by Leah Holt
The pavement had turned to dirt and my muscles recaptured the shadowed feeling of rocking on an uneven, hole-riddled path. There was laughing and giggling as we sang the lyrics to a song we both used to love when we were kids while she waved her hand out the window playfully.
What was it?
Montel Jordan. . . No.
Usher?
Shit I can't remember!
Everything was just blank, a blackness that I couldn't unravel yet.
Do I even want to know?
Maybe my brain was blocking it out, refusing to let me know the horror we went through. Maybe not recalling what had happened was better than knowing the truth.
I can't stay here wondering. . . I have to go home.
Perching my ear, I listened again for any movement outside the door. It sounded quiet enough, barren and empty. Gently gripping the handle, I twisted it as quietly as I could. I wasn't sure what was behind it, but I didn't want any surprises.
Maybe Sara's here, maybe she's out there waiting for me.
Tugging the door open, it creaked softly as I peeked my head out and looked around. Another room, baring the same log walls and more horns, was being lit up by a large crackling fire. An oval shaped, rope rug hid the wood floor in front of a plush, navy blue couch.
Taking a small step out, I held the door in my hand, bracing it like a lifeline back to safety; even though it was more of a coffin than a route to freedom.
If I retracted back into the safety of a solid box, where the hell would that get me?
Nowhere. If I wanted to leave, the only step I could take was forward.
The room in front of me seemed cozy, welcoming even, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to be cautious. I had no plans on just leaping out and announcing I was there.
I wanted to be quiet, maybe try and sneak around to see if I could find my friend. I didn't plan on leaving until I found her, until I knew she was alright.
My eyes were fixed on the bright orange flames, mesmerized by the stone work surrounding the deep basin. There was a mix of rocks in all different sizes and colors, each one meticulously placed into their spot.
The intricate puzzle was beautiful, tempting my eyes to keep still, to take in the amount of time and effort something so amazing would require. Whoever had built such a thing had to be a perfectionist and faultless with their hands.
“You're finally awake, how are you feeling?” The voice snatched my heartbeat, causing me to freeze like a frightened doe in headlights.
“Wh. . . What?” My voice crackled in surprise as I asked, trying to comprehend the question.
I didn't know how to respond or what to say. It could have been the sudden deep tone that frightened me or the fact that I wasn't even sure what I had been through, but I honestly had no clue what the fuck I should have been feeling.
Did the question warrant a response of fear or hatred?
Did they expect me to remember who they were and what happened in the hours prior?
Because I couldn't. I was teetering on the edge of so many different emotions and feelings. What was that theory?
Fight or flight.
No words could have been more true in the moment. My mind was hovering in one space; feeling lost and confused as my body skipped to a different beat; aching from head to toe, but eager to flee.
I hurt everywhere, like I had been tossed off a high cliff and a pile of rocks broke my fall. My head was pounding like my brain had been hit by an oncoming train and every joint was either swollen or bruised.
But all of that, every inch that stung as I made any sort of movement, was nothing compared to the anxiety I felt from not remembering a damn thing.
Turning my face to meet the voice, I inhaled a sharp breath, instinctively raising my hands to cup my mouth.
Stepping out from a dark corner, a man I didn't recognize was holding a small platter with a cup of water and a bowl of food. His head was shaved, a thick beard hid the lower part of his face.
But it didn't hide the sharp angles of his jaw or the full lips that were tucked away in the fuzzy warmth of his facial hair. Dark lashes spanned his lids, forcing his deep brown eyes to sparkle with highlights of amber and gold.
A lump formed in the back of my throat as I watched his muscles roll under the skin while he shifted the tray in his hands. He looked like a mountain man, carved from the very same hard cedar his home was built from.
My stomach began to flutter, twining around itself and coiling up tight. I felt my heart speed up, hammering against my already aching ribs.
Holy hell.
I wasn't sure what I expected this man to look like, but it wasn't that. Men aren't meant to be gorgeous, are they? Because he was, he took my breath away, leaving me even more delirious than when I woke up.
“I asked how you were feeling.” Lifting the tray higher, he switched it in his hands. “Are you hungry?” Squinting one eye, the man cocked his head a hair. “Because you should be hungry, you've been out for days.”
I stood silent, trying to grasp the reality of what he had said.
Wait. . .
What?
Days?
No that couldn't be right. His words rang in my ears, pinging off every brain cell and crashing into a giant heaping pile of shit.
Days?
“Where am I?” Snapping my back straight, I ignored all the pain in my muscles and the heat swelling in my belly, drawing in a stern breath. “What do you mean days? What happened to me?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing, but I'm guessing you don't know either. You really can't remember?”
Shaking my head side to side, my shoulders rolled forward, losing all the strength I had just mustered up. Hearing him say the words sucked out any life I had left inside. I was still stuck at square one, injured and bewildered, angry and scared.
“Can you remember anything at all?”
“Not really, not enough to even begin to understand.” Plucking at my lip, a sharp pain stung my face. “Ah,” I sighed under my breath, stroking my mouth with a tender touch.
“You're lip's split, it's healing, I did the best I could to tend to it, but that's why it hurts.” Nodding his head towards the couch, he turned and walked towards the fire. “Come, sit down and eat.”
I didn't want to follow a strange man deeper into his home, especially one I didn't know at all. But my stomach gurgled in hunger even as I contemplated running.
Glancing at a door to my right, I could see through the window that it led outside. The moon glistened overhead, lighting up the treetops in silver dust and white mist. The freedom of fresh air tickled my feet, making me itch to spring forward and escape.
I could go, run right out that door and take off into the cover of darkness. I could find my way home and find my way out of whatever the fuck I was in.
His gaze turned to stone, watching me cautiously, reading my body and following my eyes. “You want to leave? Is that what you're thinking?” Standing taller, it was like his back lengthened and he grew another five inches before my eyes. “That's not happening, it's pitch black outside, and by the looks of you, you won't get too far. Come eat something, you'll feel better.” Placing the tray onto a small table beside the couch, he rested his hands on his hips. “How far do you think you'd even make it?”
My arms curled over my chest, fingers teasing my hair nervously. I couldn't remember shit. But he had to know something, how could he not?
“How did I get here? Where's my friend Sara?”
“Sara?” Shrugging his shoulders, he sat on the arm of the couch, pressing his palms into his knees. “Sweetheart, you were the only one there when I found you. No one else, not a soul.”
My eyes snapped open, neck twisting around in every direction. “What do you mean? She has to be here!” My lungs began to suck in air, heaving and drowning in the fire smothered oxygen. “Sara! Sara!” Yelling as loud as I could, I began to dart around the room, running towards the kitchen and to the beginni
ng of a hall. “Sara!”
The man's massive hands came down and grabbed my shoulders, spinning me around on the balls of my feet. “She's not here, no one else is here!” Squeezing the tips of his fingers into my forearms, the man loomed over me. “You were the only one out there, just you.” His words softened as his eyes flicked between mine. “I'm telling you the truth, it was only you.”
Confusion began to bore a hole in my brain, turning my thoughts into an oncoming tsunami of questions.
What the hell is going on? Where's Sara?
How did I go missing?
How long have I really been gone?
Chapter Two
Pax
The smoke danced in long coils as it peaked and swirled out from the treetops. It wasn't the first time someone had stumbled onto my property and tried to hunt illegally. It didn't matter how many no trespassing signs I hung up, they all thought they could sneak around and go unnoticed.
Some men made it through, but those were few and far between. Most were met with a gun in their face and a very clear warning that if they ever came back they wouldn't be leaving.
That threat was usually all they needed, I hadn't seen the same face twice.
But I was always watching, always keeping tabs on what was going on in the woods I owned. I moved here to escape the world that had tried to tear me apart. A world filled with too much greed and devastation, a world that far too many people took for granted.
And I would know, I was one of them.
Snatching the gun from my drawer, I tucked it into the back of my pants and flew out the front door like the walls were all burning around me.
The anger was pressing inside me, growing and bubbling with every new intruder that found their way onto my property. I could literally feel the hatred coil like a snake and latch itself around my muscles, digging in with long fangs. My words became more harsh, my need for violence more insatiable, craving for one of them to just challenge me.
No.
I'm not a killer. . . Not anymore.
The billow of thick, gray smoke had started to thin, turning from huge plumes into wispy tails. Picking up the pace, I wanted to make it to the mystery fire before it got too dark.
The fire was at least a half mile out, maybe more. And as well as I knew these woods, the last thing I wanted to do was trip over some newly fallen tree and give away the fact that I was coming. The element of surprise was key to shaking the nerves of whoever tried to hunt on my land.
Some of the antlers and horns I had in my place where ones I found while hiking. I hated finding them, I hated the idea that some asshole had shot and killed a deer or elk and left them there like garbage to rot.
I didn't always think this way, and I won't lie, it's been hell to even get to this point. I felt proud knowing that I could care for something alive. But a man, the life of a man was still more worthless to me than an animal.
At least if I took a life to survive here, it had purpose. I used it, all of it, not an ounce would go to waste. That's the way it should be, not for sport or fun. I worked hard for what I had, but that sense of accomplishment had vanished in the world outside my gates.
If you wanted a piece of steak, you bought it at the store, if you wanted a fresh salad, it came in a bag. If you wanted freedom, you had to fight for it.
No one really understood that concept anymore. People tossed it around like a figurative saying, as if it held the same weight in any context, no matter what you were referring to.
It doesn't.
Freedom is earned, but in reality, no one is really free. I learned that lesson first hand. Too much of my life had been taken from me, I wasn't about to let this new life be tainted by assholes.
The men that took advantage of my woods, they did it for show; whoever had the bigger kill had the bigger balls. It was a game of hierarchy, showing who was in charge and who led the pack. But not here, not in my woods. I wouldn't stand for it.
Fucking pussies.
Real men don't need to prove shit.
Pushing through the thick briers and dense brush, I placed my feet methodically with each step; no sound, no crunch or snap. I was a silent killer, stalking from the shadows and ready to strike.
All the time I spent honing my skills. . . It was embedded in my bones, like a permanent tattoo I couldn't see, but I could sure as hell feel it. I might not be in the thick of it anymore, but sealing myself up in this cocoon didn't do shit to keep the outside world away.
I came here not just for myself, but to protect the world from who I had become. My life had been tarnished, leaving me feeling empty and damaged. Trust was gone, the natural movement of the world was no longer fluid the way it once was.
Every sound brought me back to that place, to the dirt and the dust, to the sounds of gunfire and the stench of death. There was just too much noise for my mind to swallow. I needed the quiet, the soft chirp of crickets and rustle of leaves to ground myself.
When people would show up unwanted, forcing themselves into my world, it seemed to erase everything I had worked so hard for. I hated it.
Voices vibrated the air, swimming through the leaves and bouncing off the trees, leading me in the direction I needed to go. With each step my heart became harder, turning from the muscle that beat life into my veins to a stony oppressive mass.
People had said I was cold-hearted. . .
But that was far too nice of a word. They had no fucking idea.
There was no word in the dictionary that could explain who I was. Not that it mattered anymore, I removed myself from the population.
But even that isolation wasn't enough to silence the demons inside me.
As the sun hit the landscape, slicing itself in half, the red and orange rays burst through the forest, tangling around the branches like the thick fingers of fire.
For a moment I stopped, wanting to take in the only thing I ever really appreciated, the one thing that never changed. The sun had been the only thing in my life to stay constant, it rose in the morning and set in the evening. It was my shoulder to lean on.
But a soft scream shook the serene painting mother nature had started to sketch out. The scream was delicate, filled with a fear that sent goosebumps down my flesh.
My feet shot forward, my brain ignoring the risk that whoever was taking refuge in my woods could now hear me coming from a mile away.
None of that mattered. The woman's scream was enough for me to forget my purpose in the first place. Her tone wasn't highlighted with fun giggles, it was riddled with distress.
Running between the trees and thick foliage, the scent of the fire became stronger and stronger. Hitting the ground harder, I shoved branches away from my body the best I could, just trying to reach the source of the scream.
I could see the faint flicker of dying flames in a clearing, I could hear the sound of thrashing, like something was tangled up and caught.
Launching out into the open space, I yanked my gun from my waist and held it up high. Scanning the clearing, the fire was burning out, smoldering in damp leaves and fresh green branches.
I kept my head up high, searching for the voices, searching for whoever made that horrible scream, but there was no one. No men with guns, no trucks or four-wheelers, just a slow dying fire and an engine fading off into the distance.
Motherfuckers, they must have heard me and bolted.
What was the scream?
Maybe it wasn't a woman at all. . .
There were several different animals in my woods that could have made a sound like that; owls, fisher-cats, it could have been anything. I was pissed at myself for letting my mind flip its switch and think that the noise was a woman screaming.
I let my guard down, stepping back into the war zone and mistaking the cry as human. It was hard to forget what I had seen and heard, it never went away, it only settled into the cavern of my chest, constantly reminding me of what I had done.
I wanted to carve it out with a fucking knife, but n
o matter how hard I tried, nothing worked. It was something I was going to have to live with, to learn to live with.
Tucking the gun back, I started to kick dirt on the pit, suffocating the final flickers and killing the fire. Then I heard it.
A gentle cry echoed from inside a thick bush. Stepping closer, I noticed pink sneakers poking out from under the leaves.
What the hell?
Fanning the brush back, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There was no way in hell that I could have expected to stumble on her in the condition she was in.
A young girl was curled in a tight ball, her knees tucked firmly against her chest. She had trickles of blood coming down her legs and arms, her lip was swollen and split down the center.
Fuck.
Bending down, I brushed her hair from her face and scanned her body. “Are you okay? Who did this to you?”
She didn't answer, the only sound she was making was a gentle and weak cry. “Can you tell me your name?” Picking up her legs softly, I bent her feet up and down, then repeated it with her arms.
Nothing looks broken, that's good.
“Miss, I need you to tell me who did this to you, where did they go?”
Her bottom lip was trembling, that single movement then washed over her body as she began to shake.
Shit!
No. No. No.
“Don't worry, I've got you. I'm getting you out of here.” Reaching an arm under her thighs and one under her shoulder blades, I hoisted her up and pressed her tightly into my chest.
She tried to move, but her body went limp as her head rolled on her neck and into the nook of my arm. The young girl's eyes kept fluttering behind her lids as they opened a sliver, only to close again.
What the fuck happened?
Is she having a seizure?
Squeezing her tighter, her body trembled in my arms. “It's alright, you're safe now, I won't let anything else happen to you.”
A gurgling sound was rattling in the back of her throat, but I couldn't tell if she was trying to speak or if she was choking on her tongue.