Isabella
Shivering, I hug my body to stay warm. It can’t be all that cold out because the flakes are huge and wet. Unfortunately, wool isn’t waterproof, I’m soaked to the bone, and my feet are ice. I’ve watched enough survivor shows enough to know that hyperthermia is setting in. If I don’t do something pretty soon, I won’t be able to think straight.
Dammit. I probably should’ve dressed better but when I decided to hang out in CJ’s cabin, I was going to read by the fire, not get chased in the woods.
Far below, a snow plow scrapes the road sounding like a creepy monster. The yellow beacon on top rotates, occasionally flashing deep into the pines and I get my bearings.
Suddenly, a gunshot echoes off the mountain and men shout.
“What the fuck!”
“Go!”
Multiple car engines roar to life, followed by complete silence.
What the hell just happened?
I hope to God that they’re gone until I realize I’m lost and alone in the woods. The wind picks up and clumps of snow drop onto the forest floor.
Should I try to make my way back to the cabin? I haven’t got a clue which direction to go. What if I wander off a cliff?
In an attempt to find matches that I know can’t magically appear, I check my pockets anyhow. There’s an old napkin and a scrunched-up grocery receipt. If I ever get out of this thing, I swear to God I’ll never leave the house without a small survival kit sewn into every one of my jackets.
Slowly, I slip one foot in front of the other, following the gurgle made by the stream. When it’s close, I stop, squat and dip my hand in the frigid water to figure out which way it’s flowing. My fingers burn as I tuck them under my armpits but at least now I know which way is down.
When the ache gets less, I put my arms back into my sleeves and try to inch down the hill. Suddenly, my ankle twists and I see stars. Wobbling around, I almost fall into the water but in the nick of time, my fingers clamp around a low hanging bough. I use it to pull myself to the edge of the stream and feel my way to the trunk. The sticky bark is rough and tangible, the only real thing in this never-ending blindness.
Ah shit.
The injury hurts like a futher-mucker and I slide onto my ass, wondering how long before I die. I wish to hell I’d told Grayson how I feel. I don’t want him to forever think that I was a real shithead. I never would’ve called that blogger. I never called a lawyer. I just wanted to do a good job.
And well, yeah sure, I wanted to be loved.
As usual, I screwed everything up big time.
Sitting there in the dark and cold with my ankle throbbing, I can’t help but ponder my fucked-up life.
My childhood abuse always happened when my parents left me alone with my older cousin, Jeff. Hell, despite hours of therapy, I can’t even remember the first time it happened. It was so often, it’s like trying to remember your first bowl of ice cream or first hot dog.
Shit. This is not what I want to be thinking about during my last moments on earth.
God damn it. I’m going to freeze to death and leave my cousin free to abuse other young girls. I always figured I’d have more time to figure out the best way to announce it. I know I can’t take him to court. He was so careful to never do it when anyone else was around.
Fucking slime-ball.
What makes grown men crave little girls? Even though I’ve read a whole library on the subject, I can’t wrap my head around it. It’s so fucked up and I know my family won’t believe me.
What happened to Mel will probably happen to me. I remember in one group session how she said her family won’t even talk to her anymore.
My nose runs from the cold and I take the napkin out my pocket to blow. Suddenly, I get this idea and tear the paper into tiny pieces. Then, I drop them one by one into the water. A few minutes later, I do the same with the receipt.
Survivor-man says that when you get hyperthermia, you get stupid and just fall asleep and die. That doesn’t sound all that bad, I mean if you have to go.
Not sure.
I’ve stopped shivering which is probably not a good sign. Also, you’d think after spending hours in the dark, my eyes would become accustomed but it’s not like that.
There is absolutely, positively, no freaking light what-so-ever.
Eventually, I start to dream of the last time Grayson and I made love and let it take over. It’s so real, it’s as if he’s right here, kissing me.
I figure I must be dead or damn near to it.