“I’m not the same person I was when I first entered those woods. I’m not sure I’m the same person I was yesterday. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.”
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“RUN!” Dr. Ward shouts.
We charge through the tall brush, weaving between trees. Details of the woods are reduced to shades of gray as the sun sets. A deep and unsettling croak bellows out from behind us, echoing through the swamp like the war cry of a thousand toads.
“SOMEBODY, HELP ME!” A woman’s shriek pierces the air. That had to be a real person, right?
“Ignore it,” Dr. Ward commands before I can even ask. “Don’t turn around.”
I attempt to convince myself it’s nothing more than a clever animal. I know some birds can mimic the sounds they hear with stunning accuracy. Even ravens have been known to copy human noises. This creature just happens to mimic someone screaming in terror unnervingly well. Unfortunately, we’re not dealing with a damned bird.
I can’t help myself, and I look behind me. Everything further than twenty feet into the woods falls away into complete darkness. But two glistening red eyes bob up and down, obscured only by the passing trees and branches. The blood-red glow pierces the night with vile hatred.
Suddenly, searing hot pain rockets through my body as I slam my face into a low branch. I crumble to the ground and groan in pain. I blink. My vision is blurred, but I can still see those red eyes racing toward me closer and closer. We’re mere seconds from the edge of the woods. How close to the town is this creature willing to get? Will it leave the woods? Can it?
“I told you not to look,” Dr. Ward lifts me up and brushes the dirt out of my face. “Always look where you’re running.”
Dr. Ward’s black eyes then shift toward the approaching danger. Then, he pulls out a hilt of his own, a worn silver color. Time slows as white light explodes from both ends of the hilt. But it doesn’t form a sword. Instead, Dr. Ward uses his other hand to pull on an imaginary bowstring. The two ends bend, and a glittering arrow materializes between his fingertips.
He draws the arrow back and takes aim. I’m still in shock, partly from the blood dripping down my face, and partly from the fact that bows are apparently an option for reaper weapons. The monster is within range and approaching at an unsettling speed. I watch anxiously, waiting for him to shoot. I doubt a single arrow will do much other than piss it off, but still, shoot dammit! But Dr. Ward suddenly aims away from the monster, and points the arrow upward.
He releases the arrow. It rockets up into the canopy with a silver trail of glittering light and slams into something hanging in the trees. Suddenly, fire erupts above us and I understand everything.
A bundle of oil and animal fat hanging from a rope quickly catches fire. My dad used to fill big leather pouches with fat before he went hunting. I never understood how that was supposed to help him catch anything. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Dad was helping Dr. Ward make traps. The rope quickly snaps and the flaming hide drops from the tree. Bright gold flames scatter across the white snow, flooding the woods with light.
The creature comes to a heavy stop. I squint my eyes in the light to see it a little better, but immediately, I wish I hadn’t. My mind scrambles to erase every detail from memory before trauma twists my thoughts into madness. Nothing about this creature makes sense, like some kind of taxidermy nightmare. It shouldn’t be alive. But those hate-filled eyes twitch with bloodlust as they stare at Dr. Ward.
“Come on,” he grabs my arm and pulls me.
We rush through the woods until we reach the clearing, and then keep running still. My lungs burn by the time we reach the door of the mansion. Dr. Ward doesn’t say a word as he pulls me through the halls. We reach the library and he quickly locks the door behind us.
“Sit down,” he demands and places me in a chair.
“How many of those traps have you set out there?” I ask.
“More than I can count.” He doesn’t look at me as he sheds his jacket and rolls up his sleeves. “She hates light.”
“She?” I mutter. That thing has a gender?
“Hold still,” he says before dabbing an alcohol-soaked rag on my face.
I hiss at the sudden burn. Shit, I must have hit my head pretty good. The adrenaline begins to wear off and a wave of pain rushes through my skull. I look in the mirror and immediately know I can’t hide this from my mom. What the hell am I going to tell her?
Dr. Ward then presses his hand against a wooden panel on the wall, revealing a little door. I sit up, holding the rag against my head. He reaches his hand in to pull out a small bone. God, I hope that isn’t human. He snaps the bone in half and inhales the burst of white light that escapes it.
I have so many questions. But before I can arrange any of them into a coherent thought, he places his palm on my head. Bright red light glows around his hand and warmth spills over my face.
“There,” he says, pulling his hand away. “Can’t send you home with cuts and bruises.”
I quickly turn my head to look at the mirror. My short curly hair is in a state of distress, and my face is covered in dirt, but there isn’t a scrape or cut or even a bruise.
“What did you do?” I ask with bewilderment.
Before he can answer, my phone rings. “Mom” spells out across the screen. Shit, I’m late.
“Another time, maybe,” he replies. “Get yourself cleaned up and head home before your mother also tries to kill us.”
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Luckily, Mom buys my “I was visiting Granny and lost track of time” bit. I was sure to actually visit Granny before leaving, so it isn’t a complete lie. Nevertheless, she guilts me for making her worry as I reheat my dinner.
Maggie keeps me up most of the night as I tell her everything, and, for once, I think I’m almost as excited as she is. We spend hours naming my abilities and guessing what other abilities I might develop. Not that I could sleep anyway. Every time I close my eyes, I just see the emaciated faces of those prisoners staring at me in the dark.
I make the decision to include every detail in my blog. I know Hannah reads it religiously, and I doubt I’ll have the energy to explain it all again at school. I’m not worried about anyone else reading it. It’s far beyond the realm of believability at this point.
The next morning, I feel surprisingly energetic despite the lack of sleep. I have far too much on my mind to be tired. Mom’s working late again tonight, so I put on some black lipstick and an outfit that would absolutely appall her. I look in the mirror and comb my fingers through my hair, then shrug. I like it messy. A new aura is building inside me, like I finally understand exactly what I am, and why black looks so good on me.
I get to school and immediately feel the weight of other students staring at me. In fact, a few more eyes watch me as I enter, but no one says anything. Even Brennan stifles his usual banter. He just watches me in stunned silence as I enter the rotunda.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
I smile and confidently walk past them. Let them stare. Let them whisper like I’m something other than human. Because I’m not human. I’m a fucking reaper.
I round the corner and spot Liam. His face tenses with concern when he looks at me, like my arrival is somehow unexpected. He quickly looks away and I follow his gaze. Immediately, my confidence descends into horror and the blood drains from my face.
Two uniformed police officers stand in front of my locker with Principal Summers. My skin turns cold when I look at my locker, as something dark and red drips from its base. A foul odor then invades my nose. It’s sour and pungent. I recognize that smell now. Decay.
“Miss Everly,” Principal Summers’ shrill voice scratches through the air. Her face is painted with both disappointment and horror. “Open your locker, please.”
“What’s going on?” I ask
“You tell us,” she replies with her arms crossed. “Whatever you’ve hidden in here is obviously creating an odor.”
“It’s just books, I swear.” Even I don’t believe that. What the hell is in my locker?
“Open it Miss Everly,” she demands.
Reluctantly, I spin the lock. My fingers tremble as I twist the knob, and the smell gets worse and worse. I see the eyes of every other student look at me with disgust. A look I'm familiar with, but this is worse. The lock softly clicks with the final combination and I take a deep breath.
Slowly, I pull the locker door open. My mind floods with every horrid macabre thing that could be inside. What if I’ve awoken some dark spirit? Is Mallory angry with me? Is her bloated corpse in my locker somehow?
What I find is far less imaginative, but curious and awful all the same. A dead black cat is crumpled in the base of my locker. Its face has already shrunken in and its eyes have dissolved into empty sockets. Part of its ribcage is exposed, leaking dark red bile into my locker and the locker beneath it. It didn't crawl into my locker on its own. Someone put it in here. I’ve seen enough death at this point to recognize roadkill.
Strange drawings of pentagrams and nonsensical symbols are painted in red inside the locker. Gasps fill the hall and whispers swirl around me.
“Witch.”
“She’s a monster.”
“Psycho.”
“Freak.”
Then, I spot a small detail on the inside of my locker door. “SLUT” is written in black Sharpie. The handwriting is elegantly feminine, marked by a pink lipstick kiss over it. I spot Jaqueline conveniently within eyesight, leaning against the wall, feigning utter horror.
Part of me wants to cry. Part of me wants to break her nose.
“Come with me,” Principal Summers demands, grabbing my arm.
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I knew Jaqueline was dramatic, but this is insane. She must have snuck in over the weekend and broke into my locker. And since her mom is the principal, she could have stolen the master keys from her fairly easily. But of course her mother would never believe that. In summary, I’m screwed.
“Thank you for joining us, Missus—” Principal Summers pauses, clearly unsure what to call my mother as she enters the office. All of my mom’s campaign posters say vote for Adelina Alvarado, which is my mom’s maiden name. But, of course, her problem child, yours truly, still uses her given last name, Everly. Then there’s the matter of being a widow. Some people say missus, some say miss, most avoid the problem entirely with ma’am. Principal Summers clearly isn’t clever enough to think of the latter. Apparently the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. She doesn’t bother to finish her sentence before my mother cuts her off.
“Mija,” Mom’s first word cuts through the air as her eyes stab me like daggers. My outfit and black lipstick aren’t doing me any favors. Her gaze is so angry, part of me worries I’ll suddenly catch on fire and burn to death in this room.
“¿Qué hiciste?” She asks, knowing full well that Principal Summers can’t understand her.
“Nothing, Mamá,” I groan.
My mom clicks her tongue. “¿Cómo que nada? Vestido así, seguro que quieres buscar problemas.”
“Ma’am, please,” Principal Summers begs. “I’d be happy to explain everything if you could please sit.” She gestures to the chair beside me.
Mom fakes a half-smile and sits straight up in the chair. She somehow manages to be the most commanding figure in the room. The office is small. The wall behind Principal Summers is covered by bookshelves of decorative books I doubt anyone has ever read. There are pictures of her family standing on a few of the shelves. Her desk is filled with little wooden blocks with inspirational messages like “Inspire” and “Believe”, as well as the obligatory Bible verse.
Everything about Principal Summers is well groomed and pampered. Her neat blonde hair curls out at the bottom almost perfectly. Her roots barely show, likely from getting them highlighted recently. Her jacket is pressed, and her gold necklace is on full display.
“We received a report of a foul smell coming from Miss Everly’s locker,” she begins after a short breath. “Upon opening it, we found a dead cat and some disturbing drawings.”
My mom doesn’t say anything. She simply scrunches her eyebrows and narrows her lips, as if she’s switching to councilwoman mode.
“I didn’t put that in there,” I say.
“Well, I hope even you would never put a dead animal in your locker,” Summers replies. “But if not you, then who?”
I bite my lip, knowing the answer will fall on deaf ears.
“Jaqueline,” I mutter.
Summers drops her shoulders and tilts her head as if I just told a silly lie. “Why would Jaqueline ever do such a thing?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “She probably thinks I stole her new boyfriend.”
“Aye,” Mom gasps. “A boyfriend? First I'm hearing about that.”
“No, Ma,” I groan.
“Jaqueline would never do that,” Principal Summers offers a condescending smile.
“How do you know that?” My mother bites back. My eyes widen. I’m surprised she’s actually defending me. “Do you have cameras?”
“Well, no. But—” She tries to defend herself.
“Then you don’t know.” Mom leans forward. “My daughter is being bullied and you wish to punish her for it?”
“She’s not in any trouble.” Summers quickly backpedals.
“Then what are we doing here?” Mom raises her voice. I’m still in silent shock.
“Even if this was just a prank,” Summers says, pulling notebooks from her desk. My notebooks. “Some disturbing drawings were found in her notebooks.”
She opens my notebook, presenting my drawing of the monster in the woods. The detailed drawings leave little to the imagination. My mother’s face is stone cold, but I can see the horror in her eyes. Her body is completely still and resolute, but her eyes waver, as if deeply troubled by something.
“Her father died only two years ago,” Mom finally speaks. Her voice is calm and slow. “And you snoop through her private things?” Her eyes narrow on Principal Summers. “She is mourning, she can draw what she likes.” Mom stands from her chair.
“Mrs. Alvarado, please—” Summers begins.
“Thank you for wasting government time,” Mom replies coldly. “You will return all of my daughter’s belongings and move her to a different locker, away from Jaqueline.” She turns toward the door.
“We will need to keep a closer eye on Miss Everly from now on.” Summers attempts to regain the lead.
“Yes you will.” My mom looks back at her with a look that shakes me. “To ensure she isn’t bullied again. Now send her back to class. I can’t do your job and mine.” She turns and leaves the office without even looking back at me.
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All of my belongings are returned to me, and I’m given a new locker, as instructed. However, I immediately throw away my notebooks and anything else that stinks of decay.
“Hey Autumn,” Liam says from behind me.
I’m not really sure how I managed to earn Liam’s companionship. I spoke to him one time in class and I guess that was enough. I have to admit, he can be sweet. It’s nice to have an actual friend who doesn’t think of me as a superhero or science experiment.
“Hey.” I don’t bother to offer a smile. I don’t know if I could fake one right now.
“I was going to warn you, but I was too late,” He mutters. His long blonde hair droops over his eyes.
“Don’t sweat it. I had it coming.” I shrug. “Just pissed I had to throw away most of my stuff. It smelled like shit.”
“Oh!” Liam digs through his backpack and pulls out a black leather notebook, wrapped in a single ribbon. “I was going to give it to you before the whole… cat thing.” His cheeks flush red. “I saw you were using your school notes to draw and I figured you deserved something a bit nicer.”
I pull the bow off and open it, in shock for the second time today. The notebook is filled with thick sketch paper. I’ve never really invested in any sketch pads or visited many art stores, so this is easily the nicest notebook I’ve ever held. Why would he give me this?
“I don’t know what to say,” I mutter. “Why?”
“I liked your drawings,” he says. “You’re a great artist.”
I smile. But before I can reply, an announcement comes over the speakers.
“All students, please report to the gym for a mandatory assembly. All students…” The speaker repeats again.
I look back for Liam, but he’s already gone.