Page 14 of Where Daisies Breathe (Star Meadows #2)

The images of that day are so vividly clear, which is so strange. Why can I remember that moment, the one that sent a jolt of fear soaring through my veins, and yet other terrifying moments are clipped with distortion?

“I thought that about her too.” He stares down at the ground as we wind around a corner of the path. “I think we were all that way at that time in our lives, trying to pretend everything was okay when the goddamn woods were practically on fire around us.”

It’s odd to hear someone else speak about the woods in a way that burrows into my bones.

We fall silent, the whispering of the wind and the gentle thudding of our shoes against the dirt filling up the silence.

The farther we hike, the steeper the trail becomes.

I tell myself to breathe, that I’m not alone.

That this isn’t the same as when things happened in the woods.

But images are circling me like the leaves in the wind, of snow, of blood, of me standing on a cliffside, wishing I could summon up enough bravery to walk down by myself.

I don’t want to be here…

“The trees are growing around it pretty thickly this year,” my father says to my uncle.

“I know. It’s good,” my uncle replies. “It’ll keep the place hidden really well.”

“No one will go out there anyway. Not with all the locked gates and warning signs about hunting going on in the area,” my father states. “I do want to put up a few more signs, though, just as an added precaution.”

“You worry too much,” my uncle replies.

“You were the one they went after back in Forkfield,” my father reminds him.

“That was your damn fault. You got lazy and took too many risks.” My uncle gives a short pause. “You’re lucky we have connections or else you’d be staring at four cement walls instead of this.”

When I peer over my shoulder, my uncle is gesturing out at the land in front of us.

The sky is cloudy, and the edge of the cliff is right in front of me.

I don’t want to be here. I don't want to listen to them talk about dark things that are so frightening and confusing to me. I don’t want to stare across the land of trees at the house in the distance that looks haunted, so alone and isolated, like I feel.

I didn’t even want to come on this hike, but the entire family came.

They’re all behind me on the flat land at the top of this ledge.

I cried the whole way up as the trail became steeper.

I made it, though, but everyone made fun of me.

Then they started talking about stuff I didn’t want to hear about.

I want to go back down, but my mother told me that I had to walk back by myself if I did.

I’ve inched toward the ledge to where the trail starts to descend. It’s so steep that I worry I’m going to fall.

I feel sick.

“You’re going to fall,” my father says to me. “Stupid girl needs to be taught a lesson.”

“Then teach her one,” my uncle replies over the sound of my mother and aunt chatting about the big dinner on Sunday.

Trystan, his brother, and sister are running around, hitting each other with sticks. My mother told me to play with them, but I can barely breathe up here where the clouds are too close and the flat land is too far away.

“You should shove her off the ledge,” my uncle tells my father with amusement in his voice. “That’ll teach her.”

As my father laughs, I spin around in horror.

When I see that he’s charging at me, I instinctively step back, not thinking about anything other than getting away from him.

But I slip and stumble toward the ledge.

My scream echoes across the desolate land as I grab onto the dirt and try to claw my way back up.

My father’s face goes from taunting to blazing with anger.

“What the hell are you doing?” He kneels down, grabs my arms, and drags me back up onto the flat area.

Tears stream from my eyes as I kneel up and look around. Everyone is staring at me like I’m stupid. Maybe I am. My hands are cut up, my knees are scuffed, and I’m crying.

“You were going to push me,” I whisper through my tears.

Shaking his head, my father gets to his feet and dusts off the dirt from his pants. “It was a joke. Jesus, what is wrong with you?”

I don’t know , I think to myself. But everyone keeps saying that, so maybe I am broken ? —

I gasp from the memory, my gaze sweeping the ledge beside me.

Ellis is in front of me, but he spins around. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” I inch to the side and keep my eyes fixed on him. “It’s just the steepness. Well, and also I’m remembering things about my childhood that apparently I’d suppressed about this place.”

Wisps of his brown hair flutter in the breeze. “Memories of that day?”

I shake my head while hugging my arms around myself.

Goosebumps dot my arms even though the air is warm.

“No, about when I was younger.” My gaze travels upward to the peak of where we’re hiking to.

“I was up there and…” I trail off as one particular image from the memory stands out, like blood seeping through snow.

“You can see a house from up there.” I point up to the spot where I almost fell all those years ago.

How did I forget all of this?

How do I forget so much?

“My uncle and my father were talking about it… about a fence surrounding the area and signs prohibiting hunting… They seemed proud about that… And then they were talking about almost getting busted back when my family and I lived in Forkfield.” I frown at my own words.

“Why the hell am I remembering all of these things? Is it really because I came into the woods finally?” Where all of my horrible memories are buried out here beneath the roots of the trees?

The ones that have seen everything .

“I’m not sure.” His brows knit quizzically as he assesses me. “Do you think you can make it to the top of this trail? Because I’d like to see this house.”

My lips quiver as I angle my head back, my gaze trailing across the dirt path that goes up the hill and to the top.

I made it up there when I was younger. Granted, I didn’t have a choice.

Do I have one now? Can I run because of my phobia?

Run from a possible clue to a truth I’ve wondered about for years?

“You always have a choice, Ava,” my therapist once said to me. “It’s just that sometimes making a choice can be difficult.”

Branches claw across my face, and the snow seeps through my pants and shoes. I want to give up. Every aching muscle in my body is screaming for me to do it. And yet I fight. I choose to fight for my life.

I square my shoulders. “I can make it up there.”

He takes one look at my face and nods without questioning me.

We start forward again. My legs tremble the entire way.

The higher we get, the more it feels like I’m stuck in a state of vertigo.

I stare at the ground, refusing to glance up.

One foot in front of the other. I’m struggling and moving slowly.

I’d be worried Ellis is getting upset, but that’s not who he is.

My breathing rushes out of me in quiet, unsteady breaths.

When he reaches back and offers me his hand, I’m so far gone in focusing not to have a full-blown panic attack that I instinctively take it.

It might be the first time in years that I’ve held hands with anyone.

It helps, though, the feeling of his fingers tethering me to something sturdy.

So that’s what I focus on, that Ellis won’t let me fall. That I won’t let myself fall.

By the time we arrive at the top, the sunlight has begun to fade away, and the sky is painted with pastel shades of orange and pink.

“It took a while to get up here,” I breathe out as I regain my bearings. “Sorry, that’s my fault.”

“You’re fine. We made it and that’s all that matters.” He squeezes my hand. “Thank you for doing this. I could tell how difficult it was for you.”

I’m about to smile, something I didn’t think was possible in this type of situation. But then my attention wanders to the cliffside and what lies out in the distance amongst the thick trees.

A small house-like structure secured by a lot of fencing.

“Part of me was hoping I remembered incorrectly,” I mutter as I stare at the house.

My heart is thudding so loudly I can feel it in my veins, pumping blood through me like racing footsteps from someone fleeing for their life.

It’s there, in the darkness of my mind, a seed begging to finally bloom as it gets its first taste of oxygen in a long time.

I think if it could grow, it’d become a daisy.

I look at Ellis. “I think something awful happened in that house.”