Dark and Twisted (8 page)

Blood pounds in my ears and my stomach plummets to my feet as I squint to get a better look at who it is, but the fog turns him into a shadow. My mind reels, attempting to figure out who would be in the woods besides me.

It could be Buck, he lives a few houses away and could have seen me go into the woods. It would be typical for him to get laugh out of trying to scare me, but this is not funny.

“Buck, is that you? Very funny. You scared me. Now you can go and tell everyone.” I call out, but as I do, I realize that it can’t be him. The person in front of me has a tall, thin build, besides Buck couldn’t go this long without insulting me. Dread washes over me at the realization. “I’m sure that you would like to get around me and continue on with your evening stroll.”

He remains as still as a statue, his eyes burning through me. My throat dries and my mind races on a way around him. Why did I fake being sick the weekend Liv signed us up for the self-defense class? I’m out here, alone and unarmed. How stupid of me. I do a mental inventory of the continents of my bag: wads of paper, my notebook, a chewed pen, a tattered copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, half a bag of sour gummy worms, and my emergency tampon. Crap. What am I going to do? Tampon him to death? Smart, Eden. “So, yeah, my boyfriend is waiting on the other side for me.” I point past him. “Perhaps you saw him? He’s big and extremely jealous, the captain of the football team. I hate to keep him waiting. He gets in these fits of jealous rage, and last time, he beat up some poor guy just for asking me for directions.” I let out a nervous giggle at my lie.

“Okay, so I am going to go now.” My made-up story doesn’t send him scurrying in fear the way I hoped it would, and I have wasted too much time, the gray sky is starting to deepen to a charcoal black. The last thing I want to do is be in the dark woods with some kidnapper \ —or worse.

I push the strap of my bag up on my shoulder and start to walk, each step becoming a little faster. Veering off the path slightly, I leave a wide berth between me and the stranger while keeping my eyes on him. His face is completely hidden by the hood of his sweat shirt. He has on black
Doc Martins
that strap up to his knees. I have nothing to give to the police if I need to.

He turns his head, following my every movement. I continue to glance over my shoulder to make sure the stranger remains where he is. I’m pretty sure this is all a sick and twisted joke. Someone probably saw me entering the woods and thought it would be funny to scare me. It’s not.

The trail ends in a few hundred feet, and I am so close to being out of these woods. As soon as I step out, I will be on the pothole-filled street in front of Liv’s house. A shadow moves in front of me, and I know it’s him. My heart plummets to the bottom of my stomach. I don’t wait around this time to share pleasantries. I run.

A high-pitched laugh cuts through the air, surrounding me as it bounces off the trees. It’s a dark, sinister laugh that turns my veins to ice and causes every hair on my arms to rise. I pick up my pace, and an ache in my side cuts deep into me like a razor, but I don’t stop running. Damn it for skipping out on all those gym classes. My legs burn, pleading for me to stop, but I don’t dare.

The laughter grows louder until it’s everywhere. It chills me to the bone. I feel like I stepped into the scene of a horror movie.
I hate horror movies
. I pump my arms as hard as I can, my feet slamming on the ground, jarring my teeth. I’m almost there. The laughter dies, and I risk the chance of looking over my shoulder, hoping he will be gone.

My feet are out from under me. Time seems to stand still as I’m suspended off the ground, and then everything speeds up. I try to scream, but, I slam down hard on the ground, and all the air is crushed out of my lungs. Pain shoots up my arm from where I hit the hard ground, but I don’t have time to worry about what I hurt. I’m being dragged backwards, fast, and the end of the trail is fading away. I grip at the ground, clawing at the dirt and dead vegetation. Anything to stop him from taking me deeper into the woods.

Oh, my god, what will he do to me if he gets me farther in? The dirt digs its way under my nails, and scratches burn across my palms. I try to scream again, but it comes out muffled. Fear grips me as I desperately try to get away from him. No one can hear me, and there is no one coming to help me. I continue to grab at the ground for something to defend myself with, but the twigs and roots snap as a strong force yanks me forward. He holds my feet together by the ankles as I try to kick free, jerking with all of my might.

His hold breaks, and now’s my chance to get away. I spin over, trying to get to my feet, but he grabs me by my hair and slams me back to the ground. My bag offers some protection, but gravel still manages to dig its way into my exposed skin as he drags me as if I’m nothing more than a rag doll.

I reach back, pulling at his hand and trying to free myself. He releases, me and I crawl and stumble away, but I am not quick enough. He grabs ahold of my ankle and marches deeper into the woods, not loosening his grip on me.

Desperate, I kick again, and my shoe finally makes contact hard enough that I hear the sickening sound of bone cracking. He lets out a growl that sounds more animalistic than human. Dropping my foot, he cradles his hand protectively to his chest. I scream and crab-walk backwards, trying to get away.

Still holding his wrist, he turns and descends upon me, like a cat stalking a mouse. I scream again with everything I have. His eyes glow a fierce red, floating in a sea of black shadows. His uninjured hand goes around my neck, and it is like fire scorching the skin. I grab his hand and trying to wrench it away. But he is strong, and the pain is unbearable. My vision blurs, graying the edges, and I am unable to grasp a single coherent thought as fire blisters my skin.

The fire stops. It is gone, and the only thing left is the reminder of the burn. I gasp for air bringing my hands around my neck. The skin is tender but unharmed. What is he?

His head snaps up, listening to the rustle of leaves. Then he is up off me darting into the woods.

Hours, minuets, seconds might have passed, but time doesn’t make sense to me anymore. I scream until my throat feels like raw meat.

“Eden!” Mr. Wissian is leaning over me, slapping me gently on the cheek.

I cry out and propel myself backwards. Searching the woods, but I see no one else, and I let the next scream die in my throat.

“Eden, are you hurt? What happened?” He straightens up and hobbles back a few steps.

“I was attacked,” I whimper. Didn’t Mr. Wissian see my attacker? Why is he looking at me so strangely?

“Eden, do you suffer from low blood sugar?” he asks.

I look at him and blink in confusion. Sighing, he produces a lint covered mint from somewhere in his pocket.

“I think you fainted. Either that or you like taking naps on trails in the woods.”

He sounds annoyed, but why would he be if I was the one being attacked?

“I wasn’t taking a nap, and I didn’t faint. I don’t faint.”
Why doesn’t he believe me?
I look around the woods again. “Did you see him?” I ask.

“Who?” He furrows his brow, filling his face with more wrinkles than usual.

“The person who attacked me.”

Mr. Wissian shakes his head and sighs. “I didn’t see anything. I heard you yelling when I was out for my afternoon stroll, but I assure you, you were alone.” He bends over and lifts my bag up, brushing the dried leaves and dirt from the patchwork fabric.

“My phone.” I get to my feet and grab my bag back from him, digging around in the front pocket. “It was in here.” I push aside rumpled up homework sheets and straw wrappers. “It must have fallen out when I was …” I glance up at Mr. Wissian, who is watching me with concern. For a moment, I toy with the idea that it could have been him. He has on an oversized corduroy overcoat and a red sweater vest. No, he couldn’t have been my attacker. He’s too short and badly dressed and his eyes don’t glow. I bite down hard on my lip, holding back a whimper.

“You don’t believe I was attacked? You think I fainted?” I question him.

His concerned look morphs into pity. “Yes, I believe so.”

He offers me the mint again, and I take it and stuff it in my mouth. I am feeling lightheaded.

“Why?” I ask, swallowing some of the lint.

“There is no sign of a struggle.”

“But my neck, he burned me.” I pull the collar of my shirt down, but I know by the look on his face that nothing is there.

“Eden, perhaps you imagined it, with your …” He lets his next word die off.

“With my history,” I finish for him.

He nods his head.

“I’m not crazy. I didn’t imagine it or hallucinate.” I jut out my chin in defiance. I’m not going to stand around debating my sanity when I know what happened. “Can I use your phone? I need to call the police. The guy who attacked me is still out there.” I hold out my hand, waiting. I’m not going to let some middle-aged, balding man make me feel like I was in the wrong. I was attacked.

“I’m sorry, Miss Day. I don’t have a phone. I don’t believe in them.”

Who the hell doesn’t believe in cell phones?

“I need to get home.” I turn away angrily, swinging my bag over my shoulder.

“I will see you home,” he says.

I don’t protest because, despite my annoyance with him, I don’t want to be alone with the phantoms haunting my mind.

###

Red and blue lights dance over the living room wall. The attack weighs heavy on my mind. All I want to do is lay down and sleep, but I have to repeat my story again to another officer who asks the same questions as the others. An older officer sits across from me in the recliner, looking overstuffed and overtired himself. He pushes his glasses to the top of his head and sighs through his nose for the thousandth time. His partner, a wiry kid who graduated high school last year, stands next to the TV. One hand sits on his belt, the other on his gun, ready at any moment to take a perpetrator out.

“Eden, can you explain to me what the attacker looked like?” He sits up, putting his elbows on his knees.

“I told you already, I couldn’t see him.”
I only saw his eyes. Eyes that glowed
is what I don’t say.

“Pete’s searched the area and didn’t find anyone or any sign of an attack.”

I roll my eyes at Officer Pete, who is only on the force because his father is captain.

“If my niece says someone attacked her, Billy, then she was attacked.” Essie pats my knee.

“Ess … If Eden is not telling the truth—” Officer Benson starts.

Essie holds up a hand, silencing him. Bill Benson went to school with Essie and my father. He played ball with my dad, and he saw my family shunned when Essie came back different.

“If that will be all then, Officer.” Essie words come out sharp. “Eden needs to get some rest. She’s had a trying night.”

Officer Benson hesitates. “Essie I …” He searches her face as she stands with her chin jutted out in defiance. He sighs again, “If you remember anything else.” He takes a card out of his pocket and hands it to me.

I stare at the raised black ink on the card. No one believes me, except Essie, and her word has no legs to stand on. Essie walks Officer Benson to the door. She looks so strong. Dad always said she might look small, but she could be as feisty as a pit bull when cornered.

I look up at Pete, who is still in the room watching me. He shakes his head and mumbles, “Freak,” before exiting.

“I cannot believe the nerve of some people.” Furious, Essie stomps back in the living room.

Glad she is on my side, I Jump up and run into her arms. We are the same height, but I still fold easily into her embrace. She squeezes me, and for a moment, all of my fears and doubts disappear.

“Come, let me make you something to eat. You must be starving.”

I arrange Essie’s bottles of pills while she makes a can of soup. She repeatedly stabs at the pile of gel that still resembles the can shape, but after losing the battle, she spoons a lumpy cream of mushroom soup into two bowls and sets them on the counter between us
.

Bon appétit
. I move the soup around with my spoon, not hungry. My mind cartwheels, thinking about what occurred. What was it that attacked me? Whatever it was, I’m sure it was not human. People don’t have eyes that glow or hands of fire. I reach up to my neck, it is still warm, but there is no sign of any damage.

“I want to show you something,” Essie says interrupting my thoughts. She pulls out a folded piece of paper from her pocket and pushes it toward me.

Carefully, I unfold the newspaper clipping.

“I always keep this with me as a reminder that they are out there.” She points to the ceiling as if “they” are upstairs.

I look at her for a moment. Could she be right? Could the person who attacked me be from another world?

Missing Teen Girl Found.

By Shelia Friend

A 15-year-old girl who disappeared in the Copake Falls area has been found. Esmerelda Jean Day is being reunited with her family. Police are categorizing it as a runaway case. She went missing on the 15th of October while taking a shortcut home from school through the woods behind Copake Falls High School.

According to police, she was found by her twin brother, and his friend, Billy Benson at 8:15, October 30th. She was found unharmed, besides a few scratches and torn clothes. While her mental state is still in question. Day claims to have been abducted by aliens. A spokesperson for the family stated, “The family believes that Miss Day is suffering from a mental break down. It’s very sad thing to see in such a young girl. However, with the right medication, she should be back to herself shortly.” Day will remain at Bright Horizon’s hospital under observation. Police say that Day does not have a history of running away.

I fold the paper and hand it back to her. I grew up hearing whispers of the story, but this is the first time I have ever seen physical documentation. When I asked my parents, they told me it was in the past and dredging up old memories would just be bad for Essie.

“I was your age when it happened. I was on my way home, on the same trail where you were today.”

I stare at my soup, my stomach churning.

“At first, I thought he was just a shadow or someone trying to play a trick on me, but the closer I got, I realized it was a man. He was so still and silent, I almost didn’t think he was real, but he was.”

I swallow hard.

“I should have been petrified, should have run screaming, but I wasn’t scared. He told me he wanted to take me to a secret place, and we would be back before anyone would notice I was gone.”

I know how the story ends, with her missing, but I have never heard her version.

“Where did he take you?” my voice comes out just above a whisper.

Essie stares down at her soup with a glazed-over look in her eyes. “I don’t know, it was like a dream, both beautiful and terrifying. There were things that I could not describe, things I don’t want to remember.”

I shiver.

“Then I woke up in the woods alone, and they said I had been gone for two weeks. That’s what they do to you. They make you forget and make it feel like a dream.” She looks up at me, her blue-green eyes burning. “I think I’d better take my medicine now and go to bed.”