HATCHETS & CROWBARS

1

It's mid-February, in northern Colorado. The brisk air bites at my face as leaves crunch underneath my shoes, I had been wandering for hours now, my face bloody and bruised. My knuckles were raw, my right eye was swollen from a black eye, blood dripped from my broken nose. I felt like shit, but I had to keep walking. The police would be on my trail soon enough, and I needed to find him, he was my only hope at this point. I had to get to him. He had to be out here somewhere; it was the only place I didn't look.

Suddenly, there's a low whistling sound that got louder until something thwacks into the dying bark of a tree, not too far from where I was standing. I turn quickly in surprise, my hands up. Was it some crazy huntsman? Maybe I was trespassing on someone's land? Standing about a few meters away, a man around 5'8 held an old hatchet in his hand, the other one was embedded into the tree near me. His pale face was covered by goggles and a mouthguard, a bit of brunette hair visible from under his hood.

"Wh-Whoops, I mm-missed." He twitched, his head jerking to the left several times.

I stood very still, my hands still up, who was this? Why was he trying to kill me? I looked down at the ground he was standing on. He had black combat boots, they were worn, some leather was peeling from the shoe and one sole seemed to be just barely holding on from so much wear and tear.

Black combats, and the aglets were painted red. I knew those shoes. I looked up at him, he was twitching, no... It was Toby.

I held my breath. It's him. It has to be Toby. Finally, after so many years of searching for him, I found him. Or he found me. He was exactly the person I was looking for right now, he was the only person who would understand, who could help me.

Had been my best friend from middle school, I had protected him from bullies the best I could, and he had helped me with my homework. After he transferred to homeschooling after the death of his sister, we had begun to drift apart, but I always tried to send him letters and things in the mail. The week he had gone missing, my family had been out of town. You can imagine my shock when I found out he had killed his father and lit his house and the forest around it on fire. I had snuck out and searched the woods relentlessly that night, the first of many. After so many all nighters, my eyes had adopted the tired and dark circles I was known for. "Eyebag Erin" They called me.

He must have noticed my pause and staring, but he didn't question it, bringing the other hatchet back for another attempt to kill me. "Ho-hold still!" He yelled.

"Wait!" I held my hands up more, shaking my head. "Wait, wait, Toby, Toby it's me!"

He paused, his neck cracking to the side with a snap, I could feel his eyes staring through the goggles. He made a clicking sound a few times, ticking again. "Who i-i-i-is me? Shit." His head jerked as he said the last word.

"It's Erin!" I exclaimed, I was so happy to see him but so afraid right now. He must have been confused, but it had been almost 10 years since we had last seen each other. I must have looked different especially because of my battered face.

"E-Erin." He seemed to mull over the word in his mouth, his arm jerked. "I don't k-k-kn-know an Erin. Kill him. Kill him." The last two exclamations were more tics.

"You do! You do!" I pleaded. "We sat on the bust together every day, we shared every class except science and art, we had a handshake and everything, man! It's me!" I pulled my brown curly bangs out of my face, trying to get him to have a better look at me. "I got the shit kicked out of me, but it's me, I swear."

Toby didn't move, but his fingers twitched. "You're a l-liar." He then let the hatchet fly.

I ducked quickly to the side. "Bro, bro, it's me! I'm not lying!" My heart was pounding, trying to think of a way to convince him.