Nightfall
ANNA
Iwoke the next morning, my back stiff and sweaty from sleeping on the ground in a sleeping bag. Unzipping it violently, I discarded it beside Eiryn, where he snored blissfully. Everyone else was still asleep, and the campsite was littered with last night’s festivities. The rustle of the leaves drew my gaze to the forest. A heavy weight settled in my chest as I debated what I was about to do. Glancing at Eiryn, his mouth open and a trail of drool down his cheek, I giggled. I sent him a quick text. Eiryn’s words last night had sparked an urge, and I couldn’t get it out of my head. I had to go back to the cabin.
The walk through the forest might have been peaceful for anyone else. The morning dew still clung to the leaves. The mist smelled of pine and mossy earth. For me, it was a descent into memory.
The wind at this altitude was cooler and sharper than in town. It was sharp in my lungs, piercing my hollow chest. Up here, it was like a different world altogether, one that was now twisted with echoes of laughter drowned out by screams.
The sun was slowly rising across the valley. When the cabin came into view, giggles from tickle fights sounded from the vaults in my mind of a night spent with my mom, listening to stories she told and looking at the stars.
But there was no one on the deck, and no one was laughing.
I swallowed against the tightness in my throat as I stepped forward, my boots crunching softly against the gravel path. The small wooden steps leading to the porch creaked under my weight. I could almost hear her voice on the wind, calling me in for dinner.
Every muscle in my body was screaming for me to stop, but I clenched my fists. Leaves layered the unkempt deck and the rocking chair where my mom used to sit.
A lump formed in my throat, and my lungs didn’t want to work. It was trying to crawl from the depths of my memory where it had been buried long ago. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let it out.
I took a deep breath and focused on what was before me.
The evening shadows were stretching, crawling, meddling with time itself, when a sudden clicking disrupted my mind.
A remnant of yellow crime scene tape, caught beneath a fallen trunk, whipped furiously in the wind. The hard plastic snapped relentlessly as it tried to free itself, like a mouse caught in a trap.
I entered the cabin.
The air was stale. The stillness existed as if it were alive, a slumbering creature that didn’t wish to be disturbed. My heartbeat was an intrusion that I wished would fall silent.
To say my mom had lived here was somewhat of a false statement. She had, in fact, slept, eaten, and breathed here, but lived? No. She’d kept me safe for most of my life, though.
A pang of guilt ran through me.
Until I’d betrayed her and gotten her killed.
My chest started hurting again, as if breathing were an Olympic sport. Fuck, Anna. Get it together.
I looked around, identifying everything: chair, table, sink, coffeemaker.
My chest loosened.
Everything was as it had been that night three years ago, with a few exceptions.
The shattered window was now sealed with thick plastic and duct tape. The glass had been cleared, but blood stains were still smeared across the floor from where I’d cut my hand.
I swallowed painfully. I was standing in a tomb. It had been devoid of life for so long that layers of dust covered every surface. My mom’s mug sat exactly where it always had, right beside the coffeemaker. The dish towel still hung haphazardly on the oven.
I was so angry that night.
Her lifeless hand flashed in my mind.
She’d lied to me.
My knees shook.
I’d always been curious about our family, especially my dad.
My knees gave out, and I hit the floor. I tried to breathe, but it didn’t matter. I hated this. I hated this happening to me. I wanted it to stop.
