by E Cleveland
More than that, I won’t be able to enjoy the rest of my night if my fans don’t care about what I’m doing. Every time the counter by the empty little heart jumps up in numbers, it fills my empty little heart with pride. The social media love soars past my magic thousand in less than twenty seconds and my nerves calm. I casually lay my phone on the hot tub ledge and protect it from the water with my big, fuzzy towel as the moment of anxiety rolls off my shoulders.
“Of course, everyone will love it.” Ben sits between us, wrapping his arms around our shoulders and pulling us both in tight. “It’s got two of the most beautiful women on the Internet in it, so quit worrying and let’s get back to our party.” He smiles. I feel myself relax in his half-hug; especially once Kate’s scowl begins to transform into a sly smile.
“Hey, and what am I? Huh? Chopped liver?” Stacey calls out. We all turn toward her. “You couldn’t say the three most beautiful women? Like, what am I? Some kind of ugly duckling then?” She pouts.
“Of course not. I meant three. My mistake.” Ben soothes her bruised ego with a slick smile. I don’t think there’s a woman on this earth who can resist his charm. The way he can make his green eyes twinkle when his sultry smile spreads over his boyish features, it makes every girl I know flush with excitement.
“Okay, I’ll let it slide this time.” She stands up and tugs on Tom’s hand, eager to get the rest of their night started.
“You’re the most beautiful woman in my book.” Tom stands up next to her and helps her out of the tub, wrapping a towel around her. I try not to notice that his “little Tom” is standing at attention, pressed up against his dripping trunks. It’s hard to ignore.
Luckily Romeo on Roids takes his little, and I do mean little, distraction into their bedroom and Stacey follows, slamming the door behind them.
“I should get some more wood for the fire,” Kate announces, snapping my attention back to our party of three in the hot tub.
“I think we’re all right, aren’t we?” I squint, forcing my eyes to focus on the small pile of logs beside the roaring fireplace.
“Nah, I could use the fresh air anyway. Besides, you can never have too much wood, right?” She smirks and stands up, running her fingers underneath her bikini bottoms. She frees them from where they were wedged between her ass cheeks before getting out and grabbing a robe.
“Whatever you say.” I laugh. I find it’s best to ignore Kate. Letting her make a big deal out of anything gives her exactly the attention she’s desperate for.
I should know. I’m desperate for that same attention.
6
Elsie
I lean over the rim of the tub and laugh as one of the jets almost takes my top off. Giggling, I move over and grab the bottle of Dom. “Want a top up?” I ask Ben in the sultriest voice I can manage.
“Hmm?” He looks over at me slowly, dragging his eyes off Kate’s grand exit into the snow. She’s heading out to the woodshed behind our cabin. If I had to guess, it’s probably not so much for “fresh air” as it is to smoke. No matter how many times I tell her it’s a disgusting habit that’s going to give her wrinkles, she won’t quit.
“Oh, uh, no,” he answers. “I’m going to give Kate a hand out there. I don’t want her to knock wood down on herself or freeze.” He quickly makes his way from the tub and dries off before throwing on his robe and walking out.
What a gentleman. I sigh, letting the contentment of this moment wash over me like one of the jets in this tub. I fill the champagne to the top of my crystal glass, watching the bubbles slink up the side and burst on the surface. Taking a huge mouthful, I slowly swallow, letting my mind wander.
It wasn’t that long ago that all of this would’ve been beyond my wildest dreams. It’s amazing how far I’ve come. Not to mention what I’ve overcome. My thoughts are shrouded with childhood memories I’d rather have erased from my brain forever.
No.
I won’t let my moment in the sun be clouded over by the dark storms of my past. I’m going to enjoy every second of this. I have a hot man, I’m popular, I have powerful friends, money. This is the life. Who cares where it all began?
I pick up my cell and check on my account one more time. Both my butt selfie and my group picture are burning up with online love. I can’t help but smile at the screen. It’s like I can feel the adoration those little emoji hearts represent pouring out to me. It fills my soul to know there are so many people out there who care about me. Who love me.
After another sip of my champagne, I’m surprised that I’m already down to the last gulp in the glass. Wow. That went fast. Where the hell is Kate? What’s taking her and Ben so long?
Standing up on wobbly legs, I fall back down on my famously big ass, making a big splash in the hot water. Laughter bursts from my lips at my lack of grace. Good thing no one caught that in a photo.
This time, I manage to get my feet under me a little more sturdily and step out of the tub carefully, so I don’t slip and crack my head on the floor. I pluck the thick, plush towel from the side of the hot tub and carefully pat myself dry before wrapping it around me. Grabbing my phone from the ledge, I walk over to the door of the chalet. I stare out the window, but don’t see any sign of my stepsister, sorry, my foster sister, or my fiancé. God, I hope they haven’t passed out or something. I’d hate to have to get Tom and Stacey to help me drag them in here.
Placing my dry feet in my fur-lined boots, I yank open the door and brave the cold to take a quick peek around the property for them.
Brrr. A shiver runs down my spine and I tighten the towel around me as I walk faster past the woodshed. I stop in my tracks. What is that?
I swear I can hear a chipmunk chattering, but when I look around, I don’t see anything. I know it’s not my imagination, though, it’s actually getting louder as I step quietly toward the wood supply. My gut sinks as I start to make sense of what that noise could be in my drunken mind. I walk through the snow, behind the woodshed, and stop dead in my tracks.
Ben is standing behind Kate, her bikini bottoms around her ankles and his trunks pulled down to his thighs. He’s fucking her like a wild animal, fast, forcefully, from behind. Her chipmunk chatter fills the air. “That’s right, mmmm, like that. Fuck me, Ben. Deeper.” She doesn’t notice me. Neither of them does. Standing in the snow, watching my fiancé fuck my foster sister, like a fucking idiot.
“I can’t believe you’d do this to me!” I scream, tears welling up in my eyes. I turn on my heel and do my best to run in a straight line back up to the cabin.
“Ahhh, shit. Elsie! Wait!” Ben calls after me.
“No, just finish. We can get her later,” Kate says.
That bitch.
That pig.
Fuck them.
I make my way to the door and stumble inside. I look around the cabin frantically. I can’t stay here. I can’t be under the same roof as my cheating fiancé and the girl I’ve thought of as a sister for eight years. I can’t sleep here, like a fool, supposedly celebrating an engagement that’s a fucking lie.
I race across the floor, banging my hip into the dining room table. “Fuck!” I yell angrily. I grab my black fur coat and fuzzy winter hat and quickly button it up to my neck. “Fuck this! Fuck them!” The tears rain down my face in a downpour. I knew I wasn’t good enough for him.
For any of them.
My vision is blurry as I run back out into the snow, quickly making my way to the tree line on the side of the property. I don’t have a plan. Not that a plan would help. I planned my life in excruciating detail to get to this pinnacle. To this moment. And all it’s led to is my humiliation.
“Elsie! Wait!” Ben calls out behind me, but I don’t stop. I barrel forward down a trail and let myself get swallowed by the darkness.
I run until my lungs burn and my legs feel like Jell-O. I run until I can’t hear anything or see any signs of light besides the stars. Even then, I run farther. Time blurs and my limbs cry out for mercy. Begging me t
o stop. Still, I run farther. Faster. Trying to escape my shame. Trying to put distance between me and the betrayal I witnessed.
I look around. Somehow, I’ve managed to get off the trail I thought I was following. When did that happen? A shiver washes over me, taking over control of my muscles. I push through the underbrush, slogging forward in the crunchy snow. I don’t care. I don’t care what happens to me. I don’t even want to live if my entire life, if everything I’ve spent years building, is all a lie.
The image of Ben fucking Kate with his pencil dick attacks my mind and fresh tears fill my eyes. Fuck them.
“Arrgghh!” My boot catches on something under the snow and I fall face down into the cold, soft blanket of white. I roll over and try to sit back up, but don’t have the strength. My thoughts cloud over and the sky spins above me, blurring into a cascade of shooting stars from the tears in my eyes. I can feel myself letting go. My body sinks into the snow and my eyelids close.
I’m so tired. I need a nap. Maybe this is already a dream and I need to wake up. The thought is fleeting. As is my will to move. I close my eyes and feel myself fall off the edge as the world goes black.
7
Sawyer
The wind blasts me with punishing, arctic air. It’s so cold I stop in my tracks as the exposed skin on my cheeks burns. I wipe my gloved hand through my beard and little icicles, miniature versions of the ones back home clinging to my cabin roof, sheer off.
There’s a storm coming. No doubt about it. After three winters in the woods, it’s not hard to tell what weather is rolling in. I’ve learned how to pay attention to the changing clouds. I can tell when a sunny summer day is going to transform into a hot storm. I know when the frosty air is bringing snow squalls. Too bad I never learned to get my ass into town quicker when I need supplies.
I should’ve made this trip at least a week ago. Every morning I woke up telling myself I’d head out, and every night I laid my head on my pillow with the dread of facing the world still eating at my gut. It took being down to the bare minimum, like it always does, before I slung this toboggan rope over my shoulders, strapped these snowshoes to my feet, and started the three-day journey out of the wilderness.
Wilderness.
I snort at the word and pull my glove off with my teeth. Why do they call it that, huh? Unzipping my parka, I reach inside until my fingers graze the cool metal hiding in my chest pocket. I suppose it’s because that’s where the wildlife lives. I’m no scholar, but that’s my best guess. The silver metal flask is warm against my numb hand and I quickly unscrew the lid and take a long swig of my moonshine.
“Pffft.” I wipe the burning liquor from my lips and squirrel away my flask. “There isn’t an animal alive that’s wilder than the people out there.” I squint my eyes and can see the lights of the city off in the distance disrupting the stunning stars. “Fucking savages.”
Tugging my glove back on, I adjust my hat and scarf, preparing for the last leg of my hike into town. Supplies don’t just show up when you live out in the woods. It’s not like I can go sign onto my nonexistent computer and get them delivered by Amazon. Not that I’d ever want to.
Instead, I make four trips a year into Anchorage to pick up what I can’t grow or hunt myself. It’s not ideal. If I had it my way, I’d never go back. However, not going back because you’re happy and living off the land is not the same as not going back because you’re dead from being too stupid to get supplies.
I might be stubborn, but I’m not stupid.
Reluctantly, I knock the layer of ice from the top of my beavertail snowshoes and grab my rope.
This would be a lot easier with a Skidoo. It’s a hell of a haul to trudge through the forest for fourteen hours lugging a sled behind me. But Skidoos need gas, maintenance, time, money. Not like this. All I need is two feet and a heartbeat to get where I’m going. That suits me just fine.
Enough standing around. Time’s wasting.
Snap! Thump!
What the hell? I drop my sled rope and turn around, peering through the darkness. That wasn’t a raccoon or skunk. It was too loud. Too heavy. My eyes are adjusted perfectly to the darkness, but I don’t see anything. Not that I would if a bobcat was stalking me. I crouch down and tilt my head, listening intently.
Crunch, crunch, thump, snap!
That’s no bobcat. Shit. I hop up and dart over to my toboggan and grab my rifle. In the distance, I can see a black bear trampling erratically on its hind legs. It’s crashing all over the place, flinging itself forward. Damn it! Why is it walking like that? Does it have rabies? Just what I need.
I raise my gun and stare down the barrel, locking the bear into my sight.
“Arrrghh!”
It’s gone, but I didn’t drop it. I look around suspiciously. Is there another hunter out here? I didn’t hear a shot.
With my gun still ready to shoot, I trek through the woods to where I watched the bear disappear. I listen for its cries, for its heavy breathing, for anything. Not a sound.
Another polar vortex rips through the evergreens and painfully attacks the little skin I have exposed. I turn my back into the gust, protecting my face from the threat of frostbite. Once it dies down, I lift my gun and slowly trudge over to the bear. It’s easy to see the outline now in the snow. I’m not sure what happened to it, but it’s not moving. It looks awfully small to be out on its own. From how lean it is, I’d expect it to have died of malnourishment. Just like I will if I don’t suck it up and get my ass into town for supplies.
I start to turn back, satisfied that I’m not going to be shredded alive by a bear, when something catches my eye.
Between the black furry body and paw, I see a creamy patch exposed. What is that? It takes longer than it should to realize that I’m not staring at a slumped over, malnourished bear, but a human. A woman. And her bare leg is carelessly lying exposed on the snow.
Fuck.
I don’t want anything to do with whatever this situation is. Yet, I can’t stop myself from closing the distance between us. The closer I get, the less sense it makes. Under her big, black hat I can see her features starting to come into focus.
She’s young.
I crunch through the crisp, icy layer as I lumber closer.
She’s pretty.
I look around, straining my ears to listen for another person. Surely she’s not out here alone. There’s no noise. None except for my own heartbeat rushing blood into my ears.
Finally, I’m standing over her. It’s easy to see she’s passed out. From the smell of her, I’d say she’s drunk. Probably a lightweight judging by how tiny she is.
Damn it! This isn’t my problem. This woman and whatever her issues are, aren’t mine to take on. But I don’t budge. I don’t even blink. There’s no way I can leave her here. It’s a death sentence. I might not want anything to do with her, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to freeze to death. Despite what people say, it’s not a great way to go.
I hunch over her and rip my glove off my hand, holding my fingers under her nose. Warm air puffs over my hand. She’s breathing. That makes her my problem. Replacing my glove, I slide my hands under her arms and lift her into a sitting position. Her fur coat flops open, exposing more flesh than I expected to see. What kind of idiot runs off into the woods dressed like a bear and wearing nothing else but a bra and underwear?
As I button her coat back up, I notice the jagged flecks of ice that have formed over her breasts. Wait, was her bra wet? Because now it’s frozen. Is she… is she wearing a bikini? A wet bikini?
Idiot feels like a totally inadequate word for this level of stupid.
I roll my eyes. There’s nothing I can do but try to keep the frost from damaging her milky skin. I easily lift her up and carry her over my shoulders like a dead deer and bring her back to my sled.
I’ve got to get her warmed up. Fast. I can make a shelter here or I can take her back ten minutes where I saw an old hunting cabin with a chimney and get her next to a fire.<
br />
Fire wins.
I gently lay her down on the toboggan and take off my parka, placing it over her. Why on earth is this woman out here? Why is she dressed like this? What is she running from? I stare at her face and try not to notice her beautiful features.
I’ll never find out anything if I don’t get her warm. I pry my eyes from her high cheekbones and full lips and yank the rope to my sled. I guess supplies will need to wait. Sighing, I plod back to my trail. Back to the empty cabin I passed. Back into the woods. There’s no question that if I don’t get this lady warmed up very soon she’s going to die of exposure.
That’s a guilt I could never shake from my conscience. Her death is something I could never outrun. The question is: is it already too late?
8
Sawyer
My feet crack the sheet of crystal sparkling over the soft snow and I sink down until my knees are covered with every step. Giving the sled a huge tug, I pull the unconscious girl to the edge of the porch stairs before I bolt up them to the front door of the cabin.
Of course, it’s locked. I fight my instinct to run at the door like a bull at a matador’s red flag. It won’t help keep either of us warm if I knock this thing off the hinges.
I doubt an old, rickety shack like this has any kind of alarm system, but if it does, tearing the door off would definitely set it off. Not that alerting the authorities wouldn’t be a good thing.
At least in theory.
Clearly, any girl who would run into the snowy woods at night in a bikini and fur coat needs help. That’s a job for the police if I’ve ever heard of one.