarrassed by this human reaction.
You would think after everything I’ve been through I wouldn’t worry so much about what people think, but for some reason I still do.
The man stops walking, snapping my attention back to what we’re doing.
“Here it is. Home sweet home. Well, for right now anyway.” He looks back at me and I can tell he’s smiling even though I can barely see him past his bright light.
I smile back, hoping it looks as genuine as it feels but also being so tired that I’m not sure it came across that way.
He holds the door open for me and the second I step inside, warm air hits my face.
I quickly rush to a wood stove that burns in the corner of the small room.
It only takes me a few long strides before I’m in front of it holding out my cold hands.
Once I have feeling in my fingers again, I turn and let it warm the other side of me.
I look around the shack and that’s really all this place is.
It’s just a room with a single bed in the very middle, the stove, and a small table and chair.
There isn’t even a toilet and though I realize, beggars can’t be choosers, I’m disappointed.
It’s a utility-over-comfort sort of place which makes sense given its purpose, but I’ve never been in a room that’s so empty.
The walls don’t have much on them. The only things are a perch by the door for his gun and a mirror.
Definitely an older man, bachelor-type of vibe.
I smile a little at the thought before realizing I haven’t been paying attention to what he’s doing.
He probably thinks I’m rude. I look over at him as he is taking off his jacket and setting it on the table.
“This is great. I haven’t been this warm since I left the cabin. Thank you for bringing me here.” I go to say his name before remembering, I don't actually know it. “I’m sorry, I never got your name...?”
“It’s Abel,” he walks over and shakes my hand which makes me laugh and I could swear he blushes a bit. I shake his hand before setting my other hand on top, holding onto his tighter for a moment.
“I owe you everything, Abel. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“Oh, hey now, you don’t owe me anything.
I don’t know a single soul who would have left you out there in that state.
Getting you and your fella the help you need will be payment enough.
” He pats my hand before pulling away and walking back to the table.
“There’s water over here. Help yourself.
I have plenty and you take the bed, so you can get some good rest.”
“Oh, Abel, I can’t take your bed...” He puts his hand up, gesturing for me to stop.
“You will. I insist. I have a very comfortable sleeping bag that I can set up right by the fire. I’ll probably be more comfortable than you, to be honest,” he says with a wink. I can tell he’s the type of man that isn’t going to take no for an answer, so I nod.
“Thank you.” He gives one curt nod before grabbing his sleeping bag from under the table and settling down for the night.
Before I do the same, I walk over to the table to get a drink of water.
I feel thirsty enough to down an entire water bottle, but I can’t stomach the thought of having to go outside while it’s dark to go to the bathroom–or worse, waking Abel to take me.
So, I drink just enough to feel a little better.
As I turn around to get into bed, I decide I’m going to brave looking in the mirror.
I can’t imagine what I must look like after the last couple days.
I’m sure it's not good. Unfortunately, when I get to the mirror, the glass is weirdly distorted, reminding me of a funhouse mirror. My reflection is dim, the only light coming from the wood-stove. The flickering light from the fire isn’t consistent and in turn makes my face look stretched and distorted.
I lift my hand up to touch my face and my reflection does the same.
My fingers are too long and crooked. I continue to gaze at my darkened reflection, feeling slightly entranced by my warped and twisted appearance.
I try smiling but as my reflection smiles back, the edges of my mouth pull up too high.
I sigh. It doesn’t matter what I look like.
I can almost hear my mother’s voice, “It’s not a fashion show, Hanna. ”
I roll my eyes with a smile, pretending she is here.
I wish she was. I trudge to the bed, hoping to dream of my parents.
As I crawl into the covers and lay my head on the pillow, I’ve never felt more comfortable.
In the safety of enclosed walls, my mind feels at peace and immediately I feel myself starting to fall asleep to the soft sound of Abel’s snoring.