Chapter Twenty-Three
I drop the gun, my hands shaking uncontrollably.
That wasn’t a bear. I wrap my arms around my legs, rocking myself as I try to figure out what I saw.
It happened so fast. I didn’t have time to think–I just shot.
A horrible feeling sinks into my stomach as I realize what I’ve done.
I think I saw long dark hair and something bright right as I pulled the trigger.
The sound of the thud replays in my mind.
I’m scared. I don’t want to look, but I need to be sure.
I lean forward, getting on my hands and knees before slowly crawling to the edge.
I reach up and grab the top of the wall, pausing before reluctantly pulling myself up.
I stand, my body shaking as I look over the side.
Lying on the ground is the body of a woman.
Her head is turned away so I can’t see her face but her dark hair is lying spread around her.
I can see it soaking up her blood. The same blood that’s splattered across her vivid, green jacket and I think to myself, ‘She will never get that stain out.’ I don’t know why I think that as I realize this woman isn’t going to get to do anything anymore–because of me.
My stomach clenches hard as I feel vomit coming up.
I sprint to the other side of the structure and throw up.
I’m glued to the spot, clinging to the wall as I gasp for breaths that are barely making it in and out of me.
Then, I let go of the wall and am pacing back and forth as my thoughts race around my mind.
I can’t make sense of anything I’m thinking.
I’m wringing my hands to keep from tearing at the skin on my fingertips when I feel something sticky.
I hold my hands in front of me, seeing that they’re covered in fresh, thick blood.
It's dripping off my fingers. I cry out and close my eyes. I don’t want to see.
Frantically, I wipe my hands on my pants.
I don’t want to see it, I can’t see it. Make it stop, make it all go away.
I’m struggling to focus on any one thought or feeling.
I’m drowning in broken emotions as the world is spinning around me.
I fall to my knees, letting out a bellowing scream before falling over and curling into a tight ball.
A scream echoes back out of the forest, one that I know well.
Something taps the floorboards underneath me as I hear heavy footsteps walking below.
I don’t care. I don’t move. I don’t react.
I lay still and quiet, not caring if I live or die.
Let them come up and take me, but I already know they won’t.
That would be too easy– they don’t like easy.
With my last remnants of hope, I reach for the backpack, pulling it close to me. I can’t make myself sit up as I dig through it, searching for the walkie-talkie. I pull it out, bringing it close to my face after turning it on. I need to hear Luke’s voice. Please be there.
I press the button, “Luke? Are you there?” All I get back is static. “Luke… please answer me. I’m lost… I’m scared.” I hold in my sob, knowing if I give in now I’ll never be able to keep my composure enough to speak to him. The static seems to grow louder as it keeps pouring out of the speaker.
Just as I’m about to give up on it, the static stops and Luke’s voice comes through.
It’s so incredibly faint, like a whisper.
I sit up quickly, gripping onto the lifeline.
“Luke?! Are you there?” Another quiet whisper followed by crackling white noise.
I move the walkie-talkie right next to my ear, trying to hear better, hoping it’s really him and not a cruel trick of my mind.
A high-pitched tone screeches out of the speaker.
So loud, it feels like it might burst my eardrum.
I drop the walkie-talkie, grabbing my ear with a wince.
Quickly, I pick it back up but it's quiet. Disappointing silence is the only thing coming from the device now. I press all the buttons, turning it on and off but nothing works. He’s gone–if he was ever there at all.
_____
They have been running underneath me and through the trees.
They yell, scream, cry, and beg. They call for me until my name ceases to mean anything.
I hear small, plunking sounds as if they are throwing things at the structure.
I don’t move, I can’t. The breeze blows the smell of blood up, making me gag.
I choke on the horror of what I’ve done and know that I’ll never be the same.
Now, I’m a murderer. I cover my ears with my hands, trying to drown out the noise from below and wait for tears.
There should be tears by now, but I can’t feel them.
I can’t feel anything at all. I’m empty.
I lie in the same spot, watching the sun slowly go down and the moon take its place.
Once it's dark, I stare up at the stars as I shiver silently in the dark. The tops of the trees block a lot of them, but I can catch small glimpses. They’re so bright tonight, brighter than I remember them ever being before.
They’re beautiful, helping me forget just for a moment before the vision of dark hair and blood comes flooding back.
I can’t understand why this is all happening.
Have I been such a bad person? Do I deserve this? All my life, I’ve tried my best.
I hear my mother’s voice in the darkness.
She murmurs comforting words into my ear, telling me it’s all okay.
That I’ll survive this, that I’m good. The thought of her reminds me of music; she loves music.
I softly hum, to the stars and to myself, a lullaby she would sing for me.
I can hear her so clearly that it’s like she’s here with me.
As a child, I would be hypnotized by this ethereal melody and it brings me right back to those memories and emotions.
I can feel her arms wrapped around me as I close my eyes and hold onto her.
When the song comes to its end, I stop. The forest is silent around me.
The wind in the trees is at a standstill, like everything is listening and waiting.
As I feel tempted to sit up and look out into the night, somewhere deep in the woods someone is humming my lullaby back to me.
It’s not my voice but something higher, a child’s voice.
A little closer, another voice joins, this time older and more weathered.
All around me, more join in creating the most haunting harmony reverberating through the trees. I can feel the music in my body.
My eyes feel heavy as I begin to float outside my body. I wonder if this is a dream. If it’s not, I think…this would be an okay last memory.
_____
Night goes slow; the creatures never fully leave.
They come and go for hours, making all sorts of noise but never coming up.
Instead, they stay just beyond where I am.
The few times I gave in and looked down, nothing was ever there.
I found myself in a horrible cycle of trying to sleep, starting to drift away, being woken up by their terrible screams and then looking over the edge to find myself always alone.
Eventually I stopped wondering. I fell deeper into a place of only waiting.
I spent the last part of the night staring at the stars, letting my life play out in my mind.
Letting myself wonder what it could look like after this, if there will be a life after.
It’s been quiet for a while. I assume they’ve gone back to wherever it is they stay during the day, but I can’t be sure anymore.
That theory seems less true now that I’ve seen them out during the daytime.
They seem to be becoming more omnipresent the longer I’m in the woods but at least they’re quiet when the sun is out. The moon is their companion of chaos.
I wobble as I get to my feet, wincing when I put weight on my injured foot but as I become steadier, I walk to the edge of the structure.
Everything inside of me is fighting to not look down, but I need to confront what I’ve done.
When I lower my gaze, I’m shocked to find that her body has disappeared, not even any blood is left behind, as if it never happened.
I stall, wanting to let myself live in a world where I didn’t shoot someone.
I want it not to have happened. To know it wasn’t real.
But when I close my eyes, I can see her so clearly.
I can smell the iron in the air. It’s engraved in my mind. I can still feel her blood on my hands.
My breath moves in and out of my lungs in a frenzy, until I topple backwards and fall.
When I open my eyes, I see the gun lying next to me.
A sudden fury takes over and I pick it up, flinging it over the wall to the ground below.
I watch the gun fly out of my hands and notice that they’re clean too.
There isn’t any blood on them, not even between my fingers.
I look down at my pants; the stains that should be there are gone.
A chuckle escapes out of me. This isn’t real.
I cover my face with my hands, hysterical laughter overwhelming me. None of this is fucking real.
I jump up, my hysteria giving me a moment of determination.
I’m getting out of here. My fear, pain, and isolation are working together to attack my mind.
I limp the few steps over to the backpack, grabbing it before leaving what could be my last safe space.
Now that I’m not in such a hurry I see this perch had a door the entire time.
The mechanism to open it is simple and makes maneuvering my sore body down much easier.