It wasn't the first time she'd wandered into the woods alone but it was the first time she did it without a flashlight — and on the verge of something. She didn't know what exactly.
Numbness had wrapped itself around her for years now — a quiet invisible frost. Since him. Since Mateo Carter. Since that one high school moment ruined a little girl's trust in the world.
But now, as her feet moved on autopilot, leading her to the one place she could truly be alone, she felt it.
The swell. The shatter.
I haven't cried in years. Not when Papa punished me. Not when the press tore me apart. But tonight, I feel a crack. Something is coming. A scream? A sob? Rage? Something. I just don't know what.
She wasn't afraid of the dark surrounding her, she welcomed it. She was afraid of what she might feel in it. Just as she burst out into a familiar clearing, something stilled in her. Bells went off in her head. Something was different. The woods felt different.
Her eyes roamed around, but they saw nothing but black. She reached into her pocket, searching, but found only air. She cursed under her breath.
Bloody hell. I forgot my flashlight.
She heard the snap of a twig behind her and whipped around quickly. She couldn't see anything, but she felt it. A presence. A presence that was evidently good at staying undetectable. Never mind that the dark was aiding it. Her heart rate picked up, thundering in her ears.
What should I do? Shout for help? Pfft. It's the middle of nowhere, who would hear you. You would be exposing yourself too.
Wait. To what exactly? Who is to say it's actually a person in the woods. What if it was a... an animal. A bear? Wait. A wolf? A werewolf?! This is how they usually stalk or stumble on their mates, right? Does that mean I'm mated to one?
Seriously? That's what you're thinking about in this situation?
Well. I'm thinking of all the possibilities.
Get a hold, girl. You're about to be devoured!
"If you're trying to camouflage, your hair is doing a bad job of keeping you hidden." A deep voice came from behind her.
A shriek tore from her lips before she could stop herself. She slammed a hand over her lips, looking around frantically for the source of the voice. It was a man. Obviously.
"Wh—who are you?"
No answer.
The hair on her arms stood, an eerie feeling washing through her. This is why girls are told not to stay out once it's dark. She scoffed.
The dark would be safe if perverts learnt to keep to themselves. Did he follow me? I wouldn't have realized with how... out of it I was.
"Did you just scoff?"
"Did you just sound impressed? What do you want?" She asked, ignoring everything in her telling her to run.
Not your brightest of decisions.
When did I ever make good decisions? Ask Papa, he could write a book on that.
"For someone I almost stabbed thinking he... Or she, as it turns out to be, followed me, you have guts." A chuckle. "You don't sound as unfazed as you would like to portray though."
"Al— Almost stabbed?!" She stook a step back.
"Scared now, are we?"
Two more steps. "Wh—What do you want?! Why would you stab me? I don't even know you!"
She noticed a movement in front of her. A silhouette, lowering itself to the ground. A deep exhale later. "Came out here to be alone." The voice was low this time. Something echoed in it. A break. A weight that she recognized. "It worked. Until you ruined it."
Against her better judgement, she lowered herself to the ground too. "I came out here to be alone, too. And you're the one intruding — this is my spot." She could faintly make out his movement, a tilt towards her. "You didn't think the grasses cleared themselves, did you?"
There was no answer.
Taking the hint, she stayed quiet, staring ahead. In spite of herself, she stayed alert, tuning her senses to detect any movement. Especially one in her direction. There was none. It was as if she was alone. Slowly, she relaxed. Losing focus. Despite the eerie situation and how she could possibly be in danger, the silence — his presence — felt like a comforting constant.
Her voice was low. "Is this supposed to be this... Easy? I mean, you feel like a familiar comfort?"
"I wouldn't know anything about companionship."
She rolled her eyes. "Yet you knew that's what I was talking about. What's your name?"
"Eli."
"Yeah. And I'm Queen Elizabeth."
"Do you often hide behind sarcasm?"
"Do you often deflect and play dumb?"
"No. Why would I tell you my name? We're strangers. I don't trust you."
"I don't ei..." A pause. "... But... maybe that's why this could work?"
"Work?"
"You know... A night that's not real. We talk. Say anything. No names. Or I could just call you Eli."
"Why would I do that?"
"We're both obviously bothered and unable to share with the people in our lives... So..." She shrugged and lay on the ground. "Unless you'd rather sit here in silence like a cryptid."
She gazed up at the sky, the beautiful view through the canopy of trees reminding her why she had fallen in love with this spot.
"And in the morning?"
She pursed her lips. "We forget it all happened. Leave at the first sign of daylight."
"Before daylight."
"Works for me."
"Red."
"What?"
"I'll call you Red."
She huffed a small laugh. "Why?"
"Because under the trees, with the moon catching just right... your hair was the only real thing I saw. It was bright — loud — like it refused to blend into the dark." A pause. "Like you."
She touched her hair, a little self-conscious. "Um. It's actually dark ginger. Richer, deeper. Not that loud, more like... subtle brushstrokes in low light."
She felt movement and turned her head to him. He laid beside her. Not too close that they touched but close enough that she could reach out and touch him.
"That's why I like painting," he replied. "It's not just the bright colors, but the shadows you paint between them. Every stroke tells a story."
She smiled, tucking a strand behind her ear. "I get that. Photography's the same —catching what most people miss. The quiet moments, the way light plays on something no one really notices. So, you paint or what?"
"M-hm. Been interested since I was a kid. I drowned myself in it when I was in juvie."
Juvie? Does that mean what I think it does?
"Juvenile facility?"
"Uh-huh."
It was quiet for a while. They just laid there, two troubled souls seeking a moment of peace.
"I know it's crazy, and probably insulting, but sometimes... I wish I had something drastic. Juvenile, exile, anything. Just to escape this... name. This version of me." Her voice broke, "I know it's not the same, I do — but I get that need to be somewhere far away. Where no one knows my name or expects anything from me. That's why I love college. Or loved college — Everyone knows my name now. I'm trying to escape my... suffocating life. Many people would call it privileged and probably hate on me."
He scoffed. "They expect a lot from you in juvie, Red. Privileged? More like a Glided cage."
Her head snapped to him. "You...you understand. Makes me wonder what exactly you're fighting."
"Darker demons. Monsters... They're often not born. They're made."
She heard a gurgle — like water moving in an object. Then a clink, and a loud gulp. She turned to him, her eyes straining against the dark, "You brought a drink?"
"M-hm."
Why in Mary's name did I not think of that?
"Share?" She stretched out a hand. She felt a cold glass at her elbow and retracted her hand to grab it. She took a gulp from the bottle, a satisfying burn rolling down her throat. She took more swigs.
"Don't get drunk, Red. I won't take you home."
She felt a tap on her shoulder and she pouted, knowing he wanted the drink back. She passed it back to him. "You're good at acting like you don't care."
"You act like you don't give a fuck. And I don't care... Most times."
"Touché. I wish I didn't care most times."
He said nothing. They shared the drink, passing it intermittently between themselves. She stared up at the sky, her vision blurring as her mind wandered. "I haven't cried in years," she started in a low, quiet tone. She could hear the tears in her voice. Knew he could too. He had stopped drinking. "I got involved with this guy when I was in high school. He was dreamy. You know, the guy every girl in school wanted: Quarterback, Hot, part of the Top-tier students in the school. He was... a lot. He Smiled only at me. He loved or rather, claimed to love my photography and always carried my camera bag -"
She went on and on, while he listened silently — never interrupting her. Or offering empty words. He said nothing, not when her throat became too clogged from her tears for her to speak. Not when she paused to gather herself.
"He asked for photos. Personal photos. He promised they'd be just for his eyes. Only it wasn't–" She shaked her head. "I can't tell you more about that. It was all over the internet until I took care of it. If I told you—"
"Then don't. Share only what you want to, Red."
She turned a tear-stained face towards the figure beside her, her voice shaking. "I want to, Eli. Just-" She trailed off, twisting her hands around on her lap. "We're not supposed to know each other after this. You would easily find me if I told you. Also, It—It broke something inside me"
She was quiet for a while.
"The entire school ate the break-up up. I think a few actually saw the photos. And oh, when Papa discovered the missing funds, he was furious. Raging. It was the first time he laid hands on me since I was a little girl. Took my phone, cut me off socially, shipped me off to a convent-like boarding school for "reformation." Cut me off financially for a year, and forced me to "re-earn" his trust. Which I never had much of to start with."
"Woah. Take a breath, Red."
She took a breath in, held it and released it with a deep exhale that racked her frame. She let the exhale shake out of her, blinking up at the stars. "That felt... like too much."
"It wasn't," he said after a pause. "It was brave."
She turned her head slightly. "Your turn."
"I don't do brave."
"Liar. You listened to me spill my guts without saying a word. That's braver than most."
Silence.
"I've never told anyone all of that," she whispered.
"I've never told anyone this either."
She looked toward his silhouette. Still unreadable. She wanted so badly to hear what he was struggling with, offer him the same listening ear he had given her without the psychoanalyzing shit others tried to pull off. Maybe he...
"I killed someone."
She sat up, body still. Her mind went blank and she stared blankly down at the dark figure lying by her side.
He did what?
"I was fifteen. My dad was hurting them... Mami, my little sister. I tried my best to shield them from him, especially my Germana. That day, he said if I stepped in I was dead too. I didn't plan it. I just... reacted. Like my body knew before my brain did." (Mami - mum/mother. Germana - sister)
Silence again. But it wasn't empty, it was understanding.
"It wasn't the killing that fucked me up," he said softly, like he was talking to the trees. "It was how easy it was. Like my hands were always meant to do that."
Isabella sat very still.
"He was my father," he added, his voice dipped in gravel. "But he wasn't a dad. Just a monster wearing one's face."
Her breath caught. A long silence. Then:
"They said it was self-defense. The court didn't care. His family had too much money, too much influence. Mami tried to prove it, but..."
He let the sentence bleed into silence.
"...I spent three years in juvie. When I got out, I was pissed off and broke. I was so angry at the world and I couldn't bring myself to go home, not with how much of a mess I was. Still I'm. I don't want them to see what I've become. The only people who don't flinch around me are the kind who carried knives, guns and get into shitty things."
She didn't say anything. But he could feel her watching him.
"Two nights ago," he added, so quietly she barely heard him, "I...killed someone else. This time, on purpose. To prove myself."
He let that hang. And then he said quietly, "You're the first person I've told. I don't know why."
Maybe because I'm just as fucked up.
Isabella's voice broke the silence like a match catching flame, she whispered, "Why me?"
"Because you don't look away. Even now."
They turned to each other, searching in the darkness. Her voice was barely audible, but the wind carried it. "Who were you proving yourself to?"
He shook his head. "You don't want to know that."
She bit her lower lip, not sure if she actually wanted to know. "Did they deserve it? Does the drink help?" She asked instead.
"Maybe."
"To?"
"Both."
She stared, wondering what he looked like. She wanted to touch him. Hold him. Soothe the ache, the guilt and confusion she knew he felt.
I should scream. Flinch. Run even. I don't want to. Maybe because I understand what it means to be so broken by someone that the only thing left to do...is break them back. Except he had the courage to. I don't.
She wanted that. She didn't touch him. He didn't reach out. But they sat there, side by side in the dark, like two ghosts who had once been alive.
"Have you ever imagined that it would be different?" She asked.
"Everyday."
"Me too. Sometimes, I imagine myself grabbing my father by the neck and..."
They talked. About her Father. Her mother. About his time in the juvenile facility. His hope that he would be able to take care of his Mami and Germana. About art. They talked and talked, Passing the drink between themselves as they did. Until...She felt it. The shift.
"Promise me something," his voice came, something about it different.
"What?"
"When daylight comes, you'll forget me. Like we said. Like it never happened."
Her chest tightened. "But what if I don't want to?"
"Wanting ruins everything, Red."
Remember me as the boy in the dark. Not the man I'm about to become
They sat there, silent. A breeze rustled the trees, wrapping them in a tranquil that was as comforting as it was scary. They left before dawn. Not together. Not far apart either. Neither turned back. Neither spoke another word.
We never even saw each other's face.
You already know who I am. You just can't see it yet.