by Amy Cross
“It's nothing.”
“It won't heal by itself,” she continues. “Let me help you.”
I want to tell her to go to hell, but somehow deep inside I just don't feel strong enough. Besides, if I'm going to find a way to get out of this crumby place, I need to at least be able to walk. No-one's going to hire me if I'm a goddamn cripple.
“Just my ankle,” I tell her cautiously. “That's the only thing you can fix. It's not that I'm ungrateful, I just... I don't have time to waste.”
“My surgery is in Wallis,” she replies, heading to her car and pulling open the passenger-side door. “I'll drive you there, I'll treat you, and then I'll drive you home, wherever that might be.” She pauses. “Please let me help you. That ankle looks really bad and I hate to think of you struggling along with it. If the skin is cut, you could get an infection, and if it doesn't heal properly you could end up with problems for life.”
Sighing, I start limping toward her. As she steps out of the way, however, I feel a sudden rush of panic and I instinctively look toward the forest. I swear, I can sense something watching me right now, almost as if it's angry that I'm accepting a ride from this stranger.
“You'll be okay,” the woman tells me. “I promise.”
Once I'm inside the car, I fasten my safety belt while the woman gets into the driver's seat. She starts the engine, before grabbing her purse from the dashboard and pulling out an I.D. card from some nearby hospital.
“See?” she says, holding the card up for me to see. “I'm not some random stranger, I really am a doctor. My name's Mary Campion.”
“I believe you,” I reply as she eases the car away from the side of the road and starts driving toward the next junction. “That's not the problem.”
Glancing out the window, I watch as we drive past the forest. I still feel as if something is watching me from in there, but a moment later I'm distracted by the sight of the trailer park as we speed past. I glance back and watch as it recedes into the distance, and I can't help thinking about Rita tucked up in bed, hopefully fast asleep. Sometimes I think my little sister is hard as nails, but other times – including right now – I feel she needs me to keep her safe.
“I'll be back soon,” I imagine myself saying to her. “I promise.”
“It's okay if you don't want to tell me what happened,” Mary says after a moment. “I would like to find a way to help you in the longer term, though. Do you have any addiction problems?”
I lean back and try to ignore the pain in my ankle. “No.”
“Are you sure? I won't -”
“I'm sure!” I hiss, almost losing my temper before forcing myself to stay calm.
“This is delicate,” she continues, “but do you have a problem with someone assaulting you? A parent, maybe, or a partner?”
“No,” I reply quickly. “It's nothing like that.”
“Do you have any I.D. on you?” she asks. “I promise you won't have to pay for anything, but when we get to my office it'd be a lot easier if I can log you into the system.” She waits for me to answer. “Unless you're in trouble with the police, or something like that?”
I pause for a moment, before slipping Glenda's I.D. card from my pocket and holding it out for her.
“Glenda Rabindale?” she reads. “Mind if I grab that?”
I let her take the card. It's not really me, so who cares?
“Okay, this'll be enough to get you into the computer system,” she explains. “Mind if I hang onto it? Just until we get to the office, and then I'll give it back to you.” She glances at the card again, almost as if she's noticed that I don't look totally like the girl in the picture.
“Sure,” I tell her. “As long as I get it back. I just -”
Before I can finish, I swear to God I feel something nudging against my conscious thoughts, as if some kind of presence reached out from the forest and briefly curled its way into my mind.
“What the hell?” I whisper, sitting up straight.
“Something wrong?” Mary asks.
“No, just...” I watch the forest as we continue to drive around its boundary. “If I tell you what's really happening, I think you'll get me put in a mental hospital.”
“I wouldn't do that,” she replies, keeping her eyes on the empty road ahead. “I promise I won't judge you.”
“I feel like I'm cracking up,” I continue, finally allowing myself to consider the possibility that she cares. “I haven't really been able to talk to anyone about it, 'cause I'm worried they'll think I'm some kind of complete lunatic.”
“That's not the kind of label I ever use,” she says calmly. “Anything you tell me is strictly confidential. I won't reveal it to anyone. Are you sure you're not in some kind of trouble with the police?”
I shake my head.
“You're going to have to trust me at some point,” she continues. “Or if not me, then someone else. Sometimes I think one of the hardest parts about growing up is learning that you don't have to go through everything alone. No matter how bad things seem -”
“What was that?” I ask, suddenly feeling a tap on my shoulder. I turn and look at the back seat, but there's nothing there.
“What was what?” Mary asks.
“It's in here,” I stammer, unable to contain my sense of panic. “I don't know how, but it's reaching out and it's in the car with us!”
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” she replies, “but -”
“Stop!” I shout, reaching down to unbuckle my safety belt. “It's here, it's -”
Suddenly Mary spins the steering wheel, sending the car whipping around with its tires screeching before it flips over. The force of the first impact sends my head banging against the window and for a moment everything goes black. I don't pass out, not entirely, and I can just about feel the car rolling several more times as it smashes along the road. Shaken around like a rag-doll, held in place only by my safety belt, I squeeze my eyes tight shut as I hear glass breaking and metal being torn apart. I try to scream, but the sheer force of the spinning car is almost enough to crush my chest. This lasts for several seconds, until there's one more heavy impact and the car seems to roll back slightly, eventually come to a halt upside down.
I wait for a moment, trying to get my breath back, before slowly opening my eyes and finding that I'm hanging from my seat with the safety-belt tight around my chest and arms.
“Mary?” I whisper, turning to look over at the driver's seat, only to find that there's no sign of her. I blink a couple of times, too shocked to think straight, before realizing that the windshield has been blown out. “No,” I stammer, turning and looking back along the road.
I spot her immediately.
Her body is on the tarmac, and I can already see that her limbs are at unnatural angles. There's also a dark stain under her head, which I instantly realize must be blood.
She must have forgotten to fasten her safety-belt, but then... Why did she turn the wheel like that? It's almost as if, for one brief second, some other force took control of her body.
“Mary!” I shout, desperately hoping that she's okay. “Mary, get up!”
Realizing that I have to get out of here, I fumble to get free from my belt and then I drop down onto the car's upturned ceiling. My body is stiff and sore, but I'm able to climb out through the broken windshield and then I crawl across the tarmac until I'm clear of the car, at which point I struggle to my feet, letting out a gasp in the process as I once again feel the pain in my left ankle. I try to limp forward, but the agony is unbearable and I quickly realize that there's no way I can walk properly. By the time I get to Mary, I'm in so much pain that I let out a gasp as I drop to my knees. It's only now that I see strips of torn flesh on my hands, which I guess must be from the shattered windshield.
“Can you hear me?” I ask, leaning over Mary and seeing that her face is covered in blood, as if the flesh was partially scraped away by the tarmac. Her eyes are closed, and I'm about to roll her over when I
see that there's a thick, bloody wound on the left side of her neck, with pieces of glass poking out. My first instinct is to pull the glass out, but at the last moment I realize that might be a mistake so I simply leave her unturned and check her pulse instead. I feel a flash of relief when I find that her heart is still beating, but she's clearly weak and -
“Bring her to me,” a voice hisses suddenly.
I spin around, my heart racing as I look back toward the upturned car, but there's no sign of anyone.
“Bring her to me,” the voice says again, and this time I can tell that it's whispering directly into my mind.
I glance toward the forest, and once again I feel certain that something is watching me.
“Who are you?” I ask, my voice pained and weak. “What -”
“Bring her to me!” the voice snarls, and suddenly Mary's body is dragged several feet across the rough tarmac, bumping toward the edge of the forest.
“No!” I reach out and grab Mary's arm as her body comes to a stop on the grass.
“Pick her up,” the voice continues, echoing against the inside of my skull, “and bring her to me.”
“What are you?” I shout, with tears streaming down my face as I stare into the darkness between the trees.
“You can't fight me,” the voice replies. “I'll give you anything you want, I've already told you that so many times during our nights together. Just bring her to me and -”
“No!” I shout, before putting my arms under Mary and getting ready to pick her up. As soon as I try, however, I feel an immense pain in my ankle and I drop down, letting out a cry.
“Where do you think you're going?” the voice asks, sounding amused.
I glance both ways along the road, but there's no sign of anyone coming this way. Reaching under Mary again, I brace myself for the pain and then I pick her up. My ankle is agony but somehow I'm able to turn and start limping away, slowly carrying Mary along the road. Every step brings excruciating pain, but I can't just leave her here.
“I'm going to get you to a hospital,” I tell her, my voice trembling with fear. “It's okay, I'll -”
Suddenly she's torn from my arms, and although I try to grab hold of her I'm powerless as her bloodied body is pulled through the air until she lands in a crumpled heap at the edge of the forest. Dropping to the ground, I feel a broken bone slicing through my ankle from the inside and I let out a cry of pain, but I immediately start crawling back along the road to get to Mary. When I reach her, I find that the glass has torn more of her neck.
“I will have her one way or the other,” the voice sneers. “It would be better for you, however, if you're the one who brings her to me.”
“What do you want with her?” I shout.
“She won't die, not in here. For as long as she stays in the forest, she won't be able to die.”
“What are you?” I whisper, before suddenly Mary's body is dragged several more feet toward the edge of the forest. As she comes to a rest on the grass, she lets out a faint murmur of pain.
“It's okay,” I stammer, crawling toward her, “I'll -”
Before I can get another word out, her body is lifted up and pulled away from the road, landing in a heap between the trees. I watch in horror as she's dragged along the dirty ground, as if some unseen force is pulling her deeper and deeper into the forest.
“No!” I scream, struggling to my feet and limping after her, only to drop to my knees again. “Stop!”
“Come with her,” the voice whispers. “I need someone to look after my friends. I have an assistant, but I've grown tired of my deal with him and I would prefer it if you took his place.”
“Bring her back!” I shout, watching as Mary is dragged further away, until finally I lose sight of her in the darkness of the forest.
“Come,” the voice continues. “You wouldn't abandon her, would you? Just come into the forest and everything will be okay. I'll give you anything you want, but first you have to come.”
I know I should go after Mary, but deep down I can already tell that if I go into the forest again, I might never be let out.
“Rita,” I whisper, pulling back. “I can't leave Rita.”
“Don't think of your old life,” the voice whispers. “Think of the paradise I'm offering you. No-one has ever managed to resist me this way. Night after night, I've been tempting you and you've always managed to stay strong, and this fascinates me greatly. I want you, and I always get what I want.”
Shaking my head, I turn and start crawling away. When I spot Mary's I.D. card on the ground, among shattered glass and other items that flew out of the crashed car, I realize that my I.D., the card I borrowed from Glenda, must still be in Mary's coat pocket. I reach out and pick up Mary's card, and although I don't look anything like her, I figure I might be able to use some of the information or trade it or sell it or...
Not really knowing what I'm going to do, I pocket the card and struggle to my feet, before starting to limp along the road. A moment later, hearing a loud grinding sound, I turn just in time to see Mary's car being dragged across the tarmac by some unseen force, and I watch in shock as the vehicle starts slowly rolling up the hill and into the forest. Just as I'm about to turn and limp away, I realize that all the broken glass and other debris is being pulled in as well, as if the voice is tidying up the mess.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper, turning and hobbling away as tears stream down my face. “Please don't hate me, Mary. I have to help my sister. I hope you understand.”
“Come back,” the voice says firmly.
“Go to hell.”
“You can't resist me,” the voice continues. “No-one can. I'll give you anything you want, and I ask for so little in return.”
Ignoring the offer, I make my way toward the next junction.
“Will you really leave this poor woman alone in the forest?” the voice continues. “She'll be so scared when she wakes up. You could take care of her.”
I swallow hard, while forcing myself to hold back.
“Come back!” the voice screams suddenly, as its anger overflows. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was throwing a tantrum. “No-one has ever resisted me! You will come into the forest right now and give me what I want!”
My step falters for a moment, due to the sheer volume of the sound in my head, but I keep walking.
“You can't do this!” the voice shouts. “You're not strong enough, no-one is strong enough! I'll give you everything you want, but you have to obey me!”
Reaching the junction, I'm about to take the right turn and head toward the trailer park when I realize that I have a better idea. There's a guy in the next town along who might be able to give me some money for Mary's I.D. card, and who might even be able to hook me up with a quick way to make some money. I've resisted going to him so far, because I don't want to get messed up in anything illegal, but right now I need money fast and I don't have the luxury of waiting. I pause for a moment, still hearing that voice in my head, and then I turn and take the road that leads away to the left, away from the trailer park and the forest.
“It's okay, Rita,” I whisper, as the voice continues to scream at me. “I'm going to get us both out of here, I swear.”
IV
Today
“Getting out, huh?” the guard says with a smile as she takes a box down from the shelf. She glances at the label on the side. “Shannon Lucy Bone. How long you been in this place, Shannon Bone?”
“Two years,” I reply, feeling sick to my stomach. I don't want to talk, I don't want to say a goddamn thing, but as the guard places the box in front of me and goes over to the other desk, I know I have to go through the full process. With trembling hands, I unfasten the latch on the front of the box and open the lid, only to feel a shiver run through my body when I see the clothes I was wearing two years ago when I was arrested. They haven't even been washed, and I can see a faint brown patch on the fabric.
Blood.
“Got anyone coming to pick y
ou up?” the guard asks.
“No-one,” I mutter, holding up my tattered shirt.
“No family?”
“They don't know I've been in prison,” I reply.
“Not at all?”
“I didn't want them to know,” I continue, going through the rest of the box but not finding much. “I wasn't exactly proud of getting picked up for stealing liquor.”
“Drink problem, huh?”
“It wasn't for me,” I mutter, disgusted by the idea. “I was supposed to sell it, but...” My voice trails off as I think back to that moment two years ago.
“So where do they think you've been?” the guard asks. “Your family, I mean.”
I shrug. “My mother's probably too drunk to care, and my sister...” My voice trails off for a moment as I think of Rita, struggling along at the trailer park. To be honest, I've tried to put her out of my mind as much as possible, to tell myself that she's fine and that she's better off without me. Hell, two years ago I was hallucinating all sorts of crazy stuff, and hearing a voice intruding into my thoughts. Since I've been in prison, however, I've come to realize that the voice was just part of my breakdown. At least, that's what the psychiatrists and psychologists have told me, and I think I believe them.
Maybe.
Either way, Rita's been better off without me. At least she doesn't have the shame of knowing that I'm a criminal. I tried to rob that store because I needed money, because I wanted to rent an apartment and because I wanted to go back for Rita. I tried to take a shortcut and I paid for it. Even now, I feel too humiliated to go back to the trailer park, so I guess I'll just let Rita think I'm gone forever. Maybe I'll write to her and let her know I'm alive, but other than that she's better off without me. Hell, by now she's probably doing just fine, she's probably found a way out for herself. I'd just hold her back.