Page 8 of Fragmented Illusions
Thump.
Thu—
“There it is!” I whisper-shout as the flash of light emerges again before disappearing almost instantly. It appears to be the same one I saw from the house earlier, and for some reason, it feels like a beacon to me. Like a safe haven. So, against what is probably my better judgement, I follow where it seems the light was coming from.
I keep my steps small and as quiet as possible as I make my way through the trees to what eventually becomes an opening.
My eyes widen as I step out into a break in the trees to find a small wooden cabin. Without the trees, the moonlight shines down and illuminates the area enough to where I can make out some of it. At first glance, I can tell the cabin is reallyreallyold. It’s practically in shambles.
The glass windows are completely busted out and there are big chunks of wood missing from the porch leading to the front door—a front door which looks as if it could fall off the hinges at any moment even though it’s closed.
Twigs and branches litter the porch, along with dirt and bugs galore. Cobwebs hang on every available inch of space, and I swear this place looks straight out of a horror movie.
Warnings flash through my mind that I probably shouldn’t go look inside.
Looking inside would be a very, very bad idea.
I take a few cautious steps forward, curiosity winning out.
I glance down at my feet as I walk to make sure I’m being as quiet as possible, though I’m not sure why. There isn’t a soul out here but me.
I let the anxiety of the encounter with Trenton wash away as I focus on this cabin. On the curiosity coursing through my veins rather than the hopelessness, the dread. The utter defeat.
My palms are slick with sweat as I lift my right foot onto the first step. I pause and dart my eyes around in every possible direction, fear and apprehension trying to slither their way through me.
This whole moment is creepy as hell. A sketchy cabin in the woods. A flashing light. Complete silence.
I time my breaths to my heartbeat as I put all of my weight on my foot and step onto the first step. It creaks and groans as my full weight rests on it. The sound shatters the silence like the glass of a window exploding. My hands shake as I steady myself before forcing myself to take another step.
Two of four steps completed.
Halfway there.
I keep my eyes focused on my surroundings more than the steps right in front of me—which was a stupid thing to do. My heel catches on the third step as I work my way up to the fourth and I almost fall flat on my face. Almost.
Somehow, I manage to right myself just before I biff it.
My hand flies to my chest as my heart thuds loudly, almost as loud as the steps.
I’m not sure if the steps sound so loud to me because they truly are, or because of the blood rushing through my ears and the adrenaline coursing through my veins, amplifying every sound around me—even the sounds of the tiniest bugs amongst the trees.
Either way, it has every single one of my senses on high alert.
I haven’t felt this alive in so long. My meds make things feel foggy most of the time. Almost as if my head weighs more than the rest of my body and there is this pressure—a physical pressure—weighing me down constantly.
I know it’s for the best—that it is something I have to suffer through because, without them, things are bad. Very bad. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t painful.
So, I’m choosing to chase this feeling of being alive because only moments ago I felt six feet under. With his hands on me, hurting me…
It makes me think about things from my past I never want to remember…
Do you remember how much you wanted it?
How your body craved his touch?
“Shut up!” I whisper yell to myself, fighting the tears suddenly burning my eyes. “I didn’t want him to touch me. Ineverdid,” I tell It, while remindingmyself.
Now on the top step and closer to the front of the cabin, I can see it appears to be in even worse shape than I thought. What appears to be mud and dirt streak the wood with deep black marks.
