Page 75 of The Woods

As soon as they get back, Polly leaves Ethan, Quinn, and Sierra to clean up and she gets in the shower. Looking down at the drain triggers the memory of the night she and Gray had sex. The sensations all come rushing back: sinking into the earth as he thrust inside of her; the strange chanting echoing through the cave; the taut, pale skin of his throat stretched above her; the low growl of his climax. What happened that night? The question is a deafening scream inside her, and her entire body begins to shake violently. She slides down the shower wall onto the tiled floor while water beats down on her back.

You’re in shock. Her sister’s voice comes through clearly. It’s the first time in two weeks that Polly has heard it. Did the pregnancy block out her sister’s voice? she wonders. Could that be a thing? Or maybe she’d been too obsessed with Gray to experience anything other than thoughts of him. Hearing her sister’s voice again is such a comfort to Polly that she starts to sob into her knees with relief. Losing that connection had been like her sister dying for a second time.

Get up, her sister’s voice commands. Polly listens. She crawls out of the shower, uses the wall to help her to stand up, and, still trembling, wraps herself in her bathrobe. Moving very slowly, she shoves her bloody jeans down to the bottom of her laundry hamper and is just lowering herself onto her bed when she hears her parents’ car pull into the driveway. At the same moment Quinn bursts into her room and shoves the folder at her.

“Sierra forgot this. Hide it and give it to her at work.” Then he shoots out of the room to greet their parents. Polly hopes he’ll be able to calm her Mom down before she comes to Polly’s room.

Flipping open the folder, Polly finds the photo of Gray sitting there right on top. Some part of her had hoped she’d been mistaken when she’d first looked at it. That the whole thing had been a misunderstanding caused by the ominous séance energy, the storm outside, the run-in with the shadowy figure, the searing pain in her gut, the sudden power outage. But now there is no doubt. Staring back at her from his high school photo is her Gray, with his mossy-green eyes; beautifully angled face; wild, dark curls; and smile like he’s just shared an inside joke.

The confirmation summons the smell of him—pine needles, damp earth, and cold forest air. It brings to her the feel of his fingers on her skin—light as a feather and as chilled as the bottom of a dark pond. He was real, she knows he was, and she can remember the solidity of his body, the pressure of him when he was on top of her. So, then what is he? Not a ghost. A boy brought back to life by the woods? Is that what happens in there? she wonders, still staring down at his photo, his scent as strong around her as if he were right there in the room. Like the popping of thread pulled too tight, Polly feels herself coming undone.

Because if Gray died in those woods like everyone thinks he did, and somehow came back to life, then maybe her dad and nana did too.

Quinn

His parents’ car pulls up outside and within seconds his mom charges through the front door. “Polly?” she calls out. She looks like a surrealist deer. The white dots of face paint have smeared into the brown, and the black of her nose has spread into a slash that reaches under her left eye.

“She’s in her room,” Quinn says. “She’s okay now, so don’t freak out.”

His mom, who barely seems to register him, drops her purse at the front door and rushes into his sister’s room. He follows close behind, ready to help Polly defend the séance if his mom makes a big deal about it.

Polly’s not sitting on her bed anymore, where Quinn saw her only minutes earlier when he ditched Sierra’s folder. She’s pacing in front of her bedroom window, sobbing, one hand clawing at the scar from her brain surgery.

Seeing their mom, Polly’s sobs intensify and she throws herself into her arms. His mom holds Polly tight, rubbing her back and making shushing sounds. She looks at Quinn searchingly but all he can do is shrug. He doesn’t want to launch into the whole story in front of Polly in case it makes things even worse.

“What the hell is going on?” his dad says, stepping into the room, looking like a slightly more put-together deer, but disheveled nonetheless. Polly starts to scream and his mom shoos him out of the room. As soon as he’s gone, Polly’s screams turn back to sobs. Quinn stands there helpless.

The events of the night run through Quinn’s mind—the fire poker falling over, the weird sounds on the recording, the knocks in his closet, the shadow thing Polly said she saw outside, the power going out, all that blood, his fear his sister was dying. He feels like he might start pulling his own hair out in a minute. He turns and heads for the kitchen, almost running into his nana, who’s just come into the house.

“How was your night?” she asks, oblivious. “I heard your parents’ car. Are they home from the party already?”

“You heard their car?” Quinn asks in disbelief. “But you didn’t hear Polly scream or us leave for the hospital because she looked like she was bleeding to death? And what about when the power went out?” He keeps going, his voice rising in pitch with each word: “You didn’t think to come check on us then?”

“Quinn,” his dad says, “that’s enough.” Quinn wonders where his dad came from; it’s like he materialized out of the shadows.

“My power didn’t go out,” his nana says with a shake of her head, looking honestly confused. “I didn’t hear any screams or cars leaving. If I had, of course I would have checked on you.” His nana puts a hand on her chest to show she is upset at the accusation of neglect.

“What the hell happened here tonight?” his mom says, charging into the room with the photos of the Gordon family. His dad slips in beside her and takes the folder from her without her noticing.

Quinn can tell from his mom’s expression that she blames him for whatever’s wrong with his sister. “The séance wasn’t my idea!”

“Then whose was it exactly? You’re the one obsessed with the murders.”

His mom coming down hard on him is just about the last thing he can take. His chest feels like it’s going to explode, and his eyes burn with tears. “Holy fuck, Mom!” he shouts, because it’s the only way to release the pressure. “Why do you always blame me for everything? It was Polly’s weird-ass work friends who came over and did it. I wasn’t even supposed to be here, but Polly made me stay to be the fourth person. Then a whole bunch of weird shit happened, and Polly started bleeding, and we rushed her to the hospital. I thought she was going to—”

Tears spill over, and he’s mortified but can’t stop them. His mom reaches out and pulls him in for a hug and he lets her. For the first time all night he feels safe, even though he hates her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, rubbing his back to calm him. She smells like wine and face paint and cold night air. “I jumped to conclusions and shouldn’t have blamed you. It sounds like an awful night, but you did the right thing calling me. I’ll make sure she’s okay. I’ll take care of her now.”

He lets her soothe him for a few more seconds before stepping free from the embrace and wiping away the evidence of his tears. “What do you think is wrong with her?” he asks. “She wasn’t like that at the hospital, or on the way home.”

“I’m not sure, but I think she’ll tell us when she’s ready. It could be her PTSD. Triggered from being at the hospital but with a delayed reaction. Hard to say.” She rubs his arm. “I’m going to give her a sedative that should help calm her down and get her to sleep. I’m sure in the morning she’ll be fine.” She starts in the direction of Polly’s room. “You should get to bed,” she calls over her shoulder. “It’s a school night.”

“Will someone please tell me what’s happening?” his nana demands.

Quinn’s dad steps forward and puts an arm across his nana’s shoulders, guiding her toward the back door. “Let’s step outside, Beverley. Quinn doesn’t need to rehash the whole night again.”

Quinn thinks it’s weird that they’re going out into the dark to talk, but he’s glad his dad is going to handle his nana. He doesn’t have the energy for her. He hopes his dad gives her shit for missing it all. She was probably drinking martinis and petting her stupid cats all night. And why didn’t she lose power too? When they first moved in, he heard his dad telling his mom that the electrical panel in the hall closet was for the house and outbuildings as well. Wouldn’t that mean if one building lost power, they all would?