Page 55 of The Woods

Polly opened her eyes to find his face looming directly above hers. It had gone from angelic to demonic, full of dark hollows, and his hair standing up like horns on his head. She squeezed her eyes shut. I’m too high, she thought.

“Should I stop?” he asked, and again she wondered if he was reading her mind or if she was saying things out loud.

“No,” she answered, relieved when she heard the word outside of herself. Keeping her eyes shut, she gently guided his hand down between her legs, showing him exactly what she wanted. Within seconds, warmth bloomed there and spread through her body, and she began to relax.

Gray took this as a sign to go further and slid on top of her. His body was much lighter than she’d imagined, but his earthy scent was suddenly so strong it almost choked her. She was afraid to open her eyes in case he still looked like a demon, so instead kept them shut and imagined his face, the handsome one.

She felt him enter her. She heard a quiet murmuring above her but she kept her eyes closed.

Gray was gentle, but with each thrust she felt as though she were being pushed down into the earth, as though she was sinking away from him. She took her hands from his back and stretched them out at her sides, palms-down, hoping to stop the sensation. The murmuring became louder, became chanting, and his movements matched its rhythm.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered.

Gray didn’t reply, so she opened her eyes. His head was lifted high, as though looking up at something, exposing the pale skin of his throat. His Adam’s apple was moving, and she wondered if he was the one chanting, though the echo made it sound like many voices at once. He began to thrust deeper and faster, but all she felt was the sinking sensation. She dug her nails into the dirt floor to keep her body in place, so that he didn’t push her into the earth. So that she wouldn’t be swallowed whole by the ground.

“Gray?” she whispered, wanting him to look at her, to give her something to focus on other than the sinking feeling and the overwhelming scent of earth.

He let out a low groan, then his whole body shuddered and he collapsed on top of her. His head dropped like a dead weight beside her own, his face obscured by her hair. She glanced up, searching for what he’d been looking at.

Only then did she see them.

A cluster of figures standing in a semicircle. Each one wore a dark cloak obscuring their face. She screamed and began pushing Gray off her. His head shot up, but he kept her there on the ground, pinned. Trapped.

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re in here. Watching!”

“Who’s watching?” His question stopped Polly cold. She looked back to where she’d seen the figures a moment before. There was nobody there, only the shadows made by the light of the fire, skittering across the walls of the cave. “Polly, nobody’s there.”

“I’m too high,” she whimpered, the fight leaving her body, her limbs heavy again.

Gray slid off her but kept one arm across her chest. “Just close your eyes. I’ll take care of you.”

Polly did what he said, relaxing into his arms and closing her eyes, hoping that when she opened them again the world would make sense.

When Polly finally had opened her eyes, it was not the cave she’d found herself in but her bedroom, where she lay tucked under the covers, the alarm clock on the bedside table reading 4:43 a.m. She didn’t have time to recall how she’d gotten back there because a tidal wave of nausea was rolling through her, and she had only seconds to get to the bathroom. Heaving the toilet seat up, she unleashed a violent stream of vomit into the bowl. It tasted like dirt, smelled like rotting pond water, and colored the water dark brown. Polly stared down at the mess in the toilet.

“What the fuck?” she whispered.

She flushed it all away and then got up and brushed her teeth to get rid of the taste of dirt and grit. Bending over, she drank straight from the tap. Only after satiating her incredible thirst did she splash water on her face and come up for a look in the mirror. Dark circles ringed her eyes and her skin was pale and streaked with dirt. Her lips were chapped and cracked, and her hair was a nest of tangles with leaves and twigs stuck in it.

She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand and got in. After pulling all the bits and pieces out of her hair, she shampooed it, then scrubbed her entire body with soap. Between her legs she was bruised and sore. Rinsing off, she was hit with another wave of nausea so unexpected all she could do was bend over and puke onto the floor of the shower. With her bare foot she stamped the brown, chunky vomit down the drain.

Wrapping herself in a towel, she’d shuffled back to bed, her hair dripping wet, her stomach churning. Burrowing under the covers, she lay on her side, as still as could be to combat the queasiness, trying to piece together her night in the woods. She had no recollection of walking home or climbing through her window or putting herself to bed. And the rest of the night was just fragments with no reason or linearity: hearing her sister’s voice in the cave, feeling Gray move inside of her, sinking deeper into the ground, and looking up to see shadowy figures watching.

At the last memory, she’d shot up in bed, her heart pounding.

Alice

When she opens her eyes, it’s just starting to get dark outside. She’d slept through the entire afternoon. Somehow, despite the horrific things she saw in the woods, or thinks she saw, she slept a deep and dreamless sleep. Her entire body aches, but it could be worse; she could have broken bones. She lies there staring out the window. A bruised October dusk is upon her and the trees of the forest have become black silhouettes, their branches waving slowly in the autumn wind.

What happened in there, she asks herself, knowing she has no answer. In the safety of her bed after hours of sleep, it feels like a bad dream. Geoff and her mother are both alive and well, but she also knows what she saw, what she felt. The chill of the pale flesh of those bodies, the tangle of white hair through her fingers, the stench of damp earth and rotting leaves. Can hallucinations be that real? she wonders. The smell of onions cooking reaches her, and a pang of guilt hoofs her in the stomach. She’s been in bed all day, has barely seen her kids or done anything for anyone, and now someone else is cooking dinner.

Throwing off the covers, she slowly eases out of bed and makes her way to the kitchen. Geoff is the only one in there, standing at the stove, minding two pots. She likes to think her family can get along without her, even if they act like they can’t, so she has mixed feelings when they prove that they can. It’s happening more often now that Geoff has finally started pitching in.

“Hey,” Geoff says softly, as though he’s afraid to break her. “How are you doing?” He leaves the stove to come over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and gently massaging them.

She nods. “I’m okay. Just feeling a bit sore.” She forces a little laugh. “And like maybe I’m losing my mind.”