My 13th Birthday

CW: Physical violence, substance abuse

It was almost my 13th birthday. Any person would be ecstatic to finally be able to be called a teenager. I, on the other hand, was dreading it. The morning of my 13th birthday, me and a group of other unfortunate victims, would get sent away for a grueling 72 hours into the woods behind our house with just a slice of bread, an apple, a canteen of water, and a hunting knife. Apparently, it’s supposed to test your survival skills and endurance. This isn’t just a random survival test either. It determines how you’re viewed in the family. Your parents would be responsible for training and preparing you for the 3 days that you would be tested. No one knew exactly what the tests were, since they changed every year. What most of my relatives agreed though, that if you’re prepared enough, you should come back alive. Only a handful of my relatives had gone missing, including my sister Isa. Whether dead or alive was the question everyone asked.

I’m sitting in my great grandmother’s living room, a cup of green tea in my lap. I’ve been working up the courage to say this for weeks and I’m starting to second guess myself. My grandmother sits in this big blue and white striped chair across from me. Her green eyes, which I was lucky to inherit from her, pierce into me. She reached a long, wrinkly finger up to push her thin wire frame glasses back to the bridge of her nose as she rambles about how honored and excited I should be to finally be old enough to participate in the Survival Tests. I bite back a sigh. That’s all my family has talked about for weeks and I’m starting to get sick of it. My mother, who was sitting next to me fiddling with her baby blue sundress suddenly taps me.

“Are you listening Sage?”

I perk up, feeling my face get hot. “Y-Yes Mother. Sorry.” I pause, taking a deep breath.

“Uh. Mimi, I don’t want to do this survival test. I-I know it’s tradition but I like my life and-”

Mimi puts her hand up, silencing me. “Stop with this nonsense Aurelia. Of course you want to participate.”

My hands start to sweat and I start to get frustrated. “No Mimi. I don’t want to.”

My mother grabs my arm, her grip tightening around my bicep. "Don't you raise your voice at your grandmother."

"I-I-I didn't! I swear-"

Grandma Nina, who was sitting quietly in the corner knitting, stands her frail legs shaking.

"Do you mean that?" She says slowly. "Do you really not want to do this?"

I nod and my mother drops my arm. "Yes I do Grandma Nina."

She nods once, then clears her throat softly. "It's settled then. She won't do it."

Mimi's face starts to turn red. "But-But it's tradition! She has, she must!"

My mother nods in agreement, her expression disappointed. Grandma Nina sits back in her small armchair, the sun's rays making her chocolate skin seem to glow.

The four of us just sat in silence after that, sipping on hot mint tea. My mother clears her throat, putting her cup down.

"Go tidy up your room Sage."

I nod, walking upstairs quietly.

I'm standing by the window, just enjoying the slight breeze blowing into my room when I look down at the street in front of my house. A little girl with pale skin and white hair is staring up at me. She smiles, holding up her hand and wiggling her fingers in a little wave. I wave back awkwardly, not knowing what else to do. Her smile suddenly turns from sweet to sinister. She balls her hand into a fist, holding her pointer finger up and drags it across her throat. I stumble back from the window, feeling weirded out. I finish cleaning my room, steering clear from the window.

Dinner is quiet that night, nobody wanting to bring up the obvious elephant in the room. I pick at my steak, not feeling hungry. My mother looks up from her plate and stares at me.

"Are you feeling alright dear?"

I nod. "Just not that hungry."

She purses her lips but doesn't say anything else.

We finish dinner, the only sound in the room is the clinking of silverware against ceramic.

I sit on my cream rug, doodling in my notebook when the power goes out. I reach out for the flashlight I usually keep by my bed but it's not there. I stand, the moonlight streaming through my window providing a little bit of light. I creep into the hallway, the house silent as I run my fingers against the wall. I make it to Mimi's room and quietly open the door. It's empty as I step inside, the curtains are drawn so it's pitch black. I take a few steps when I hear soft footsteps behind me. I stop walking and stand completely still, listening. The footsteps stop. I stand there for a few minutes just listening. I take a step forward and some sort of thick liquid embraces the bottom of my foot. I inhale sharply, hoping, praying it's not what I think it is. I take a step back, feeling my way to Mimi's nightstand. There's a flashlight in the top drawer. I turn it on and bite back a scream. A pale girl, about maybe 10 is standing in the beam of the flashlight. Her hands are covered in blood. Her mouth is a bright red, a striking contrast to her dark red lips. She smiles. "Hello there friend. How are you on this fine evening?

I scream, stumbling back right into a pair of strong arms. I feel a hand cover my mouth, stuffing a cloth inside to stifle my screams. The cloth tastes sweet, sort of like syrup. The arms carry me out of the room, my legs hitting the door frame. I feel lightheaded, too afraid to make any sound. My eyelids start to get heavy so I close them, my thoughts fuzzy and jumbled. I hear quiet talking.

"Be brave little dove. Everything will be alright."

I jolt awake, confused and freezing. The sun is just starting to come up, the light shining through the trees. Wait...trees? I think to myself. I look around. Leaves cover the ground all around me. Next to me is a bag which after searching contains a slice of bread, an apple, a canteen of water, and a hunting knife. I spot a note attached to a nearby tree. I sigh,already knowing what it says. I walk over to it slowly. It reads: Your 72 hours starts now.