In the Woods

My eyes open to pitch blackness.

There is no sound coming from anywhere. I try to spot light…any light around the disgusting shed, but there’s none. The smell of blood, vomiting, and urine fills my nostril, and I have to will myself to keep my vile insides on the inside of my stomach.

How long have I been here?

Days? Weeks? Please tell me it hasn’t been months?!

The awful smell is mostly coming from me. The torn blouse is nothing but shreds now, and my pants were discarded days ago. Or was it weeks ago?

How did I get here? What did I do to deserve this? I thought I was a good person. I thought I was doing the right things in life, such as going to school and getting a decent job to make a good living. I want to make my parents proud and be someone others can depend on.

But now look at me. I’m so deep in hell and don’t know how to escape.

There’s only one word bouncing around in my head: WHY?

Why did I think I knew better? The map specifically said to continue on straight, but I just knew the narrow road on the right would be a short cut to the other side of the road. I thought it would cut driving time for me.

I definitely took a short cut to the gateway to the other side.

I was supposed to be home by now. I was driving home from school to surprise my family for the holidays. I’ve been working my butt off for a year to take longer vacation days.

My peers didn’t think I could pull it off, but I managed to get everything done before Thanksgiving break to take vacation from that until New Years.

I thought being a workaholic would help me.

This does not feel beneficial.

Suddenly, a door opens, and I can tell it’s still dark outside. “Wakey wakey sleeping beauty,” he calls out. “It’s time to spend time with daddy.”

Ugh!

“Have you ever heard the original tale of Sleeping Beauty? People can be really disgusted, huh?”

“Do you mean people like you,” I spat.

I feel him take a handful of my hair and ram me into a pole. It didn’t knock me out, but the world was spinning and fuzzy. I heard him talking but I didn’t understand anything he was saying.

“…night out…. walk.”

A noise was the response I could give him. I’ve fallen on the ground, but again he takes a chunk of my hair and drags me. I hear his footsteps and then the sound of something opening.

‘I’m finally outside.’

The only sounds are our breathing.

His? Slow and steady.

Calm.

Mine are fast since one of them can be my last.

“Now, now sweetheart. Do not struggle or I’ll want o play,” he darkly chuckles.

He pulls me away from the raggedy shed and I see the cabin.

Why didn’t I keep going? Why didn’t I take the narrow road and just keep straight?

The road comes into view and a cry escapes my mouth. He smacks me hard across the face as we round the back of his cabin.

My eyes land on a rake and I start struggling. We almost lose our balance, which exactly what I needed to grab the rake.

His arm rears back and my foot hits his front. I grabbed it quickly and hit him on the head.

I hit him again…again…again.

I ran towards the road with the rake and tried to get help.

Who would live here? A psycho. Only a psycho would live deep in the woods.

The road had rocks and dips everywhere so running on nothing, but dough and water was inviting trouble. I refuse to stop though.

Get to the road.

Find help.

The darkness in the trees terrifies me.

I see eyes.

His dark soulless eyes are watching my movements.

I’m his prey and he’s waiting for the right moment to strike.

The chilling thought makes me pick up the pace. My legs are weak, but they still move. A sound makes me jump and cry out. “Help! Is anyone there?”

Nothing.

Cramp! I can’t attract any attention.

Get to the road.

I tell myself to ignore the sharp twigs attacking my feet. The sharp pain of them sticking to me, I can’t stop. I need to get to an open road, or it’ll be over.

I’m over.

The road to get home and spend one more Thanksgiving with them and see everyone faces on Christmas morning. The smell of mama’s collard greens waving in the air and the sound of my parents playfully arguing about daddy stealing out of the pot. The sound of cars pulling into the driveway of family visiting, re-living old stories of ‘Do you remember’ in the kitchen, or loving silence of a memory about a passing loved one.

A loud bang breaks my focus on my pull to survival. “I’m going to kill you!”

I urge my legs to move faster down the road when another shot is fired behind me. I thank God he’s hitting the trees and not me. I pray for him to help me get there.

Suddenly, I heard it. A car.

Tears fell down my face when I heard a car ahead of me. I am close. I am close.

The menace is shouting behind me and that could work to my advantage because someone will hear him. A shot fired, but the bullet was closer and that means he is getting closer.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to have my fun before or after yet,” he calls out. “I’ll make my decision once I have my hands around your pretty little throat.”

I have to hurry! My legs suddenly pick up and I’m moving faster, limping, but faster.

The road seems dark until I turn ahead and see flashing lights coming in my direction at a full speed. “He-

Then everything went black.