Clearer (J.HALE)

08

It was colder that night, but the sky was clearer.

The ground was still squishy under my shoes—sort of springy—and the trees hung heavy with leftover rainwater. They were very tall and slim, branches jutting out unevenly in all directions and cutting up the sky into slender slices. It was impossible to move quietly with the squelch of damp leaves or the crunch of breaking twigs, as well as the slithering swish of my coat.

I didn't bring a torch. A bad decision, in hindsight. The density of the forest swallowed any moonlight that managed to break through the canopy, but I didn't mind. My eyes adjusted after a while.

The tutoring had been surprisingly effective. His infuriating academic ability and cool attitude aside, I was learning. He had a way of explaining things that made sense, even if I couldn't quite put them into practise. It had only been a few days, though, so there was plenty of time for it to go wrong.

I wasn't sure when I was going to tell him. If I was going to tell him at all. He didn't need to know, really. It didn't concern him. Although, if I started vomiting in the middle of a session, that would concern him. Plus, a small and strange part of me wanted to tell him. I wanted people to know, but I didn't want them to have an opinion. He didn't strike me as the opinionated type, though. He was irritatingly diplomatic.

Jake had been sweet since he found out, though. The night at the beach he'd kept me wrapped up warm, wearing Jared's shirt and his jacket, and fed me three burgers. I think the others were a little suspicious of it, taking our close contact in the water and his new attentive attitude to mean something it didn't. I didn't mind, though.

I hummed quietly to myself as I walked, hands buried in my pockets. My breaths steamed in front of me and the ground was crisp, my footsteps louder than usual.

The woods were very quiet, though. Strangely so.

I kept walking. I ignored the niggling feeling in the base of my gut, but the woods didn't seem as interesting anymore. They looked dark and empty, but at the same time full of things that I couldn't, and didn't want to, see.

A twig snapped up ahead and my steps faltered.

A slicing heat flared in my stomach. I wanted to head back, but I also didn't want to turn my back on the noise. Trees and the occasional slither of sky, greyish-green blurs and silence.

There was a rustle in the bushes, to my right this time. It was a lot closer.

Against my instinct, I turned around and charged back the way I came. I crashed through the forest with horrendous loudness, but I didn't care. Best case scenario, I would feel silly when I got back to the house unscathed, having imagined the whole thing. Worst case...

The rustling got louder and my mouth dried. I broke into a run.

Branches whipped at my face, cutting my cheeks. I squeezed my eyes shut and fumbled through the foliage but caught my foot on a risen tree root. I staggered a few more steps before hitting the ground, crashing down into a pile of leaves and dirt.

It wasn't rustling, anymore. It sounded like footsteps.

"I thought you would have lasted longer than that."

A hand clasped around my ankle in a crushing grip and yanked me backwards. Before I could release the scream poised in my throat, I was flipped onto my back and a forearm slammed into my chest and knocked it empty of breath. I wheezed and spluttered out a cough.

A woman crouched over me, wild red hair framing her face in fire. Her skin was smudged with dirt and her clothes were tattered, and yet she was beautiful. Hauntingly so. But I couldn't focus on that. Not with the vivid scarlet colour of her eyes as she stared down at me like a snake about to strike.

She shushed me and used her free hand to stroke my hair, the touch so gentle compared to the arm pressing weight down on my sternum.

She was going to kill me.

I was going to die.

I would never see my child's face. I would never see Aunt Meg again. Jake, Jared, Jasper, Paul, Carlisle. Never again.

"If only you'd stayed at home tonight," the woman purred.

I dug my fingers into the dirt, gripping fistfuls of earth. The pressure of her arm on my chest was unrelenting, all I could do was gasp and wheeze. I stopped moving as she leaned down toward me, a waft of honey and jasmine stinging my nostrils as I sank down into the ground.

There was no point. She was impossibly strong.

Then her weight disappeared. Air rushed down my throat and I spluttered, pushing up onto my elbows and rolling onto my side.

Any trace of the woman had disappeared. It was like I'd imagined her, but the thumping of my heart and the fizzing of my winded chest was not imaginary.

Three shapes whizzed through my peripheral: one black, one greyish-brown, and one a burnt auburn. Galloping footfalls and guttural snarls accompanied the shapes, but they didn't seem to notice me. They thundered into the underbrush without so much as a glance in my direction and disappeared as quickly as they'd arrived. One let out what sounded almost like a bark, and then there was nothing.

~~~

My head hurt.

It was too bright for my vision to focus at first. I was surrounded by blurred shapes and muffled noise and it felt like my heart was beating in the centre of my forehead. I tried to move, but a patch of warmth appeared on my arm and someone started talking. It sounded like I was underwater.

"...should stay still, Im."

I scrunched up my face and then blinked a few times, forcing them into focus. "Paul?"

His lips moved as if he were going to smile, but he didn't quite get there. "Hey."

I was laid out on a couch in a room I didn't recognise, a scratchy woollen blanket covering me. Paul was crouched in front of me, hand still on my arm and face partially illuminated by the muted light of the table lamp.

"Where am I?"

"Jake's house," Paul said softly. "It's late. You should try and go back to sleep."

I frowned, trying to wrap my groggy mind around what he was saying, before I remembered.

I shot upright, hand flying up to my chest and the woman's scarlet eyes flashing up in my mind. Paul flinched backward a little, swallowing.

"The woman," I said. "Did you see her? Did you see-

"Go to sleep, Im."

"But she was there, she—she was going to kill me!"

"You're okay-

"She was right there," I gasped, struggling to breathe. "She was-

"She's gone," he said quietly, taking my hand and squeezing it. "It's okay."

I searched his eyes for mistruth, my heart rate slowly climbing down from its hummingbird pace at the assurance in his expression. I clung to his hand as I slowed my breathing, letting the warmth of the small room lull me out of the panic.

"It's okay," he murmured again, lowering me back down on the couch.

I didn't let go of his hand.