Morgan
I thought for sure the Wolf would be waiting for me when I finally managed to climb back out of his cave. He wasn’t. But at least he left a tattered rope for me to pull myself out with. It felt like forever before I managed to emerge. Slip, after slip. Fall, after fall. I was far from strong enough to clamber out the first time, or the second, or even the fifth time.
I hate him. I hate this monster for doing this to me. I hate my husband for cheating on me. I hate that I saw the photo of Linda and Reid. The more I’ve walked, the more I see the Wolf’s eyes in my mind. How blue they are. How perfect they are. Reid has eyes like that. Reid cheated on me and the proof was in that photo. Reid can also shoot a bow and arrow and he knows his way around a bullwhip. He grew up on a property. Plus, Reid’s been acting strangely. Why am I thinking it is him whose responsible for this game I’m playing? I have to pay for what I’ve done. That’s what the Wolf said.
Maybe Reid found out about my addiction, all the prescription meds I’ve been hiding and popping every moment I get. What started as tablets to help me sleep has turned into a cocktail of anything I can get my hands on. A pinched nerve from working out at the gym supplied me pain meds. The cut I got on my hand after I slipped with the kitchen knife meant a prescription for stronger pain meds, and now I find myself jumping from doctor to doctor, telling any convincing story I can, to get more prescription drugs. Stronger ones. Better ones.
Two weeks ago, I hit the worst of all. A work function in the city had me smoking crystal meth in the bathroom of the conference hall with my colleague, Brett. Crystal fucking meth. The soccer mums’ drug. Who am I? How did I get here? These thoughts whirl in my head as I drag my feet and walk in circles, because that’s what it seems I’m doing, walking in circles, it also feels like I’m serving my punishment. I’m being punished for my dishonesty. I’ll never take another pill again. I swear, just give me the freedom to prove it.
It’s hot, even though the blazing heat of the sun has become less harsh as the afternoon draws out. Birds are chirping high in the trees above me, and here I stand, dying of thirst, burnt and telling myself to keep moving. I do, walking aimlessly in the hope of finding any way out of here. Sometimes I find a spark of energy and I manage to run until I think I hear a noise, or the hairs on the back of my neck spring to attention, then I find any refuge I can and hide. I crouch low and stay as still as possible, whilst I try to breathe through the crippling fear I endure. I scream for help every time I find enough courage to yell loud enough to be heard, and at the same time I prepare for the Wolf to hear my cries and come silence me. He hasn’t come. Help hasn’t come. Nobody comes. Everything I see looks the same — rocks, trees, bushes, paths, vines, overgrowth. I’m starving and my stomach rumbles loud enough to spook me. At first, I don’t even recognise the sound is coming from me.
I’m beyond thirsty, but the canister is getting low. I’ve already helped myself to most of the water, and it didn’t quench my thirst; it actually made me thirstier. I’m in so much pain at this point I think about shouting for the Wolf to come and kill me, but then I see my children’s faces, and my Mum and Dad … I want to live. I want to live for them. So, I run until I can’t, and then I walk until I’m frightened and hiding. It’s a vicious cycle.
I start replaying all my thoughts. I curse the Wolf. I think about his eyes. I think it’s Reid. But I always revert to his voice — his voice is different, yet I’ve heard it before — How can that be if it’s my husband? I go through my prescription drug addiction and how this might be tied to the reason for my abduction. I think of Brett, my co-worker, but his eyes are much lighter blue, and for the life of me, right now, I can’t remember what his voice sounds like. I see the picture of Reid and Linda and feel anger mixed with sadness. He cheated on me and Linda cheated on me, too. She’s my best friend and best friends don’t do that. Is the Wolf my husband? Or is my husband only responsible for the Wolf taking me? Is my lie what I did wrong? Is this what he means by I’m the same as him? He lied, I lied, we all fucking lied. Or is it the fact Reid’s been acting like an arsehole and I’ve been so busy with work, the kids, and my drug habit I haven’t noticed he’s been out killing woman who have wronged him in some way. Shit. Is he a serial killer?
I’m deep in thought wandering through more overgrowth trying to piece this puzzle together, to work out the answer to this sick game. I’m thinking about the times The Wolf has stood before me, on those rocks when the rain beat down hard upon me and I was freed from the car, today with the bow and arrow, dressed in black. Is he taller or shorter than Reid? Is his build smaller, larger or the same as my husband’s?
A sudden ripping of my flesh has me screaming so loud, I taste blood at the back of my throat. My face hits the dirt, and it fills my mouth. My legs sting as if they’ve been sliced open and I spit dirt whilst I pant. “Let me go! Fucking let me go.”