Wanna Play A Game?

I follow them with a thick foggy feeling in my head.

I didn't want to be here, I try to tell them.

The woods is no place for us. No place for her.

She is following me. sluggishly; I have to pull her slightly to keep her close. I wasn't going to let her go. Never. Mum would kill me.

I think of how dark it is, I pull out my phone: "Eleven thirty..." I bite my lip, debating whether I should leave, turn around, pick her up, and take her back. No one would know.

She'd be easy to spot in the dark, with the bright pink everything she was wearing: sparkly wellies, a fluffy dressing gown covered in weird purple hippos, and her pink and red pyjama set peaking out from underneath.

"Careful, Annie! Pick your blankie up before you step on it." Mum crocheted it when she was at uni, saving it for her baby girl to have. That thing was probably more precious than my life, I swear. It was the length of her she held it tight in her arm, slotting her fingers in the holes for a tighter grip.

Was she scared?

It happened again, a thick foggy feeling littered my mind. I tell myself, 'it's the mist, it has to be. It's nighttime.' I can feel it on the tip of my nose; cold and wet. I rub the centre of my forehead. "Uhh what are we doing here! Annie, let's go."

I was slow to look at her, hoping she'd nod and agree, but before she could stop sucking her thumb...

"Oy, Willy... get a move on." Callum's voice calls in the distance.

...

"Fine." We keep walking, but quickly. I call after him, as I keep pulling her at my pace, "Where are we going?"

"Oh come on!" He replies. He's useless.

The world gets louder suddenly. The overwhelming noise of crunching leaves, shuffling feet and laughing kids.

I'm not sure why I want us to stop making noise. Like someone could hear us in the middle of the woods.

Maybe Mum would be psychic or something, maybe she knows I left and that Annie isn't safe. They were too far away to know, but the thoughts linger.

They put me in charge of her, alone. She’s my responsibility.

I feel her grip on my hand weaken. I turn grab her wrist and pull her close.

I feel my teeth grit as my jaw tries to tremble, "listen! Do not let go! Do you hear me?" Her eyes widen at me, they begin to water slightly like I had just threatened her with a spider. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't shout." I hang my head slightly.

She shouldn't be here.

We continue through the trees, following Callum. His baggy jeans hang on to his hips for dear life, exposing the top half of his branded white boxers.

-Callum is easy to describe. Messy, shaggy hair, slightly oily from playing football. One silver stud earring on his left side. I planned it in my head that if I needed to talk to the police, I could tell them it was him, his idea.

No. I couldn't. She is my responsibility. If something happens, it's my fault.

I picture her where she should be. In bed. Tucked in tight, wrapped peacefully in her big girl bed. That's what mum calls it anyway, even though dad's right, it's just a normal bed.

I imagine her night-light turned on in the corner by the bedside that shines a small projection of the fish from Finding Nemo.

Her pile of stuffed animals is diagonally across; some used to be mine, but I'm too old for teddies now.

The window would be cracked open just enough to let the air in. I would close it once she was asleep. The thin white curtains gently dance, wafting in the breeze.

This is working. It was distracting me.

I think of her neatly organised wardrobe, colour coordinated from left to right. If I were ever to mess it up, mum would be fuming. Dad would get upset because Mum would have told him to be.

Well, he used to.

They try and hide it, be happy for us. Smiling, laughing, it's all lies. I can hear them from my room. I sit against my door, the muffled tone dilutes their words, but I know what they're saying. I'm waiting for the day they announce their divorce. At least it would be over then.

Callum knows, he's the only one who does, really. He says all the cool kids have divorced parents. He never met his dad, but he tells everyone he divorced and moved away.

My mind snaps back to reality.

Callum was running around, hiding behind trees, and making scary noises. I felt Annie's body jump a few times, her pulse beating in her wrist in my palm.

He told me to bring her.

We just kept walking. I heard Anna whimper and squeal a few times in response to Callum's stupidity.

I shouldn't have brought her. He came by the house. Pushing

and pushing for me to come.

I hear my word replaying in my mind. “I can’t leave Anna, and my parents aren't home,” I said, trying to usher him away. I didn't want to go, but I couldn't tell him. Social suicide and all that. He shoved his way past my shoulder.

“So, we’ll bring her.” He came down the stairs with half-sleepy Anna on his shoulder.

Picking up one of the wellies, “Are these yours, Will? Thought they might be your style.”

Sarcastic prick.

He helped Anna manoeuvre her arms into the designated holes of her dressing gown.

“Come on, let's go”, he was holding her hand, guiding her out of the door. I moved over

slightly to block it more. “She’s tired.” I could have maybe said it louder, told him to go back to the council

estate or something. Really insulted him. I wish I did now. After grabbing my keys, I rushed

after them. What am I doing?

Her scream pierces my heart. Annie's arm suddenly pulling away from my grip like she grew wings and learnt to fly. My eyes widen and blur with panic. I try to pull back, holding on. I look around to see a masked figure hauling her away from me, her screams still clouding my mind like it was coming from every direction.

Disfigured and slightly mutilated, its eyes seemed to be pinned open with staples -solid white, almost like they rolled back in their sockets. There are unevenly placed strands of hair coming out of the top of its head. Toothless and dripping black blood from its lips. Its skin was shrivelled, almost dehydrated. The figure looms over me by a few inches. My eyes don't notice the flaps of latex, hidden by the folds of the black hoodie. It blends so seamlessly into the darkness of the dense woods.

I stumble back, tripping over a sharp tree stump, feeling the bark pierce my side.

My grip slips with the pain, and I watch as Annie screams, her body going limp, knocking the mask slightly out of place.

Her scream is haunting.

Callum rips off the mask, hugging her, laughing

"Oh, Annie, it's just me."

"Callum you git!" I cry, my voice shaking.

"Wimps!"

There is something demonic about the way he laughs and smiles at her cries. Hannah pushes through the crowd of laughing boys picking her up.

She doesn't belong here either.

I find the strength to lift myself up. The crowd of boys crowd around her, jumping around, screaming like savage animals in a feeding frenzy.

She is screaming and crying; I'm frozen. I want to help her. I should.

Callum chuckles, looking at me with his fucking pity. His pitch drops slightly, and his laugh becomes longer and thinner. Someone else is wearing it, now crawling towards me, laughing.

Seconds pass, and I look down. It is a joke now.

“Funny”, I said bluntly. The masked friend stops suddenly. I watch as he steps away, staring at me, his gaze fixed on the left side of my face.“What?” I ask.

Callum clocks on “posho move!”. His voice sounds alarmed.

Is he joking?

He wouldn’t use that nickname if he were serious.

He calls again louder, “Will, move!”

Hannah came out from behind him, wrapping her arm around Anna. Her voice cracking in fear. Hannah looks at me tearfully. "Will! run!”

I feel someone's breath on the back of my neck. My hair shivers in unison. A long, gangly pair of fingers tiptoe their way up my arm. My eyes watch as they creep their way up. Its long fingernails digging into me as if they were the point of a knife. It was singing.

WHY CAN'T I MOVE!

It isn't human. It is singing softly, its voice like a broken voice box in an old toy.

It stops...

“Kids like you shouldn’t be out here alone.” The voice is almost clown-like, it is high-pitched and like he was laughing with his breath. I feel cold, stiff. I turned around to face It, and I slowly step back. My skin shivers. It is holding a large metal shovel, square-headed, looks to weigh a lot. Enough to make my spine lock. It runs its nails over the metal, and the sounds echo like a shiren.

I move away, its head tilts to one side as it watches me run to Hannah, grabbing her and Annie.

It's dirty afro that I imagine once was every colour of the rainbow before it was washed in mud, flops around. His skin was stained red in places, in others, splattered with thick dirt.

It has a crooked nose, one that seemed to point up and out. Like the child catcher. Thick strands of hair cluster around the open hole of the nostril. I pull Annie onto taking Hannah's Hand.

I eye it again, waiting for our cue to run. Its shoes are stained brown from the vast amounts of mud that drench them. Its had colourful trousers that reminded me of Mr Tumble. The only thing that is slightly clean is the white balloon-sleeve shirt. Its off white, and with small spots of blood the the left sleeve.

It is staring.

Not at me.

But at Annie.

Its eyeing her.

Its head tilts: “Wanna play a game?”