The Seamstress

Into the Woods

The woman growls at the girl. "Faster!" she cries.

"I'm going as fast as I can!" the girl sobs, her normally agile fingers trembling as she tries to push the needle through three layers of fabric. "I just don't want to p-poke myself!"

The woman reaches out her hand, slapping the girl across the face. She ignores the pained sobs as she slinks over to the other side of the room.

She is upset. Very, very upset.

*

As I walk home I pass several people throwing me curious glances, some lingering on my face longer than they're supposed to. A few ask me if I'm okay, gesturing to the scratches on my face. "It was just my cat," I say to them every time, giving a light smile before lowering my head to hide the angry tears threatening to spill.

Quentin's last words to me terrify me more than anything he's ever said. Don't let them scare you.

How can I not be scared after hearing that?

And I have no idea what I'm going to face.

Apparently they're the people who made Absinthe how she is. Are they even human? What do they look like? Will they hurt me? Or will they try to make me just like her?

What if I don't go to them?

What if I run away? Run away as far as I can, find a neighbour to help me, then go home. Go home and forget about Zinnia. Forget about Absinthe and Sylvester and Aunt Queenie.

It's selfish, I know it's selfish, but what other choice do I have?

You can be brave and save your sister, my mind says.

"Not brave," I say under my breath. "Courageous."

And I walk faster, with a slight spring in my step as I float in the feeling of confidence and determination--and, for once, not fear.

*

I wait until night.

Aunt Queenie seems to be feeling a bit better, though no less broken. She makes two sandwiches slowly with trembling arms, but smiles when she sees me. "I'm glad you're okay," she says as she opens the door for me.

But we don't say anything else.

Why can't we just talk about it? I think angrily as she pushes my sandwich in front of me. We both know what's going on, we can work through it together... I'm sick of being alone.

That would only make killing her harder.

I don't want to kill her!

I can't think about this right now. I bite into my sandwich, tasting the sharp tang of mustard. Aunt Queenie chews her food thoughtfully, staring off into space, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

"I'll wash the dishes for you," I say once we're done. "You go to bed."

"That's where I've been all day," Aunt Queenie objects softly. Then she yawns. "I think I'll go for a walk... yes, that would be nice...""A walk to where?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

"Maybe in the woods," she says, avoiding eye contact as she hurries to the door, grabbing her coat as she dashes out the house.

What is she doing? Does she know where I'm going, and does she want to follow me? But then she would have left before me...Leaving my plate on the table I take my coat too, following her out into the dark evening. It's warmer tonight, a welcome comfort to my neck which had turned red from the earlier cold. Aunt Queenie is a small figure in the distance, going round the house and to the entrance of the forest.

I slowly trail her, not wanting to make my presence known--except she probably already knows I'm there.

It's like a wall, I think to myself as I watch my feet make prints in the snow. We both know it's there, but we can't break it down. We can't talk about anything.

I stop and watch as she travels along the path, then quickly follow. Quentin told me to immediately go West, and she's going in the direction of Absinthe's cabin.

For a moment I hesitate. Should I follow? Would I have a chance to save Zinnia? No, even with Aunt Queenie there, she wouldn't be able to go against Absinthe.

Going to the waterfall is my only chance.

And so I wait until Aunt Queenie is far enough away, then enter the forest. The familiar smell of soil enters my nose and I sniff deeply as I turn West, abruptly turning away from the path.

Here we go again.

*

This place is very difficult to walk in.

The deeper I go, the worse it feels. There's an uneasiness in the bottom of my stomach, telling me to turn back and go home right now.

"I'll be okay, it's okay," I whisper to myself, trying to sound comforting. It gets darker by the minute, and I kick aside brambles and dead branches from the ground as I struggle to go through, straining my ears for the sound of rushing water.

I feel my throat close, my heart stop beating.

Am I being watched?

I spin around and see nothing except for looming tree shadows.

Before I can turn forward again my foot catches and I stumble, adrenaline flowing through me as I yelp.

I catch myself against a tree trunk. "It's okay," I say. "You're okay. It was just a rock."

Still, the harsh beating of my heart doesn't subside.

It's getting darker. I don't like it.

Am I SURE there isn't anyone watching me?

I clench my teeth hard, and plod ahead. "Don't let them scare you," I say to myself, repeating Quentin's words. "Remember, you're doing this for Zinnia. Courage."

*

At last, I hear water.

My chest tightens as it grows louder and louder, and I instinctively reach into my pocket and grasp the handle of my knife.

If I need to use it, I will.

The sticks, dead leaves and trees thin out as I reach the waterfall. I step between two birches and for a moment forget my fear as I gaze in wonder at the beautiful sight before me.

I've walked into a clearing coated in fresh green grass, not a single dead leaf or branch disrupting it. The land surrounds a small glistening pool, with water so clear I can see the dirt and pebbles underneath--and, surprisingly, it isn't frozen. The sound of rushing water comforts me as I stare up at the magnificent waterfall, stretching tall as the tallest tree in the forest. It goes up to a ledge, where more trees lay, and strange piles of rocks.

Then there's a low hiss, and I spin around, drawing out my butcher knife as I come face to face with the ugliest creature I have ever laid eyes on.

Terror seizes me as I strike it.