Chapter 2: A Movement of Branches - Sara

Chapter 2: A Movement of Branches
Sara

I know I told my sister to never go into the woods alone. I should probably listen to my own advice, but I want to see her. The girl with the dark hair and the wild eyes. I saw something in her that made me question everything I thought I knew about the forest. How could she go unnoticed for so long? She's got to be at least my sisters age, and by the looks of her she's never lived indoors. Or, at least not recently. Could that really mean that a little girl has been living in the woods behind my house for seven years? How did she survive? What does she eat? How does she stay warm? All these questions floating in my brain, they are making it impossible to think about anything else. I'm sitting at my desk, trying to do homework but instead I'm staring out my window at the tree tops, thinking about feral girls and what it would be like to always be outside. It's just starting to get warm and all I want to do is go out there. To learn everything I can from her, even though it's ten o'clock at night and forests are dangerous in the dark. But honestly at this point I don't really care what's dangerous and what's safe. I look back at my desk, my homework stares up at me. Entirely blank. Not a single answer has been penciled in, let alone has my brain even thought about them. A wave of anxiety flows over me and suddenly it's all I can do to stay in my chair. I can't handle this right now. All these words on all these pages, I'm out the door with my shoes on before I even have time to think about what I'm doing.

The woods have always been a place of comfort to me. They border my house like this great unknown place, all for me. Somewhere no one can bother me with questions about school and what college I'm going to go to and why don't I have a boyfriend.

Because shut up, that's why. In the woods, it's quiet. All you can hear is the occasional bird, the river, and beyond that, the ocean. Peace. That's what I find here. I start running my normal path, just waiting for the sweet nothingness to fill my brain, but instead, more questions and words hit me. Why are you here? You should be at home, doing your homework. You're going to fail. You're not good enough. You have to live up to the expectations and you can't do that while you're running away from everything. I run harder. I don't know when it started but all of a sudden I'm blinded by tears, I wipe them away but they keep coming. A waterfall always on the brim, just waiting for something to release it. My vision blurs even more and my trusty blue sneakers get caught up in a tangle of weeds, pretty soon I'm being thrown onto the ground, my body ground up and smashed against the dirt. I feel the skin on my cheek pop under pressure, I feel the heat of road rash on my palms and my knee is bleeding through my pants. I roll over and look up at the sky. It's a full moon and the stars are brilliant this far outside of town. The light they emit is this strange, ethereal glow. Almost like everything is radiating light. “What the hell am I doing.” I say to nothing in particular. I almost wish I could get an answer. I examine my palms, pulling bits of leaves and dirt out of them and just laying there, on the ground in this big place full of trees and nature. Maybe I can just be absorbed in to the earth, then I could lay here forever. A few minutes go by and I start thinking about how it's probably going to get cold very quickly. And yet, I continue to lie on the cold hard ground, absorbing as much calm from my surroundings as I possibly can. After a few minutes, I roll over and sit up, shaking my head to clear the fog that had settled in my brain. Looking around, I realize I've been laying in this tiny clearing, a small enclosure bordered by trees and wilderness. A nice spot for a picnic, or a murder. Why am I thinking about that. That is not something you want to think in the dark when your out in the middle of no where. I look around, as if searching for a crazed lunatic and instead I just find trees doing what trees do. I stand up and am about to start running back when something catches my eye. I'm not entirely sure what it was, but there was definitely something. A movement of branches, a whisper of hair, blue eyes peering out of the darkness. I squint in the pale moonlight, trying to find whatever it was that caught my attention. There. On the edge of clearing, I see the rustle of a bush. “Hello?” I whisper, I can hear the fright piercing my voice, it makes me feel small. I hate it. I wait silently, afraid to move, to make a sound. After what feels like an eternity, I see a hand. It's small and pale and it's coming from the trees. After the hand, an arm, then a body, a face. She stands before me, wearing a stained white tee-shirt two sizes too big and tiny little kid shorts. I can't help but think she looks fairly normal, this girl who lives in the woods. Her hair is as matted as ever and her face is fierce, covered in dirt and scratches. She looks like she rolled around in a thorn bush and then put someone else's clothes on. After a second I realize I've just been standing here, staring at this nature child for an awkwardly long amount of time. “Um, hi.” I say, “My name is Sara, I'm 16 and I live in the house on top of the hill. What's your name?” A perpetuating silence. I'm staring into the bluest eyes I've ever seen, but they're not blue like mine and Elle's eyes. Ours are like thin layers of ice, hers are like the deepest part of the ocean, it's the color you look at and feel like your drowning in them and it's like they are talking to me. They tell me a story of fear and curiosity, I know she wants to respond but it's like she's to afraid of me to open her mouth. “It's okay, you don't need to be scared.” I say, taking a small step forward. Her big eyes dart down to my feet and squint, they look almost black. As soon as she sees the movement she vanishes into the dark forest and I'm left standing in a small clearing, all alone. My brain is churning with so many unanswered questions, I can't think straight anymore. I used to be so focused, clean cut, prepared. Now, I'm just...soft. I make my way back to the house with the threat of the unknown hanging over my head.

The walk home feels like a journey all of itself. My knee is throbbing, it hurts to grab anything and I can feel dried blood and dirt caked on my face. I throw open the glass back door, wincing as it knocks against the doorstop. Luckily no one is in the living room otherwise I would have to go over the whole thing of why I'm all bloody and dirty when all I really want to do is take a shower and not think about the fact that other people exist. I climb up the treacherous path that is my staircase, reaching the landing and going straight for the bathroom. I silently close the door, I don't need to wake any one up right now. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my cheek has a huge cut on it that was once welling with blood. Now it's just bruised and dirty. I strip my clothes and get in the shower, hoping the steam will clear my head. I hear my phone vibrating on the cold tile floor but could really care less. No offense caller, but it's the middle of the night...wait, the only person that would call me in the middle of the night would be Charlie. I yank the handles to the shower off and practically trip out of the shower on the stupidly extravagant curtain that my mother insisted on buying, she said it was elegant and would make us feel like royalty, I said it was a waste of money and no one is going to be in our upstairs bathroom but us. I'm rummaging through my dirty clothes that are rumpled on the floor, “Come one, please don't hang up, please don't hang up. God where the hell is the phone at...” I say under my breathe, I tip my jeans upside down and the phone comes tumbling out. It cascades out of the back pocket and looks almost peaceful, flying through mid air like that. It's kind of like seeing a dog on a skateboard, you know it should probably not be happening but it's just sort of mesmerizing. The phone lands face down with a deadly crunch and I know it's bad before I flip it over. Little tiny smartphone glass slivers rip through my finger as I turn it over, “Ahh, god...” I look at my thumb, little droplets of blood are sprouting out of the surface. I stick it in my mouth, and examine the phone further. It still works but the screen is shattered. Great. I very carefully unlock the phone and check who called.

CHARLIE: 3 Missed Calls

“S**t...”, I quickly dial her number, avoiding further injury with the destroyed screen debacle, and wait for her to pick up.

“Sara, what the hell, why didn't you answer your phone? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” She answers almost immediately after the first ring. Like she's been waiting for me to call her back, “I'm sorry, I was in the shower, I didn't notice...What's going on? Are you okay?” She sighs a great sigh, like a president making the decision to go to war, “Yeah, I just....” she pauses, “Can I come get you? I feel like it will be easier to explain this in person.” I look up at the clock hanging on the bathroom wall, 11:37, it's pretty late and I should probably go to bed but, it's not a school night so...”I'll be waiting at the front door.”

Five minutes later I see the familiar glow of headlights coming up the drive, I silently open and close the heavy front door and watch as she pulls her indestructible Oldsmobile up to the house. My wet hair flops against my back like a dead fish as I run over to the passenger door. “So, what's going on?” I ask, climbing into the gargantuan seats. She navigates the boat-car back down Spruce Street and ignores my question, instead she says, “I'm thinking doughnuts.” She looks over at me with her eyes alive and filled with wonder. The curiosity starts roaring through my veins as we pick up speed and turn onto the main drag of this little town that we live in. “Any hints at all?” I look over at her and raise my eyebrows, attempting to give her a look that says 'Tell me or I'll kill you' but I'm pretty sure it just looks like I'm oddly surprised. She glances over at me and laughs, her brown eyes crinkle while street lights flicker behind her head, casting a beautiful halo of light around her curly hair. “I'm trying to make a very serious face over here and you're ruining it with your crazy person laughter!” We giggle and screech together like hyenas, driving down Main Street and feeling boundless.

The Jelly Jar sits forlornly sandwiched between a gas station and a run down supermarket that no one goes to anymore. Despite it's location, The Jelly Jar does surprisingly well. Hoards of people, drunk and not drunk, flock here at all hours of the day and night for a coffee and a doughnut. It may be dirty and grimy, with creepy old ladies pushing coffee on the children, but it's something that is necessary for Blackwick to be Blackwick. If it was gone, it would be like New York without the Statue of Liberty. It just wouldn't make sense. Charlie parks the car and we both get out, she reaches in the back seat and grabs a manilla folder with papers escaping on all sides. She finishes shoving everything back into the folder, her hands making quick work of hiding whatever is inside. I raise my eyebrows but stay silent, whatever it is it's important enough that we came all the way here. So instead of asking questions, I just smile at her as we make our way over to the doors. There are a few kids from school loitering outside but we ignore them, and they ignore us. When Charlie and I are together it's like we're invincible. We have a shield. No one messes with us. Because no one can touch us. The air conditioner hits me like a bucket of ice water as soon as we pull open the double doors. It blows my wet hair off my face and sends shivers down my spine. I hug my arms around my self as we weave our way through the dusty booth's and find a seat at a rickety old table made of the darkest wood I've ever seen, situated in a far corner of the shop. The fluorescent lights bounce off of the white linoleum floors, giving the whole place an unsightly pallor, like we've all died and are looking for the light at the end of the tunnel but we've actually just been standing on top of it all this time. There's a junky old jukebox in the corner of the store, it's covered in cobwebs and doesn't actually work any more. I guess the owners keep it here for charm but it just kind of creeps me out. It feels like I've time traveled to the future and this is all we left behind. A s**t restaurant with a broken jukebox. An elderly waitress hobbles over to our table, she reeks of cigarettes and coffee and has a voice like glass rubbing against asphalt.

“What can I get 'cha?” She says, keeping her eyes focused on her little pad of paper, fingers poised, ready for take off. “Uh, I'll just get a coffee, please.” I say, holding myself closer, attempting to rid the goose bumps off of my bare arms. “I'll have an old-fashioned doughnut and a coffee as well, thank you.” Charlie orders with the biggest smile, the old waitress doesn't seem to care. She just walks off without saying anything to us, I don't think she even wrote our order down. “Alright, enough of the funny business. What is this all about?” I ask her, folding my arms across the table and giving her the sternest look I can muster. Charlie looks up at me with that fire in her eyes, she bites her lips like she's trying to eat the smile that’s spreading across her face. “Okay, okay. I did a little research on what you were telling me, you know, about the girl you saw. There's an open case of this girl, Allison Gentry, she's from Portland and she disappeared in the forest thirteen years ago when she and her parents were camping. But, here’s the kicker, guess which forest it was?” She asks, but before I can even open my mouth to answer she says, “Blackwick Forest, specifically near the river that comes down from Portland, you know, the one behind your house! And I know what your going to say, your going to say 'But the girl I saw was a little kid' well get this, girls have been going missing every ten years for as long as I could find. How's that for creepy.” She stares at me with those big, brown eyes that look like melted chocolate and is giving me this look like she's waiting for me to gasp in surprise. She flips the folder open and slides it in front of me, there are dozens of pages printed out from websites all of them are about girls going missing. Our coffee and doughnut arrives as well as the bill. Charlie cries out a “Thank you!” to the uninterested waitress and starts spreading all the papers out on the table. I wrap my thin fingers around the warm mug, attempting to suck the heat out of the coffee, to let it soak into my bones. I take a sip. “I think the cops haven't really caught on because all the girls have disappeared in not creepy, serial killer ways. Like Allison, lost in the woods, they searched but couldn't find her. It's distressing but not really something you need to keep investigating after so long of her being gone.” Charlie says as she looks up at me, her eyes searching mine as she says,“I'm thinking that maybe the kid you saw is the most recent girl to go missing, and if she's about Elle's age, that means there is going to be another missing girl...soon.”