Trapped

II

"I hate this damn place!" I yelled out in frustration, flopping onto the bed and huffing. It was Sunday, two days after we had moved in. I was already recklessly bored.

School started the next day, and I was almost looking forward to it. Anything to stop this intense boredom. Sure, starting out at a new school when they had been in class for two months was bound to be tough, but it had to be better than this. Anything would be better than this.

I waited and listened for my dad, waiting to see if he would yell at me to be quiet. There was nothing. He was downstairs in his office, working as always. He must have been so far in the zone by then that he couldn't even hear me anymore. He was very good at blocking out the sound of my voice.

When I was seven, I fell down the stairs and broke my arm. I yelled for him and cried, but he heard none of it. I had to actually go into his office and tap him on the arm, so he could take me to the hospital. He was on a business call the whole way there.

I rolled my eyes and groaned in frustration. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and decided to leave the house. I put on my jacket, scarf, and boots and left the house. As the front door creaked open, I was hit with a surge of icy air. Who knew October in Massachusetts was so damn cold? I certainly didn't think it would be this bad. I was not excited for winter at all.

I gritted my teeth and kept going. I was just going to have to get used to it and suck it up for the meantime. I went down to the street and started walking in the direction we had come from. The road was rough, and unpaved. My senile, old grandfather used to say, "Dirt roads always lead to the best places. Home isn't where the heart is, no, dirt is where the heart is. And you remember that kid? Okay? Promise me that you'll remember it." He died when I was nine, but had been fading for all of my life.

That's when I started looking around. And boy, was it beautiful. No wonder why leaf peepers are a thing. The leaves were all different colors, reds, yellows, greens, oranges, and browns. Even then, leaves were falling all around me as soon as the wind blew a little. I smiled and caught one in my hand. It crinkled, as I enclosed it with my hand. It was bright red, a maple, I believe. There were veins running through it, coming off of the stem. I crumbled it into pieces, then let them slip between my fingers and cascade to the dirt below.

The trees seemed to whisper to me. "Come with me," they said, "come into the woods." I shivered. It had to have been my imagination. It couldn't have been real. Nonetheless, I rushed back inside and was in no hurry to go back out again. That was enough nature for me for the time being. I slammed the front door behind me, leaving whatever had happened back there outside.

My alarm clock rang the next morning at the ripe hour of six am. Why, oh why did the world hate high schoolers? I had to drag myself out of bed. I barely had enough time to throw on some clothes, put my hair up, and do a little makeup, before it was time to leave. I shoved a protein bar into my coat pocket and hurried out the door. I speed walked past the trees and leaf piles I was in the day before and advanced on towards the school. I didn't resort to my regular speed, until I was at least halfway to the school.

Then, I deemed it okay to start appreciating the scenery again. This time, I didn't let myself to get too wrapped up in it, because I was scared I would start to hear the tree voices again. I didn't want to be bored and crazy.

The school came into view. The building was brick and basic, green moss spread on some of the sides. High school was high school, and I didn't expect it would be much different than my old one. I wasn't nervous, just dreading it.

The school hallways were bustling with awkward and unmemorable teenagers. I didn't bother to pay attention to them, just kept going on my un-merry way. The inside of the school was boringly simple. White walls, tile floors, blue lockers lining the walls. The classic high school feel, nothing special. I rolled my eyes at a poster on the wall. It showcased a group of attractive teens, boys and girls, who would undoubtedly be the 'it' group. In big, white, block letters, the words "Differences make life fun, tolerate everyone!", were scrawled.

I reached the bland, old office and waltzed on in. I told the secretary my name, and she handed me what I needed.

The day was just as terribly boring and horribly bland as I thought it would be. Eight tedious classes. One dull lunch period. One thousand repetitive students. I kept my mouth shut, and no one noticed me. Even the walk home was unnaturally monotonous.

My father was at his new job, when I got home. "Dad?" I called out, even though I knew there would be no answer. I was correct. Absolute, impenetrable silence met my yell.

I huffed and let my backpack slide off my shoulders. It landed on the floor with a deep and dull thud. I had plenty of homework and makeup work to do, but I had no intention of even opening a book. I decided I'd rather be bored than do my homework. Plus, it was what my dad and teachers would have wanted, and I didn't want to do anything that they wanted me to.

The weather was chilly, but not frigid, and it wasn't very windy, so I decided to venture outside once more. This time, I was going to tackle the backyard. It seemed promising, so I put on my jacket and boots and left through the back door.

The yard started out as just plain grass, before melting into the woods. It was gradual, starting with a few small trees, and before you knew it, you were completely engulfed by trees. I trekked across the grass. It was the largest backyard I had ever seen in my life. It felt like it took me years to reach the edge of the actual woods.

I walked along there for a while, I wasn't in the dense forest yet, but there were trees littered around me. If I turned my head and looked around some trees, I could see the house clearly.

In fact, it was when I was looking at the house, when I tripped, and nearly dislodged a piece of stone stuck into the ground. I figured it was a rock. To my dismay, when I turned around it was more than that. There were words upon that slab of stone.

I rolled over to my stomach. My jaw dropped, and I let out a little gasp. It was most definitely not a rock. It was a grave.