by K. Webster
The heat warms the space quickly and I’m thankful. I should eat something from my pack or drink water from one of the bottles I brought. Anything but sit here and feel sorry for myself. I just don’t have the energy or the willpower.
My tears have run dry. They burn and sting. The ache in my chest feels as though it’ll be a permanent part of me. I’ll have to learn to get used to it. To cheer myself up, I think about Phoebe and Joey. Their antics. Ross and Rachel’s annoying way of never getting together and staying together. And finally, I think about Chandler and Monica. Those two don’t cheer me up at all. Those break my heart even further.
A big yawn has my eyelids drooping and me slumping over. Tomorrow will be a better day. I’ll regroup and figure out what to do next. Until then, I’ll sleep away the pain.
Two days later…
“That’s a good boy,” I praise when Blind Bear trots back with a dead squirrel in his mouth.
Before BB, I’d relied on my traps. With him, I just have to tell him to get it and he does. It’s nice having a dog to hunt with me. I scratch him behind the ears and then use my knife to hack off the squirrel’s tail. It’ll give him something to play with until I can cook it for us.
At home.
My home.
We set off from Reed’s hunting cabin early this morning. It took a couple of days to recover from the loss of Atticus and then the chase with the man. I needed my energy before trekking to my home.
The sun is burning bright in the sky, blinding me with its reflection on the snow. I’m squinting and stumbling slightly when I see it. A little shack in the forest.
Home.
Warmth doesn’t flood me.
Only cold.
For so long, it was just me with them. Scared and lonely without my sister. They twisted up their own wants and made me feel as though I had to do as they said.
Never again.
Atticus, though it hurts to think about him, trained me in a different way. Showed me small things to make me happy. Treated me as though I were something he cherished and loved. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t continuously afraid. He gave me a strength I didn’t know I needed.
He’s gone, but I’m still strong.
It buzzes in my veins.
An ember that’s caught flame and become an inferno.
Anger and determination obliterate despair. It’s all I have left.
“We’re home,” I tell BB. “It’ll have to do.”
He barks as though he understands and trots off. I stuff the dead squirrel in my pocket before walking over to a large tree beside the shack. It’s where everyone I loved is buried. Not my father or my brothers. Papa and Ezekiel were killed in Reed’s hunting cabin. I’m not sure what he ever did with their bodies. My other three brothers were left in my shack after Reed slaughtered them. One by one, I dragged them down to the river. I wanted them away from me. The river did the job for me.
No, under the tree is my mother and my sister Esther.
And them.
Kneeling at the base of the tree, I push snow away from their spot. When I reach the ground, I find four stones. Beneath each stone are the tiny little things I somehow loved even though it didn’t make sense.
They weren’t like Devon’s children she bore. I’d watched the birth of Rowdy—assisted even—and it was not the same. She screamed and pushed and worked to get that giant baby out of her womb. It kicked and howled and breathed life. Devon went on to birth two more. Children that would grow to cry and laugh and crawl and talk. These were different.
Bloody.
Tiny.
Incomplete.
My body seemed to reject them, painfully so. Thankfully, each time one would come out, I would get myself alone, squat, and pull it out of me. It wasn’t like when she gave birth. Not even close.
Mine never made sounds.
They never cried or squawked.
Not once did they ever move.
But I cried for all four of them. Each and every time. I kissed their tiny skulls that resembled a baby squirrel’s and named them all.
Love. Mercy. Faith. Goodness.
I sang my mother’s favorite hymns as I buried them.
I buried my little beings between my mother and my sister so they’d never be alone. So they’d never be cold or hungry or sad.
For a few moments, I sit in the quiet as I think about them. As I dream about what they could have been had they had a strong father like Atticus. They might have grown to be loud and busy like Rowdy. Always smiling like Ronan. Or a little fussy boy like Ryder. If Atticus were their father rather than Papa or my brothers, they would’ve had beautiful smiles. Infectious laughs. Generous hearts.
I start to cry, hating that I always cry when I think about him. I hastily swipe at my tears and stand. Blind Bear cocks his head at me, his fluffy tail wagging.
“Let’s get a fire lit and get dinner cooked.”
He barks.
And tomorrow, we’ll start anew.
* * *
* * *
Two months later…
I snort at the television, trying to squint my eyes so Monica will become one person instead of two blurry ones. No matter how many times I blink or rub at my eyes, I still can’t make out her form.
And it pisses me right the fuck off.
With a rage-filled roar, I throw my nearly gone bottle of Jack Daniel’s at the television. It makes a loud thwap sound before going black. I can’t tell if I’ve cracked it or shattered it. Hell, I can’t tell anything anymore.
Everything’s a blur.
Nothing makes sense.
Now that the television is silent, I’m bombarded with thoughts I try every day to ignore. Thoughts that rape my mind whether I like it or want it. Always there. Fucking me painfully. Against my will. Goddamn abuse.
Her.
My thoughts always go to her.
Little fox.
Cousin.
Behind every angry growl of frustration is heartache and loss. But more importantly, guilt.
What I did was wrong.
I just dropped her off at Reed’s. Dumped her into his lap as though she were his problem now. I didn’t even fucking stay to tell him my sob story. Just dump and run.
Deep down, I know she’ll be fine with them. Reed and Devon have always looked after Eve over the years, bringing her care packages and trying to get close to her. Maybe, this time, she’ll even speak more than a couple words to them or try and get to know them better.
Or, in typical Eve fashion, she may just bail.
That’s where the guilt really starts to gnaw at me. What if she left? What if she’s hurt? What if another bear got her? I lie awake at night, my heart racing in my chest, as I worry about if she has enough to eat or if she’s warm or if she’s scared.
So many times, I make a decision in my head. Just go to her. I’ll get as far as getting the truck packed. And then my head catches up to my heart. It reminds me things can’t go back to the way they were. She’s family. I can’t continue fucking her. It’s not right.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
They’ve all tried to come by—Ma, Will, Vic, Judith. I never answer. I don’t pick up the phone. All I do is make frequent runs to the liquor store and try to drown in Jack. I just want the pain inside my chest to lessen.
It. Never. Lessens.
Each day it grows maddeningly worse.
I need her.
Fuck, how I need her.
I hear the jangle of keys and I roll my eyes. So far, no one has tried to come inside, knowing I need the space. This person doesn’t care.
“The place smells like a distillery, son.”
Dad’s gruff voice echoes through my cabin. I don’t even bother turning to look at him. I manage out a grunt and that’s it.
He closes the door behind him and then I hear him rooting around in the kitchen. The smell of coffee suddenly permeates the air. It reminds me of Eve. She loved coffee. God, she loved everything. Nearly ev
ery single thing I’d offer her, she’d be in happy awe over.
Dad turns on the overhead light in the living room and begins picking up the shards of glass. I close my eyes, not interested in looking at him. A few minutes later, he sets a steaming mug beside me on the end table. He drags a chair from the kitchen into the living room and sits it right in front of me. Sipping from his mug, he leans back in the wooden chair and studies me.
“You look like shit,” he finally says.
“Yeah, well, you have two heads, so I guess we’re even.”
He snorts. “You’re wasted.”
“So?” Anger swells up inside me like a tidal wave of lava—hot, bubbly, violent.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” I spit out. “The fact I fucked my cousin?”
Rather than be shocked like I expected, he shrugs. “Sure. Let’s talk about it.”
I shoot him a nasty glare. “This fucking funny to you?”
His brow deepens. “The fact my son is a damn near alcoholic and suffering severe depression? Real fucking funny. What kind of asshole do you think I am?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know she was family. I should have known, right? She has your eyes, Dad.”
Dad leans forward to set his mug down beside mine and then pats my knee. I blink a few times and squint, bringing him back into focus. His brown eyes are full of concern.
“It’s coincidence of the century, sure, but there’s no way you could have known.” His words are soft, tentative. “You can’t let your life turn to shit over this, Atticus.”
Without her, I don’t have a life.
For years, I’ve worried about this girl. Her well-being has been on the back of my mind for a long ass time. Then, when I brought her here, everything changed. She breathed life into my mundane world and gave me something I’d been missing. Love, companionship, friendship. She filled holes in me that, in the past, only certain people could fill. Eve filled me to the brim with her. Every day was just her.
God, I was so fucking happy.
“You know,” he says, his voice turning wistful. “When I was a youngster and was seeing your mom, we knew it was wrong of her to be underage and myself older.” He pauses to scratch at his beard. “We didn’t care. Our love was all that mattered.”
I pick up my coffee and sip it. The burn feels good on my throat. It punishes me for driving her away.
He continues. “We were going to run away. So we could be together. I didn’t want to go to prison and your mom didn’t want to leave my side. Though we were so careful, people started to connect the dots that we were together.” He frowns. “Your mother was only fifteen when we first slept together. I was old enough to do hard time for that shit.”
I wince, not truly down for hearing about their sex life. But the taboo element keeps me interested.
“Anyway, we were all packed and ready, your mom pregnant with Will, when her dad pulled us aside. He told me he didn’t give a rat’s ass that I was older. What he cared about was her happiness. And if I made her happy, then I needed to remain in her life. He said he couldn’t live without his happy little girl, so that meant there were just some things he had to accept.”
“This is different and you know it,” I growl, chugging more of the hot coffee.
“Is it? Because in the eyes of the law, her being underage was every bit as a fucked up situation as you sleeping with your cousin.”
“It was…it was more than just sleeping with her,” I croak out, hating that my eyes burn with unshed tears. “I loved her. Fuck, I still do. I can’t erase her from my mind. I can’t pull her claws from my heart. She owns me and I don’t know what to do about it.”
Dad gives me a soft smile and squeezes my knee. “She makes you happy. Right now, you’re a miserable shit.”
I snort and flip him off.
“I love you, son, and it’s quite clear that you love her. If you want to be with Eve, then you have your answer. Just like my siblings fell in love. They ran off to be together. No one chased them and no one will chase you. But as your father, I can’t sit here and watch you drink yourself to death.”
“You’re giving me permission to fuck my cousin?” I bark out a cold laugh. “Right. Okay.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back. “I’m telling you to do whatever makes you happy, boy. All those years of you traipsing through the woods? That made you happy. Not abiding by the town rules and society. You loved to go out there and be your own man. No matter how hard you tried, you didn’t fully fit in regular, everyday life. You living in this remote cabin and still spending most of your days out there in the wild is a testament to that.”
“I…I…I hurt her.”
“I saw the fire in that girl’s eyes. Takes a lot to keep her down.”
“You don’t understand,” I choke out. “I abandoned her. She thought…she called me her husband. What kind of husband drops their wife off in the middle of the damn woods? I fucking failed her.” Tears leak down my cheeks and I swipe them away hastily. I’ve never in my adult life cried in front of my dad except when I brought Judith to him after a long, exhausting search.
“I failed your mother plenty of times,” he says. “Ask her. When we dated and then after marriage. So many times I just did stupid shit that made her crazy. But guess what? She’s my wife. And you know what wives do?”
I stare at him dumbly. I don’t fucking know.
“They stick with you through the thick and the thin. Good and bad. Sickness and in health. The whole gig. All of it. Wives are goddamn angels.”
“She’s not really my wife,” I grumble. “Though try convincing her.”
“Then I only see one solution here and it isn’t to continue drinking yourself into liver failure.”
“If I go to her…if I’ll willingly be with her…” I scrub my palm down my face. “I’m disobeying the law.”
“You were doing that anyway when you thought she was sixteen.”
God, I forget how much he and Will are alike and their uncanny ability to put all the puzzle pieces together with just a sliver of information.
“She’s my…it’s incest, Dad.”
“Eve is a product of incest. Try convincing her it’s wrong.”
I let out a dark laugh. “I can’t convince her of shit. She’s the most stubborn woman I know.”
He smiles. “No one has to know, kiddo. For as little as you come to town, it won’t be an issue. I’ve already talked to the family about it. We all agreed this is Knox family business. No one else’s. And at the end of the day, we take care of our own. You and Eve included.”
My heart does a painful thud in my chest. “What if I go and she hates me? It’s been two months, Dad. What if she’s…” Dead. Pain lances through me.
“If she hates you, it’ll only be temporary. Trust me. You woo the shit out of her, grovel like a motherfucker, and then you claim your woman.”
Each thump of my heart reminds me I’m alive and my wife is out there. I just need to go find her. I need to get her back. For the first time since Dad explained who she was, I feel hope.
“What if she can’t get past it?”
“She will.”
“What if…Dad, what if she’s dead?”
His lips purse together as he scrutinizes me. “You think she is?”
“Honestly…no.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because she’s wild fire with a spine of steel. Deadly and fierce. She’s a survivor and she doesn’t give up. That girl is stubborn as hell, which serves her well out there.”
“And what are you, Atticus?”
I sit up, my blood burning hot with the desire to hunt, claim, and love. “I’m her husband.”
“So start acting like it.”
* * *
* * *
Running.
Running.
Running.
Despite every protesting muscle
in my body, I push forward with one goal in mind. Get away from him. The man I’ve taken to calling Wretch in my head, stalks us. Blind Bear and I had fallen into a quiet routine. Away from everyone. Introspective. Living each day to survive and nothing more. If I was hunting or scavenging or building something, then I wasn’t thinking about him.
Not Wretch.
Atticus.
Rather than weaken me with the usual ache in my chest, I use him in this moment. I think of his protective nature and strong presence. I draw from him, sucking air into my smarting lungs, and then harness the way it always felt to be near him. Safe. Cared for. Loved. It stokes my inner fire and gives me the fuel I need to keep running.
Wretch must have stolen more guns from Atticus’s trailer because he shoots at me with a rifle. The bullets whizz through the air, but BB and I are too far ahead of him to reach us. Had he not stopped to set my shack on fire, we’d be dead already. But because he’d been preoccupied with trying to burn down the home with us in it, BB and I were able to bolt.
I passed Reed’s hunting cabin ages ago, which means I’ll hit the stairs soon. I just hope I can make it up the steps without getting shot.
I have to get to Reed.
He’ll know what to do.
It’s what Atticus would want me to do.
As much as I want to hate Atticus, I can’t. I don’t. He’s my Atticus. Even if I can’t have him. He’ll always be mine. My heart starts to ache when I think about his handsome face that I almost miss the stairs. Blind Bear, having already familiarized himself with all the paths in the past two months, doesn’t miss it and bounds up ahead of me. I hobble after him, weak and tired.
Whizz. Whizz.
Two bullets hit the stairs near me, making me scream in shock. I continue up the steps, trying desperately to outrun him. Wretch is relentless. If he didn’t always catch me off guard, I would show him how it feels to be stalked and terrorized.