The second worst thing, too.
I kill the engine, and the hum of the road disappears, replaced by a heavy silence. There’s no other car in the parking lot, no noise at all, just a deep hush coming from the tree line.
The Wicked Woods stretch out in front of me, dark, still, silent. They feel like they’re waiting for something.
I open the car door before I can change my mind, stumbling out into the quiet dark. I shut it behind me with a dull thud and stand there for a moment, keys still in hand. I shift my weight, suddenly aware of how loud my breathing sounds out here.
Uneasy, I glance toward the woods. They’re too close. The trees huddle together like they’re whispering secrets.Mysecrets. I wonder if they remember what happened here. Wonder if they carry the weight of it like I do.
Wonder if they wake in the night, chest heaving, breath ragged, a dead man’s name on their lips.
My stomach turns, the heaviness in my chest suffocating. I wantto turn and run. I can feel the past pressing in on me, whispering things I tried to bury.
I stagger back, vomiting so hard I see stars. I crouch on the ground, palms on my knees, panting hard enough to blow about the dead leaves at my ankles. I remain there, bent over and shaking as the sweat gathers into a single spot at the tip of my nose and drips heavily onto the red dirt. Out of the corner of my eyes, a man walks foward. Dark-blue jeans, brown belt, white tennis shoes. I can’t see his face. I try to stand up, but my vision swims.
A tidal wave rises from my stomach, rushes up my throat, pours out my mouth. I vomit again and up it comes, secrets and water and guilt. I close my eyes, sweat trickling down my nose and chin.
“God,” Chris groans. “You all right?”
My legs shake. I don’t know how much longer they’ll keep me up.
“Melanie?”
He pushes something into my left hand. I close a clumsy fist around it and open my eyes. Water bottle. He crouches beside me, his right knee nudging mine. He unscrews the lid. “Drink this.”
The bottle shakes as I hold it to my lips. I rinse my mouth out and spit heavily on the dirt while he quietly surveys the empty car park. No one really knows the woods are here. Or cares. Sometimes tourists stray down here, clambering noisily out of their little cars, while their sweaty kids trail behind them, whining the whole time. They only last a few minutes before heading back to the surf beaches.
“Thank you.” I pass the bottle back to him, wipe my mouth with the back of my fist, and stand up shakily.
“Big night?” he asks sarcastically.
I give him a look. He knows where I was last night. Knows I was on the phone to him but doesn’t know about the nightmares that followed.
“Come on.” I swipe at my mouth. “Let’s go.”
I step forward, hoping my legs will carry me all the way down this dark path.
Chris doesn’t move. “No,” he says shortly. “I’m not taking another step until you tell me what the hell’s going on.”
Donny Granger.
The bile in my stomach rises. “You saw the…the profile I sent you last night, yeah?”
“Donny?”
My blood rings in my ears. I manage to nod.
“Yeah, I saw,” he says, inspecting me. “What about him?”
“I know where he is.”
He raises an eyebrow, silent for once. My eyes flick behind him to that narrow pathway in the darkness.
“I’ll take you to him.”
He hesitates, narrowing his eyes like he’s waiting for the punch line.
“Do you want to find him or not?”
