In the Woods When First We Met

179. Not All Secrets Hurt

NOTE:

While this chapter ends happily, I need to warn you-- In this chapter, I try to describe what it is like to have a flashback. I try to describe how while it is happening, you are literally not where you currently are. I don't want to speak for other people so don't assume other people's are the same, I can only speak for myself. I hope no one finds it upsetting. If you might, please skip it. (Also, I hardly ever have these anymore. If you are experiencing them yourself, you might want to skip this chapter, take care of yourself- and I hope it helps to know they do eventually start to go away and get better.)

-

Billy stumbled out of the house, one hand over his bloody nose and the other hand still protectively over himself, as if it could somehow take away the pain in his groin.

It was the most intense pain he'd ever felt, and as he made his way down the Cuthbert's front steps he vomited, nearly on himself. It had come without warning, no time to prepare, and it made his eyes water and his throat burn.

He was angry, but he had no other choice but to back off. He could barely walk. But he'd have to walk, all the way back to his house.

What am I going to do? he thought helplessly. My clothes...I've got to hide them. How can I go home, they'll see me...

He remembered Gilbert confronting him that cold day, weeks ago: Torn clothes and blood, Billy. That's what you left her with.

No one had known that day what he'd done to her- she'd managed to get home and hide everything. He had no way to: it was his shirt that was ripped, and even if he knew how to sew, he didn't have the buttons- they were on the Cuthbert's floor. His own blood smeared down the front of his crisp white shirt could not be washed away, he thought, at least not quickly.

How did she do it? How did she go so long without anyone knowing? They'll know about me as soon as they see me...

-

Gilbert turned to look at Anne. She had burst into tears after she attacked Billy, but she wasn't crying now. Her face was white as a sheet and she was shaking.

"Anne," he said, coming toward her.

She backed up from him. Confused, he stopped walking toward her.

"Are you...all right?"

She still didn't say anything.

He approached her and again she shrank back from him.

Anne saw the confusion in his eyes, but Anne was in another moment, and Gilbert was not there.

He saw her holding a wad of fabric underneath her skirt. He'd seen Billy grab at her petticoat, but he hadn't ripped it, not this time. Why was she holding it like that?

"Your clothes, they're not torn-"

Anne looked down and what she saw was a long jagged piece of white cloth hanging loose, blowing slightly in the fall breeze, a few scattered leaves drifting over her boots as they stood on the hard packet dirt underneath her.

"Anne," someone was saying to her, but it didn't make sense for that voice to be there, because he wasn't there, it was only the two of them- Billy and Anne. She was alone in the woods, and he was walking toward her.

Her wrist. She suddenly felt pain shoot through it, and she dropped the wadded up part of her skirt she was holding and reached for her arm, cradling her wrist against her chest.