the girl called mystery

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Quiet.

The only sound I hear is the crunch of leaves under my feet. I stop to take a moment of rest. My aching legs finally get a break from the endless walking. It's been a little over an hour and a half since I quote-on-quote 'mysteriously' left the school. This should be something expected of me though. I've been known to just get up and walk away. That's why they call me Mystery. I've been referred to as Mystery for so long that I barely remember my own name.

I appreciate solitude. I would rather be in the comfort of my own presence than with someone else. When you're alone, you have complete control over your situation. There's no one to bug or bother you. You're in your own space. I enjoy peace in the woods. It sounds cliché, but I don't care. I come so often that I set up my own little fortress of solitude, if you will. It's the only place where I can sit and think to myself. Being in a home with so many people doesn't give you much time for peace and quiet. So I come here to my home away from home.

I get up off of the tree stump I was sitting on. I continue on my way to my humble abode. While I walk I notice the faint sound of what sounds like another person.

I stop in my tracks, "Hm. That's odd."

As I stop I hear the footsteps behind me continue, but that's not what I'm focused on right now.

"My shack, where the fuck did it go?"

I come here all the time. I know I'm not lost or confused. My shack stood between two trees, but the spot now remains bare. I let out a deep sigh and turn around so that I could walk back in the direction of my school. When I turn, I'm face to face with my greatest enemy.