A Plagued Winter

Chapter 3

School is the worst place for a grieving girl.

Everyone tells me to just get over it. 'It's been three years now, I shouldn't be so tense about the subject of Trey'. 'He probably had a reason for ditching this place.'
Funny how none of them witnessed his death, saw the life drain from within him, or held his weightless bloodied corpse in their arms. If they knew what I knew... I doubt I'd ever see the same people at school ever again. I've never told anyone the details of what killed Trey, not even the police. I couldn't find it in me to wish for an electro-therapy session no matter how desperate I was to escape this life I lived now. Plus,  I didn't believe people could stomach what I knew. Humoring the idea that I'd possibly be believed by a few; I think it would scar them far worse than it did me without even having to see it for themselves.

Even though there wasn't an official funeral for Trey, I continue to dress in dreary colors. Trey's mom, Mrs. Samuels, got so sick of seeing me outside her window dressed for the morgue that she hadn't opened her blinds since the year he died. I don't blame her. She wanted to hold onto the hope that her only child was still alive somewhere, even if it wasn't here. But something in me knew that she felt his presence leave this world the moment I did and that's why she hated looking me in the eyes, she was scared of the truth. Just like everybody else on this awaiting deathbed.
Unwilling to accept that Trey and many others did not just disappear in those woods.

Last year, I found out that Trey wasn't the only misfortunate person to stumble onto that notorious missing person's file. In fact, I did some research about my hometown a couple of months after Trey's death; when things hurt a little less to swallow. Apparently, Trey wasn't the first person to succumb to the open forest behind my house, and he'd never be the last. People scattered all over the east coast who happened to find themselves in the unlucky hands of the woods have been reported missing within the area. The only two obvious connections I pulled out of that rubble were that none of the missing persons have ever been located to this day and that a large margin of disappearances surround the guilty month of December.

In 2014, a girl named Ellien Moore went missing close to the Williamsburg Nature Park. And a man named John Adams disappeared there as well. Then, in 2013, a couple went missing up by the Appomattox-Buckingham state forest. Then there's Trey, right smack dab in the center of Norfolk Virginia. Our neighborhood forest of Whitehurst Lincoln Military Housing.

"Hey Carlee, how have you been?"

 My friend, Gabbie, pats my shoulder before she sits at the lunch table beside me where I had been peacefully poking at my lunch with a fork absentmindedly.

Gabbie and I have known each other since the beginning of 6th grade. I was adopted into a group of five people after being found lost and alone on my first day at middle school. Eli, Clarissa, Journey, Diaz, and Gabbie. They were all there for me when news got out about Trey's absence but Gabbie was the one who really made sure I was alright. And even though I lied and told her I was getting better, I still appreciated her concern.

"I'm alright. How about you?"

 I cleared my throat and forced myself to participate in eye contact. She had gone through a lot to make sure I didn't dig myself into an unsociable ditch and saved my seat at our reserved table whenever anyone tried to kick me out of the chain of friends I once belonged in.

"Could be better. Diaz is acting like he's got a stick up his ass and I do not care for it in the slightest."

 Gabbie's tone hardened and I watched her gaze travel above my head where my back was facing the cafeteria doors.

"Speak of the devil." she huffed a breath and looked down at my uneaten lunch.

"Jesus, Carlee. I'm sure that whatever animal this meat came from is long gone, this is a bit much."