Page 60 of Haunt Me

Eden: It feels true. I was raised on that.

F: It’s probably a lie.

Eden: I can’t leave him.

F: Isaiah?

Eden: Father. I can’t leave Father.

F: You would run away if you could.

Eden: That’s also not true, I can’t. I tried it today, and I almost died. I got as far as the highway, and I would have died there if it hadn’t been for Isaiah. Then he told me he loved me and I wished I had died.

F:Father?

Eden: Yeah, fat chance. No, not Father. Isaiah. Isaiah told me he loved me, and I just… panicked. I can’t believe I have done all… this. I can’t believe I let things go so far with him. He is forbidden. Getting out of my room is forbidden, getting out of the house is a major sin. I knew I would be condemned, yet I still did it. And I not only got out, but I saw a boy. I spoke to a boy.

F: I know you did.

Eden: What else do you know?

F: Whatever you tell me.

Eden: Well, I sinned. SO MUCH.

F: Why can’t you say the actual words?

Eden: I kissed him.

F: You did. You are irredeemable, according to your father.

F: Are you crying? If you are, stop crying. You did this to yourself.

Eden: And Isaiah doesn’t know it’s a sin, he… You should have seen his face, he was so confused when I told him. And now, he will be expecting me to… To keep doing it. I just can’t see any way out of this mess. It would have been my rightful punishment if I had died on that highway. Ishouldhave died. Father would have been relieved.

F: You’re in deep trouble as it is, but if your father even suspects that you have been sneaking out, you’re done for. Will you finally stop now?

Eden: I’m done. I am so done.

F: Good. Don’t go back to the woods, Eden.

Eden: I won’t.

*messages deleted*

sixteen

She doesn’t come to our woods again. I hold out for five days. Then, I text her.

Eden? Are you ok?

No reply, of course. It’s not even marked as ‘seen’.

I need to know if you are ok.

I’m losing it here.

The fifth day passes me by. I’m numb, unable to do anything. It’s about midnight now, and I’m lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Refusing to admit that I have lost her.

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