I can feel the source of it, snug around my neck. I’m helpless to fight the onslaught. My head flails about on the ground, throwing hair into my face. A high-pitched squeal sounds in my ears and I desperately hope that pathetic sound is not me.
My eyes roll up and all goes black.
Chapter Two
(Present day - October 2013)
I wake with a gasp and bolt upright.
Water. I need water!
As my groggy brain starts to recognize my surroundings, I feel sick. I can’t stop the reflex. I turn to my side and hurl. I vomit until the full contents of my stomach are spewed up. It’s not enough. My guts keep contracting, making me dry-heave again, and again, and again.
Bile burns my throat. Tears stream down my face. My back is covered in sweat. I feel so weak. So pathetic. I gag on the putrid smell and endure another attack. It feels like my stomach is turning itself inside out. My insides hurt.
When the final convulsion subsides, and I’m sure the worst is over, I collapse onto my side. I bring my knees up and curl into a little ball, holding my arms tight over my chest. It’s the most protective position I know.
The stink of my vomit is all around me. It’s so bad I almost start puking again. I roll to the other side to get away.
I’m shocked when I see the marble pillar inches from my nose. I was so far away when I blacked out…
That means somebody came in here and moved me.
Even more revolting than the stench is the thought of the author of that letter laying his hands on me. I start to cry. What else did he do to me while I was unconscious?
My blouse is a wet mess of sweat. My cheeks are stained with tears. I can’t get away from the smell. Breathing through my mouth is no better. It brings attention to the taste of vomit on my tongue.
It’s a wonder I haven’t pissed myself yet.
Cope. I can’t cope. I can’t deal with this.
You can, a strong voice tells me. You’ve done it before. Remember?
I close my eyes and drift away to a place where the pain isn’t so bad…
Chapter Three
(Eleven years ago – 2002)
It’s summer. I’m twelve. Mom and her boyfriend are off at the lake house. I’m exploring the woods nearby. Out here, I can be anybody.
I pretend I’m a famous explorer, discovering a new land for the first time. The trees over there bear exotic fruit that are blue like the sky and taste like caramel. The shrubs across the field are actually a mother fox’s den. She has five pups to care for from her last litter. They’re always hungry, so she lives close by to feed them the fruit.
I start climbing a small crest, scrambling over rocks to get to the top. The valley on the other side is going to be blooming with beautiful flowers. I just know it. I reach the peak…
And am caught by surprise at the strange stone structure in the distance.
I drop the branch I’ve been using as a walking stick and rush over. Stumbling upon something real like this is a thrill unimagined!
My little feet carry me forward quickly, sandals slapping against the ground. I come to a stop right in front of the structure.
It’s big. And scary-looking. I don’t think anyone’s been here for years. The stones make up three solid walls, kind of like a house. The fourth has collapsed inward with a fallen tree. I don’t see a roof.
What kind of people would live in a place with no roof? Wouldn’t they get wet when it rains?
I walk around it once. There’s a heavy door on the other side. It’s rotten, and doesn’t budge when I give it a shove. That’s okay—I never expected getting in to be easy.
I look at the plastic toy watch I got at my best friend’s birthday party. It shows twelve minutes to six. Mom told me to be back by eight. I still have lots of time.
I stand and face the collapsed wall. My eyes run up the trunk of the tree. If I climb on, maybe I can drop in. Who knows what real treasure might be waiting for me?
I use the unearthed roots as footholds and climb on top of the trunk. It’s wide, and pretty easy to walk on—even in sandals. I always thought sandals were bad for exploring until I realized I could cross creeks without getting my socks wet.
“Cool,” I mutter when I see over the wall for the first time. The house has a dirt floor and an old table in one corner. There’s one chair with a missing leg. Along the opposite wall is a small mat about the size of a bed. I see the remains of a fireplace right where the tree fell.
I squat down and catch a branch. Unlike other girls, I’ve never been afraid of scraping my knee or getting a few bumps. Heights are no big challenge for me. My mom says I get that fearlessness from my dad. I guess it must be true, even though I don’t know him, because she always freaks out when I come home dirty and bruised after hours of playing with the neighborhood boys.
Mom asked me once why I didn’t play more with Carrie, her friend’s daughter.
“Boys do all the fun things,” I told her. “Girls my age are so boring.”
She laughed and tussled my hair.
I hop from my perch and swing down. My feet dangle high above the floor, but I’m not afraid. I let go. After the rush of free fall, I hit the ground with a thud.
A cloud of loose dirt rises where I land. Twigs and dry leaves crack under my feet as I take my first few steps. The place smells musty, kind of like the shelves of an old library.
I go to the doors and check to see why they wouldn’t open. I discover them blocked by a fallen branch. I press my shoulder against it and heave it aside. It’s dry and not very heavy. I try the door, and give a laugh of delight when it moves.
Happy that I won’t have to climb the tree again to get out, I set about investigating the place. I go to the table first. There’s an old sack underneath.
Treasure? I wonder.
I bend down and crawl under to take a look.
A flutter of wings startles me. I jump and hit my head.
Caw! Caw!
I look back at the black bird that’s landed on one of the walls.
Caw! Caw!
“Shoo!” I yell. My head hurts and I want to lash out. “Get out of here, you stupid bird!” I pick up a stone and chuck it at the raven.
The bird takes off before my rock rebounds off the wall.
Caw! Caw! Caw! it complains as it flies away.
“Good riddance,” I mutter. I turn my attention back to the sack. I retrieve it and untie the top.
The most vile stench ever greets me. It’s like rotting onions and week old garbage left in the sun. I gag and throw it away. A rotten black… something… rolls out. Maybe it used to be a potato. Or an apple? It’s crawling with tiny white worms.
“Disgusting!” I wipe my hand across my shorts. So much for treasure.
Disappointed, I get up. The old mat catches my eye.
I stop and look over. It’s not flat on the ground like I would expect. There’s a lumpy shape underneath.
Intrigued, I make my way to it. This time, I remember to shield my nose and turn a little to the side as I pick up one corner of the mat and fling it back.
A scream of blind terror erupts from my throat. Horror drowns out every thought in my mind.
There’s a skeleton there. A human skeleton, with wisps of hair still on top of its skull.
I stumble away. My heel catches a rock on the ground. I trip and fall, but when my back hits the earth, there comes a groan. The dirt shifts, and a splintering crack fills my ears.