The Break-Up Retreat(58)

It’s so real I can hear it, clear as day. Hear her voice calling out: “Isobel! ”

She’ll apologize. She’ll have some very good excuse for why she was late. And I’ll be angry with her, angry that she wasn’t here on time, and she’ll ask if I was scared, and I’ll deny it.

But it never comes.

The ringing emptiness is all there is.

The wind starts up again, the stillness just a temporary refuge, and the whistling through the treetops is louder than before, bringing with it the scent of rain and electricity; a warning.

I can’t stay here.

“Sandra, I’m going,” I say, testing out the thought.

I can’t stay out here. I’ll find her tomorrow, and we’ll talk then. But I can’t be out here, on my own, in the woods at night.

Animals are not the only danger that might be lurking out here.

“I’m going,” I call out, seemingly to no one, and I begin to turn.

Just then, there’s a sound.

Voices, in the distance. A murmur, near drowning in the sound of the wind.

But then, rising above it, is something else.

A crack.

And a scream, short and piercing, ringing out all around me.

And I swear, that I hear in it, my name.

“Isobel! ”





Chapter 31


Hands shaking, heart pounding, I stand perfectly still. I hold my breath, listening.

But the woods around me have gone quiet.

I don’t know where the scream came from. But it was short. Sharp and violent.

It was Sandra. I’m sure.

Opening my mouth, I try to call for my friend. To find out where she is. So I can help.

But her name dies on my lips.

I have frozen in place. I can’t move. I can’t speak.

I need to be as small as possible. And still.

Someone hurt Sandra. Someone hurt her, and they’re out here, and so are you.

Small and unprotected.

You can’t see them. You can’t hear them.

You have to hide. You have to make sure they don’t see you.

Be small and still and silent.

I’m shaking. I can smell the scent of my own fear, rising from my skin. Harsh and metallic.

If I can smell it, does that mean they can, too? That other in the woods?

Can they see me?

They got Sandra. They’re going to get me, too.

Are they already creeping closer? Rock or knife or something else in hand?

I look to the left, to the right. It’s all the same. It’s all just gray on blue on black, shadows layered over shadows.

If I don’t move, I’ll end up a heap of forgotten bones on the forest floor, rotting under the twisted roots.

A drop of cold water hits my scalp, and I flinch away from the tree, taking one long step and landing on a fallen branch. It cracks with a sound as loud as a gunshot, and I freeze again, holding my breath.

I have to get out of here. I have to get out and tell someone. I have to get back to the light, back to safety.

I just want to go home. I don’t want to do this, anymore.

The woods sound like they’re breathing around me. Some ancient, thousand-fingered monster, buried in the earth, slowly waking.

A whisper, travelling on the coming storm. Just a few steps away. Something shifting, in the dark, separating itself from the dozens and hundreds of stark, black trees; moving closer, on light feet.

“Isobel.”

I turn, and start to run.

My feet hurt, equal parts cutting pain and cold. My chest is aching. The taste of adrenaline floods my mouth, dizzying.

I can no longer remember where I came from; everywhere around me is forest. I can’t see where the light is.

A branch catches me in the face, and I cry out, but I don’t stop.

Have to get away. Have to get to safety.

Where is safety? I don’t know. All I know is the animal instinct. Life, light, warmth, people.

Protect me from what resides in the dark.

My foot catches, my ankle twisting; a lightning bolt of pain running up my leg. I fall, trying to catch myself, banging my head, biting my tongue, mouth filling with blood.

Have to get up. Have to get to my feet. Have to keep running.

My father’s voice, words long since worn thin and old, echoing.

You can’t show that you’re scared. You’ll give away the game. That’s the important thing. As long as you keep playing, you’re safe.

I gave away the game.

Did they get Sandra? Or did she tell them? Did they scare her into complacency? Did she trade herself for me?

I will never leave these woods. Will never leave this place.

As I lie there, on the harsh, prickly floor of the forest, I turn my head, pulse drumming in my ears, and I see it.

A glimpse of unnatural light.

A lamp, through a window.

It’s just a few feet away. One of the cabins.

I’ve run around, parallel to the tree line.

The wind calms, for just a few moments, and I hear it again. Steps. No more than ten, twenty yards away. And breathing; heavy, labored.

This time, there’s no denying it. I might have imagined the person by the pond, last night. Might have told myself I was frightening myself.

But this is real. There’s someone out here, with me. And it’s not Sandra.