Page 24 of The Bleeding Woods

Going back into the abyss means facing Jasper again.

He could send me spiraling into a vortex of whispers.

I didn’t realize how vulnerable I’d become, how stupidly helpless I’d been against the caliber of control he’s capable of.

In his palm, my mind turned to a scoop of melting vanilla doused with higher-reasoning hot fudge.

It was dessert for him to lap up with his agile tongue, so syrupy while dancing with mine.

Simply thinking about another cursed kiss makes the corners of my lips tingle.

I can feel his slender fingers, cold as an ice cube at my abdomen, waiting eagerly to pull up my smile.

Dance with me, Clara.

Snap out of it, Clara.

I won’t let him in again. I don’t know if it’s the absence of my medication or pure adrenaline, but I won’t let him in again.

How could I have been so stupid? How could I have trusted him?

If we are the same sort of monster, I should have known better.

Some terrible, naive part of me wanted to believe we could be good.

We can’t be good. Joey’s death proves it a million terrible times over.

I lead Grayson and Jade to the tree that tore open his insides. There’s no way I’d be able to verbalize what happened. They need to see it with their own eyes. Then I can manage a way to explain, to apologize. It will do nothing, but I owe it to Grayson.

Grayson. Poor Grayson. Grayson, whose brother is gone because of me. Grayson, whose entire existence is in jeopardy because of me. Grayson, whose heart I’ve smothered before I even had the chance to hold it.

The maze of wood and shadows makes our journey all but easy. However, a trail of fallen leaves, uncharacteristically lively, lead the way. Something hateful claws at the corners of my consciousness. These leaves . . . they belonged to the florets that sprouted from Joey’s lips.

I’m going to be sick.

“Clara, please. Tell me what’s going on.” Grayson is out of breath. I withhold my flinch when he grabs my hand and forces me to face him. “Answer me.”

“It’s just a little further.”

“What is?”

“Grayson, I . . .” My mouth clamps shut, teeth chattering in place.

Dread pours over his pupils like a pair of cataracts. Like the nictitating membrane of a shark eye, it is so hopelessly protective. The dread turns to a waterfall of fear that trickles toward his lips, weighing on them until they are downturned. I pull him farther, my body tensing in preparation.

We’re almost there. I can smell Joey’s blood on the breeze.

Finally, the path of green reaches a single petal, placed purposefully to mark its end.

My neck hinges slowly and reluctantly, tilting until my gaze goes skyward.

Endless unspoken explanations gather at the tip of my tongue, apologies right behind them.

However, instead of Joey’s mutilated body, I find only a gathering of twisted branches that hadn’t been there before.

“What?” My voice is airy with disbelief.

I can tell that Grayson had been holding back tears. “Y-you got me. Very funny. Let’s go back.”

“He was here . . . he was right here.”

“Stop it, Clara. Let’s just head back to the car.”

“No, he was here. Jasper—”

Jade’s temper shoots sky-high. “You woke us up and dragged us into the middle of the woods to go hunting for your imaginary forest friend? You just worried the hell out of Grayson because of the talking trees?”

“He’s doing something to me, Jade! It’s like he’s using some kind of spell, or . . . or mind control. After we got back from the laboratory, I left the car, and—”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

She makes me want to explode. I grit my teeth, already feeling them starting to writhe against my gums. I need my pills.

“You’re not listening to me! You never listen to me! Ever since I met him at the gas station, Jasper has been—”

“Jasper is the guy from the gas station too?” she booms. “Do you even hear yourself? You sound insane!”

“Of course I do! It’s not like you’re a stranger to the concept, though! Maybe it runs in the family, because you sounded pretty insane when you dragged us down into a cave on the brink of collapse yesterday!”

“That was different!”

“How was that different? I went chasing an imaginary forest friend, and you went chasing some flimsy conspiracy theory for a chance to know more about our parents, who’ve been dead for ten years! I’m chasing demons, you’re chasing ghosts! It’s the same thing!”

A deafening silence takes the space. A single crow flies overhead, breaking it with a croon.

“Okay.” Grayson takes my hand, lacing our fingers. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”

“I don’t need to lie down.”

“You’re scared, and stressed, and maybe a little sleep deprived.” He brings my knuckles to his lips and kisses them. “I’m worried about you. Please, just . . . let me help.”

Oh no.

One look into his eyes, and I’m safe again. I shouldn’t feel safe. We aren’t safe. I got his brother killed, and in return, he’s kissing my hand. He’s making a damsel of me, but I’m the dragon in this faux fairy tale. He should be driving a sword through my skull, not an arrow through my heart.

Guilt ravages me. It ravages my vocal cords, and my nerves, and all that’s left of my senses.

I shouldn’t have yelled at Jade. I shouldn’t have let myself lean in to anger I’m not entitled to.

I shouldn’t have worried Grayson. Perhaps this is all just a stress-induced delusion.

A snowstorm and a slick road could have killed my parents.

Jasper could be a desert mirage of my darkest desires.

Joey could be alive. And the pills . . .

the pills could be antipsychotics designed to wipe away what isn’t there.

I hope with all of my heart that it isn’t there.

“I’m sorry . . .” I cave in. “I didn’t mean to . . . Grayson, I . . . Jade—”

“Whatever,” she scoffs, then starts for the road.

Grayson pulls me in for a hug, the soft fabric of his shirt wafting the scent of clean linen.

I breathe it in; I breathe him in. Jasper might be a trip to the underworld, but Grayson .

. . Grayson’s a ticket to the sunniest island on planet Earth.

I bury my face in his pectorals, and despite my inhumanity, I cry. He holds on tighter with each tear.

“Shhh, shhh . . . it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He’s got me. Everything’s okay because he’s got me.

Unraveling from him is a necessary torture because we can’t allow Jade to wander off alone. However, as we walk back toward the road, we walk hand in hand. I stay safe because he’s got me. I feel human because he’s got me.

The Hummer sits idle as a statue and empty as a disemboweled beast. The blankets in the back seat remain tousled, Joey’s forlorn chocolate bars strewn across them. My bag of medicinal mental stability beckons, and I take today’s dose without water.

“I’m sure he just wandered off, but he couldn’t have gotten far,” Grayson muses calmly. “Let’s get our bearings and start heading up the way we came.”

Jade sucks on a new cigarette. When she speaks, I can sense how it’s soothing the nerves I stirred. “You think he tried going back?”

“I think he tried to get a head start. You know Joey. He loves being the hero.”

“He could have gone toward your mom’s place. I could go that way.”

“We shouldn’t split up.”

I move to the opposite side of our car, sinking down to steady my breathing as the pink floods my veins.

The world beyond the road stares back at me.

It just keeps staring at me. Even though this morning is brighter than yesterday’s overcast afternoon, the sun seems afraid to shine.

It casts pale, sickly streams of yellow across the floor, none of them bright enough to chase away the dark.

In the distance, a single white sneaker drops from the skeletal canopy. It lies on its side in the dirt, mud caked into the creases of its sole. Through it, a pair of initials have been drawn in black ink.

J. W.

Joseph Warner.

My breath catches, my arteries burn, and fiery rage surges through my entire being.

Some buried, feral part of me lusts for revenge so desperately, I consider marching into the abyss to exact it.

It is the part of me I know will come alive if I discard a dosage.

Sadly, anger does not hold up well against fear, and fear is precisely what I feel when something else drops down from the treetops.

Like a specter shrouded by the blur of distance, the shape of a boy lowers like a puppet on strings. It is too far away for me to discern any details beyond one of his arms as it rises to wave. My stomach churns. Despite the cruel voice that is hope, I know it isn’t Joey, and if it is . . .

My secondary musing is obliged when the puppet is swung closer.

Once moved into a sunny spotlight, its features become clear.

Joey’s corpse dangles from a quintet of vines spun around his wrists, ankles, and broken neck.

His jaw hangs beyond the constraints of normal jaws, having been torn loose by the branch that had come up through his throat.

His eyes are blank and hazy, but his gaze sits forever forward.

I cover my mouth to conceal a scream and to block out the putrid smell.

“Would you like me to show them?” Jasper’s whisper fills my ears, though he remains out of sight. “So that they’ll believe you?”

All I can do is shake my head, furiously and feverishly as bitter bile makes its way toward my esophagus. There is a deadly stillness in the air. Then the marionette version of Joey is pulled away, lost to the unearthly gloom. I release a breath that shudders audibly enough to alert Grayson.

“Clara? Are you all right? What’s happening over there?”

He approaches and helps me to my feet. When I stare into his eyes, I offer every apology my lips dare not speak. He did not see Joey, but I did. I’m certain I will see him on the back of my eyelids every time I slip them closed.