I pushed to my feet, my legs trembling underneath me. My eyes darted back to her body, to the smile carved deep, etched in her skin as sure as a brand of my name. The bile rose in my throat again.
This wasn’t random.
But the question carved into her face was one I couldn’t answer: ‘Why do you get to live when I don’t…because of you?’
I stumbled backward, my boots slipping in the dirt. My pulse hammered in my ears as I tried to hear another sound, tried to locate another snap of a twig.
The woods stayed quiet. And my mind stayed loud.
Her screams echoed off the walls of my skull, but this time she didn’t get away. She was killed by my hand, forced to smile even in death, at the brutality I gave her.
Her face warped and turned to Xanthy’s, and I screamed.
My mind filled with the corpse, but this time it was Xanthy’s voice calling my name. She was still so soft and hopeful, immune to the horror of what had become of her.
“Shiloh. I love you, Baby. Don’t you love me? Marry me. Breed me. Feed me. Let me live. Let me consume you.”
The warped voice of my girlfriend continued, and all I could do was shield my ears from the shrills.
“You killed me, Shiloh. Is that what I get for protecting you all this time? You’ll kill me? You should have killed him. Save me, Shiloh. Save yourself.”
“Stop. Please.”
The eerie shrieks and shrills of the animated corpse continued to torture me, Alexandra Harding’s voice so strong in its taunting. I backed away from the scene, pulling myself away from the grappling hands that reached for me like spindly roots determined to take me forever.
“I’m sorry,” I cried, just out of reach of the gnarled hands that clawed at my flesh. “I’m so sorry. I should have never touched you. I should have never tried to use you to be normal.”
Xanthy’s twisted, demonic tone faded as I clawed my way out of the clearing, my breath ragged, making my way back to the buck. The rifle was still on the ground where I had dropped it. I got to my feet, tripping and running, trying to grip it in my hand. I held on so tight my knuckles burned, and I pointed the barrel at the clearing, waiting for the monster to try to take me again.
I’m losing my fucking mind.
I wiped the snot and tears off my nose, lowering the weapon just slightly. The cold wind blew, and the trees swallowed heragain, closing over her body like the woods wanted to keep their secret.
But I knew the truth now.
The hunt was never mine.
I wasn’t the predator in these woods.
I was always the fucking prey.
And it was only a matter of time before they claimed my body too.
The house felt too quiet without him.
I tried distracting myself for hours. I folded laundry, wiped down the counters, and even tidied my room. I didn’t do these things. Our maids did. But for some reason, something as simple as pouring coffee, which I never drank, made the weight feel a little bit better.
It was like every small sound made the silence heavier. The tick of the clock in the kitchen echoed mockingly. The drip of the faucet began to gnaw at my ears.
I ended up sitting by the window, staring out at the tree line as though he might just appear there, waving to me with some murdered animal on his arm. But I’d settle for even hisshoulders hunched, my father’s rifle slung on his arm, and his stormy eyes shadowed the way they always were.
But he didn’t.
He didn’t appear in either form.
Hours had passed since he left, and still nothing. He ignored my texts. No shock there, it was like he’d taken a card out of my brother’s deck. I desperately wanted to know what happened on their trip. I begged Shiloh for a week to tell me even one thing. My texts to Carrington were desperate, but like I knew he would, I was shut out.
“Hunting,” Shiloh had said, his voice as flat as his smile, like it was the only explanation I deserved.
