Warning: Graphic Nature and Language - PG 13 at best, probably R.

I am subtly aware that I am lying on the floor and the sun is fully up, but I just want to lie here. There’s a chill dampness gnawing at me, I try to ignore it. There’s an ache in my shoulder and pounding in my head, they compel me to roll onto my back. There’s a window with old, worn out blinds letting in light, it makes me clench my eyes. I take a deep breath and end up swallowing hard to keep from vomiting. I let out the breath slowly, so slowly, afraid what my stomach might let out with it. I don’t want to open my eyes, so I pull the blanket up over my head. At least I have a blanket.

Where am I? What happened last night? I seem to be okay, outside of feeling like garbage left in the summer sun for a week. Though, I think I might actually smell worse than that would.

Why am I wet? I don’t have any pants on, only damp underwear. Where the hell are my pants? Did I piss myself?

Despite my aches and desire to just lay here till I feel better, I start to sit up. My right shoulder is sore and stiff, but I use my right hand to shield my eyes; I need the left to hold myself up. I peek through my hand to see it’s a small room with wood paneling all around, completely empty, save my wretched soul lying on its floor. The carpet I’m sleeping on must be 50 years old, some worn out green color.

Damn it, I have no idea where I am!

I try to recall the previous night, but there is nothing there. I remember going out to the bar to celebrate my buddy’s promotion in the evening, but nothing after that.

He must be here somewhere; after all, someone covered me up and took off my pants. God, I hope it was him.

I lurch forward until I’m on all fours and crawl to the door. Standing seems like it could be complicated right now. It’s only five feet away, but I have to pause before I get there and try not to puke. Determining where the bathroom is, seems like a great idea at this point.

I reach for an old brass knob and pull the wood panel door open.

“Rick, you here?” I call to the hallway that I find. There is no answer, no sound.

Fortunately, I do see the bathroom down the hall to the right, the sink just visible in the doorway. There’s a brown sectional out of the hallway and maybe a bedroom down at the other end of it, things at least look a little cleaner out here.

I use the doorknob to get to my feet and stagger down to the bathroom. This extra moving makes me even more nauseous, but I manage to hold my puke back a few seconds till I reach the toilet. Thankfully, the seat is up. Once I’m done, mainly dry heaving, I sit on the edge of the tub.

Before I can decide if it is safe to leave the close proximity of the toilet, I hear tires rolling over dirt, coming closer. At this point, I am not too concerned about anything. I assume it’s Rick or someone who has been taking care of me. They could have done anything they wanted to me by now.

I hear one car door open and shut. Despite being unafraid, I am nervously alert, my brain working overtime to figure out what it missed and what the current situation is. It isn’t the first time I’ve woken up with a hangover and a brief lapse in memory, but never somewhere I didn’t recognize before.

A door opens and shuts to this... place. I think it must be a trailer. I hear things being set down on what I assume is the counter.

“Rick, is that you?” I call out.

“Yeah. You’re awake, finally?” Rick’s familiar voice calls down the hall.

I manage to get up and walk down the hall to the couch.

“Hey, buddy! You doin’ alright?” Rick says when he sees me. The kitchen was open to the living area, separated only by a counter. “I ran to get us some food. It got to be after noon, and I was starving. Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up.”

“That’s alright,” I said as I sat down. “Yeah, I kinda feel like shit, but… What the hell happened last night, anyhow? I don’t remember anything.”

“Yeah... You were in rough shape last night. Sorry about throwing you on the floor in there, but you were puking all over yourself. You don’t remember anything at all?” Rick asks, he swallows hard.

“No, nothing after we got to the bar, basically. I kinda remember ordering our first round, but that’s it.”

“Shit…” He mumbles, shaking his head.

“What? What happened? And where are we?” I can feel my nausea returning.

“I know this is going to be hard to hear, but you have to stay calm.”

“Stay calm? Shit, I’m always calm. What the hell happened?” I half yelled at him, not having the energy for the full effort.

“You got super drunk last night. We started doing shots, and you just wanted to keep going, another one and another one.”

“No shit, I gather that from the hangover. Get to the point. What happened?” I asked.

“Alright,” Rick said, pausing to rub his face. “You remember we were going out to celebrate my promotion?”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding and feeling frustrated.

“I didn’t tell you right away, but I didn’t get promoted. I got fired. That’s when you decided we should get drunk. Then, of all things, my boss shows up. I should never have pointed her out. When you saw her, you got pissed off. We were already wasted, and you went to confront her. I tried to stop you, but you talked to her, and she said some things that made you furious. I apologized and got you away, back to the bar.”

“Okay, so your boss is a bitch. What the hell did you get fired for?”

Rick acted like he had something stuck in his throat. He stuttered and stammered before finally saying, “I thought I was doin’ good, but I had missed some work. I guess she was tired of it.”

“What? Christ, Rick! I thought you were getting your shit together. So, what else happened? And, where are we? And, why are we someplace random?” My head was still pounding and the fact that Rick wouldn’t just get to the point was making it worse.

“Alright, relax. You seemed to calm down after we went back to the bar, I thought you were going to the restroom. I look over toward the restrooms a few seconds later, and you’ve got her pinned up against the wall with both hands around her neck.”

“No, I wouldn’t do that. I don’t remember any of that. Why would I grab her?”

“I don’t know what you were thinking. I ran over, it was like no one else saw you, by the time I got there and got you to let go, she was limp. Someone noticed finally when she went to the ground. I wasn’t sure if she was going to be okay, but I knew we needed to get out of there. I grabbed you under the arms and started pulling you out. A woman screamed about stopping us, but, in the confusion, I got you to run with me until we were clear.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This couldn’t be happening. I wouldn’t do that. I sat down on the couch and stared at the wall across from me.

Rick continued, “I took you back to my place. You were starting to black out. I checked the police radio on the computer to see what happened to her. I couldn’t believe it, but you killed her.”

I sat up and glared at him. “No! Stop it, Rick. Stop fucking with me. This is bullshit. Where are we?”

“This is no joke, I’m telling you the truth. Just listen for a second.”

I put my face in my hands and tried to think. I started to dry heave a few times, but there was nothing in there anyhow. I sat there motionless, listening.

“I knew you were in trouble, and I was going to be in trouble for helping you. I decided, if we wanted any chance to continue our lives, we had to get out of the country. I packed what I could, got you in the car, and took off. I don’t think anyone else at the bar really knew who we were. The bartender knew our first names, but all the police seemed to have on us was our description. There was an APB out, so I avoided highways till we got to the border. You were completely blacked out, so I had to slip the guard a hundred not to wake you up, prick wouldn’t take a twenty. He knew there was no waking you up.”

“So we’re outlaws,” I said mockingly. “Just two escaped murderers on the run. No big deal. And, we’re somewhere in Mexico?”

“Don’t be a dick,” Rick said. “I risked everything to get you down here. I could face life in prison for something like this.”

We went back and forth like this for at least another hour, sorting out the details of the night. It ended with us in a hunting shack in the shadow of some mountains in Mexico. A friend of Rick’s Dad owned it apparently.

I was in shock. This was entirely unbelievable to me. I had never really hurt anyone, let alone a woman. It disturbed me that I couldn’t remember any of it, even what she looked like. Could I have killed someone? I didn’t even remember getting drunk. How could this be?

Rick went about getting something to eat. Despite my stomach’s emptiness, I had no appetite.

I lied on the couch, wishing I would just die. Rick sat on the other side. There was satellite TV, so he was flipping between channels looking for any news he could find about us.

Eventually, my head started to clear a little and thoughts of my normal life returned. “I need to call my girlfriend and let her know I’m okay. I was supposed to meet her for brunch today.”

“I had to ditch our phones so they couldn’t track us,” Rick said.

“I could still call her, there has to be a phone here.”

“No, there’s not. And if you try to contact anyone close to us, they’re going to find us. I put my ass on the line for you here, don’t ruin it already. We were lucky to get out of the country at all.”

We sat around the rest of the day. I ate and drank eventually, trying to get my body to recover. Rick tried to talk to me a few times, but I didn’t want to hear him. I fell asleep before dark.

I woke in the middle of the night with thoughts swirling, I was panicked. I couldn’t have killed someone, I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I had bits and pieces of memory now, I could kind of remember being in the car and feeling like crap. I fought with my memories for a while but eventually fell back asleep.

The next day, I started realizing I didn’t feel like I had a regular hangover. I felt like my mind was hazy still. My thoughts should be clear by now, even if my body felt like crap. What the hell had really happened?

Rick went to the store again, he said the closest place was about a half hour away. We were literally in the middle of nowhere.

I still felt like I was in a haze, but things were starting to come together. The thing about Rick was, he had always been a little unstable. He had bouts of severe depression and lost job after job for not showing up. I had thought he was getting better with some new meds, but if he had missed work and gotten fired again, maybe he was struggling. Perhaps this was something he had done to get away. He had always wanted to just run away and forget his responsibilities. Maybe nothing happened, maybe Rick killed someone. Either way, I was feeling pretty sure this was Rick’s fault. He had pulled me in, not saved me.

I decided I was going to have to confront Rick. If he couldn’t show me some piece of news or evidence, then I was headed back to civilization. We had been friends since childhood, but I wasn’t giving up my life for him.

I looked around the kitchen while he was gone and found what I was looking for, the cutlery. I figured if this was a hunting shack, there had to be some decent knives around; I was right. A pointed ten-inch blade should be sufficient to show him I mean business.

I paced the kitchen for a while, handling the knife, thinking about how this could go. I didn’t want to hurt Rick, I just wanted to get out of here. I decided to sit on the couch and stuff the knife between the cushions; hidden but handy if I needed it.

Shortly, I heard Rick’s SUV pulling in. This was it, I was going to try to be subtle and get him to admit to dragging me into this. But, if things go wrong. I reached down and felt the handle of the knife. My hair was standing on end, I had to calm down.

Rick came in and gave me a thin smile. “Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah... Yeah, I actually think my head is starting to clear,” I say.

“Good. I’m glad. We need to get some things figured out,” he said with his back to me, putting a bag of chips in the cupboard.

“Rick?”

“Yeah,” he stopped and focused on me from across the counter.

“You lied to me about getting fired and got me to come with you to the bar.”

“Uhh, yeah. Sorry about that. I just wanted to get out and relax.”

“But we didn’t relax. We apparently got shitface drunk. So drunk that I blacked out and have been hungover for like two days?”

“Yeah, you were tossing those shots back one after another.”

“You were drinking with me, though?”

“Sure, we were both drinking. I was doing some shots.”

“Rick, there is no way I would be doing shots without making you go shot for shot with me. Come on, man, this doesn’t even feel like a hangover. What aren’t you telling me?”

Rick’s face went blank, he hesitated and stammered. “I… I didn’t know what to do. You were so belligerent. You were going to get us arrested before we got out of town, let alone the country.”

“So you drugged me, didn’t you? What the hell did you give me?”

“Damn it. This isn’t the way it seems, I swear. I did give you a shot of my anxiety medication, but I didn’t think it was going to have such an effect on you. It was supposed to make you more pliant not blackout, but you’re not supposed to take it with alcohol.”

I knew it. He drugged me and brought me down here with him to run away from his shitty life. “No one got killed, did they?” I ask.

He responded quickly this time. “I swear, I may have left out some details, but you killed her. I did this to protect us, to protect you.”

“So, you kidnapped me?”

“No, I was just trying to help you.”

“Right, I’m a murderer, and you’re a kidnapper, slash accessory to murder. You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s not even believable. I’m going back.” I stood up from the couch.

It isn’t possible, there is no way I killed anyone. He must have drugged me while we were at the bar, that’s why I can’t remember being there hardly.

“You can’t,” he implored. “Dammit, you’re acting just like last night.”

“Rick, I’m taking your car and going home.”

“You’re going to get caught and put in jail for the rest of your life. They’ll know I’m down here and I’ll never make it. I can’t let you do this.”

“No, I’m leaving. You’ve lied to me more than once already. I’m sorry, buddy, but I can’t trust you at this point. You can either come with me or stay here, but I’m going.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you, but we can’t go back. You killed her.”

“I’m not a killer, stop telling me that. I didn’t do that. I wouldn’t do that. I’m leaving, I’m going home to find out the truth.”

“I can’t let you do that,” he said through gritted teeth.

“How are you going to stop me?” I asked, knowing the knife was still hidden within reach.

“The same way I got you here,” he said as he pulled out a needle and syringe from his pants pocket.

“I knew it,” I bent down, reaching into the couch cushions.

Rick lunged at me with the syringe as I was turned, “You killed her,” he spewed as he closed.

I felt a sharp pain in my right shoulder.

Rick didn’t see the knife coming. I plunged the blade deep in his stomach. It went in smoothly, as if I had stabbed a ripe watermelon.

Just as the shock of stabbing my best friend was hitting me, I felt the burn in my shoulder.

Rick fell back and down to the floor, he was moaning, screaming, yelling something at me, but I was oblivious.

I looked at my shoulder. Rick had pushed the plunger on the needle before falling down. I stared at it, still stuck in my shoulder. I pulled the needle out.

I looked at Rick on the floor, flat on his back and holding his stomach.

Rage began to roll through me. How could he do this to me? How could he try to steal my life? For a moment, I hated my best friend.

I jumped on him, knife still in hand. “I’m not a killer! I’m not a killer! Not a killer!” I scream at him as I stab him, over, and over, and over again.

Rick was motionless, blood pouring from his chest and stomach.

As my rage subsided, I lie back, and grief filled the void that it left. I dropped the knife and stared at the ceiling. What have I done? Tears well in my eyes. I feel light-headed. Then, numbness, as darkness overwhelms me.

I am subtly aware that I am lying on the floor and the sun is fully up, but I just want to lie here. There’s a chill dampness gnawing at me, I try to ignore it. There’s an ache in my shoulder and pounding in my head, they compel me to roll onto my back. There’s a window with old, worn out blinds letting in light, it makes me clench my eyes. I take a deep breath and end up swallowing hard to keep from vomiting. I let out the breath slowly, so slowly, afraid what my stomach might let out with it. I don’t want to open my eyes, but I can hear sirens in the distance, coming closer. Sirens? How could there be sirens?

“They know it was him, they just didn’t know he was yours. I can’t believe you got him in there, I nearly turned white when I saw him. I tried to distance myself as much as possible but then, next thing I know, the Crown Prince is dead, and I’m in custody,” I heard the journalist say as I stood guard outside the tent in the desert sun.

“An unfortunate coincidence certainly. I appreciate you staying tight-lipped through that,” replied the Lieutenant.

“Yeah, I’ve been through worse. They had no reason to believe I was involved since I wasn’t and most likely they still think it was the Iranians. Much of their questioning led that direction. Though, no doubt, if they would have found any piece of my background, I would have been done for.”

“Why do you think I requested to oversee your transfer after your release. I wouldn’t want the wrong people getting their hands on you,” the Lieutenant said.

“Is that why we’re in this makeshift camp?” he asked.

“Something like that.”

“Jessica, I have to go public with this. I’m only giving you warning because of our… history. I’ll give you 48 hours to pass the word along if need be,” he said.

He called her by her first name? No one calls her by her first name. Whatever history he had with the Lieutenant must have been more personal than the interviews I had been around for.

“There’s no way I can get to my people in 48 hours,” came the Lieutenant’s growling response. “This will compromise years of work and endanger tens of thousands of people. It’ll be impossible to anticipate their response going forward.”

“The truth will out. It’s only a matter of time before they find we’re responsible, even if they can’t prove it.”

“They’re guessing. Putting this out there would blow the cover off our operations. Everyone, everything we’re trying to protect would be put at risk.”

“Our citizens need to know about this. The government can’t go around killing whoever they deem a significant threat. He hasn’t committed any crimes.”

“He was planning the largest terrorist attack in history!”

“So arrest him. Notify the other nations of his plans. Anything but assassinate him.”

“Arrest the Crown Prince? Do you want us to start a war?”

“You don’t think this will start a war? They will respond, even if it isn’t overt. This was wrong.”

“Thousands would be dead, and we would end up at war anyhow. It’s wrong to save thousands of lives?“

“If it means murdering someone who hasn’t committed a crime, yes!” he said, growing louder.

I could tell this wasn’t going well. There was a pause of several seconds.

“So you’ve made your mind up then, there’s no swaying you?” the Lieutenant asked eventually.

“Jessica, this isn’t an attack on you or your people, I know you’re just following orders. I don’t know who made this call but, once the public finds out about it, there’ll be an investigation and, if what you say is true, I’m sure no one will blame you.”

“What if I made the call, would it make any difference?” the Lieutenant asked.

“You? Why would you make the call?” I could hear a new tension in his voice as it had gone higher. “Assassinating a Crown Prince is far above a lieutenant’s clearance. Besides, you wouldn’t, you wouldn’t have a man killed for a crime he didn’t commit.”

“The politicians have to keep their hands clean, and someone has to ensure the safety of our people, so it was left up to me.”

“I know you wouldn’t kill an innocent man,” he said.

“You know I believe in justice. You know I believe in protecting the innocent. I’m sorry, Mike, protecting the innocent is much more complicated than that. I need to know if you’re with us or not?”

There was silence for quite a few seconds, maybe a minute. “I’m with you,” he said finally.

“I want to believe that Mike, but you never were a good liar.”

“No,” came his startled yelp, cut off by two shots ringing out.

I stepped into the tent after I heard the shots. The Lieutenant was standing, her sidearm in hand. The journalist lay on the opposite side of the table in the sand, bleeding out, two holes in his chest, his chair toppled over next to him.

The Lieutenant took a deep breath looking at the journalist for a moment and shaking her head.

“I’m sorry Ma’am. I take it you knew him well,” I said.

Without turning to look at me, she said, “Once, I did. It’s unfortunate he happened to be there, a thousand other journalists would have had no clue. But, he made his choice long ago, idealism over protecting reality. We were never close since.”

I stood there, dumbfounded. Perhaps the Lieutenant, once, had been human.

“Have the men get the shovels. Once it’s cleaned up, take the tent down and return to camp," she said coldly, then checked her watch. "Quickly, only another two hours outside of satellite coverage, you need to be on the road by then.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, stepping aside and saluting her as she walked out.

As she passed, I noticed a wet streak down her cheek.

One sunny summer day when I was a boy, I was playing on the grass around the house with my mother nearby hanging laundry on the clothesline. I was probably about 5 at the time, though it isn't really clear to me.

I was venturing a little farther and farther away from her, taking me closer to a field which had a large woods sitting on the other side of it. As I looked across the field toward the wood, I thought I saw people watching me.

I stopped and stared. I was sure they must be people, three in fact, so I waved. They did not wave back, they actually seemed to be startled by my waving and quickly moved into the wood and out of sight.

I hurried back to my mother and asked, "Mama, who are the people who live in the woods?"

Her reply was simple and calm, "Honey, there are no people who live in the woods."

"But, I just saw them. Do they live somewhere nearby?" I pressed.

Her tone changed then, becoming much more stern, "I just told you, there are no people who live in the woods. I don't know what you saw, but it was certainly not people."

Looking back, that should have been my first sign, that change in tone, that defensive posturing, my mother knew something that she didn't want to tell. Mind you I believed everything my mother ever told me with the utmost faith. I mean, what young boy wouldn't believe whatever his mother told him.

I went on from that point in my life sure I had seen something, but not sure what it was. My mother had told me there were no people living in the wood and so my imagination tried to replace what I'd seen with other possibilities like trees swaying in the wind, bears, shadows playing tricks, anything really, but not people.

Over time I had largely forgotten about the day I had seen the people in wood. Of course, there had been other issues around the wood that seemed strange and always kept that day in the back of my mind. I could go out and play, but I was never to go into the field that led to the woods. It was not our property after all and we did not want any trouble with trespassing. Once, I had seen lights flickering in the woods briefly. I had asked my father about this and he thought I merely saw fireflies off in that direction.

It was several years later before another real incident occurred, I was now eleven years old. I had been begging for a dog for years and was told I could not have one until I was responsible enough to take care of him myself. Finally, my wish was granted, at eleven I had apparently learned enough responsibility and one day my father brought home the cutest yellow lab pup. I decided his name would be King Tut as he was made out of gold just like the Pharoah's mask, archaeology always intrigued me as a boy.

The spring had come in quickly that year and despite being early March the grass was starting to green. The field towards the woods was still filled with mostly long brown grass as it took until midsummer for it to green up. I had let my pup out to go pee and looked for my coat to go out with him. He was only a few months old and was very curious, so it didn't surprise me when I went out and I didn't see him right away.

I called for him, but he didn't come. "King, come. Tutty puppy, where are you?" I was getting louder and louder, but there was no sign of him. I became nervous quickly, I could feel my chest tighten and heart start to beat more quickly. I didn't want to lose him, I didn't want anything bad to happen to him. I kept calling him as I ran around the yard scanning for any sign of him.

I heard a high pitched puppy yip in the direction of the field. As I glanced out over the tall brown grass I saw him jump up as he was on the run. He was headed in the direction of the wood. His color made him blend into the brown grass quite well and I certainly did not want to lose him, so I took off on a run after him.

The grass was tall and slightly damp from the morning dew, my jeans and shoes were getting soaked, but it was not going to slow me down. I ran with my knees high, hurdling large clumps of grass and yelling for Tut the whole time. I decided he must be chasing something because he had yet to slow down or even look back at me yelling. I was closing on him, but it was slow.

I was close to halfway across the field and Tut was nearly to the wood. He came to a sudden halt and started yipping frantically. I thought he had merely cornered his prey at first, that was until I noticed the figure just inside the treeline of the woods.

I came to a screeching halt as I realized what I was seeing. It appeared to be a relatively tall man, perhaps the tallest man I had seen before. He stood there motionless, as did I.

Tut continued his yipping and after a few seconds of frozen fright, I began to call for him again. Tut paid me no attention though, so I started closing on him slowly. I was afraid he was bothering this man in the woods and I certainly didn't want any trouble with him.

That's when it happened, the man stepped from the edge of the wood into the light. Let me just tell you that this moment will never leave my mind and the image of him is as clear today as it was at that moment. He was not naked, not in the sense that you or I am naked when we have no clothes on, but he certainly had no clothes on. He had long reddish brown hair coming down from his head well past his shoulders, with a slight bald spot right above his forehead. Speaking of his forehead, it was more like a fivehead, you know the type that seems unusually lengthened. His nose was large and wide. His eyes seemed to be slightly wide set, in the kind of eerie way that makes you feel a person is not quite right. He was most definitely that tallest man I had ever seen and his long arms and hands even seemed to accentuate that appearance. He was also the hairiest man I had ever seen, which is why I say he was not naked like you or me when we are unclothed. His chest hair was long enough to come down past his pecks. His belly, thighs, and midsection all appeared to be completely covered in hair. The rest of him appeared to have some hair, but nothing like his front side.

I was frozen in my tracks again and entirely unsure what to do. In my mind, this was a man, a very strange man, but a man. I had seen stories of bigfoot creatures before and this certainly did not look like the image I had of that. This was a man, a man who almost looked like he wore a fur coat on his front, but a man nonetheless. This man continued out of the woods toward my yippy young pup. I was afraid and so I knelt down in the grass and hid behind it watching leerily. The man stepped closer and closer to the dog and once he was within a few feet he simply raised his arms tall and yelled loudly. I will tell you that I had never heard anything like that before. It reminded me of a couple years earlier when I had heard a lion roar at the zoo, not quite as load, but definitely as deep.

My dog immediately took off in fright. It yelped a little as it sped back towards me. Then when it got to me it jumped into my arms. The man seemed to follow the dog's path and quickly his gaze was upon me. He stood motionless for a moment, then pointed directly at us and, with a rather mean glare, pointed directly back to my house. It was the kind of signal that meant - Go, go now!

And so I went, with my pup in my arms, as fast as my legs would take me through the grass. I ran all the way to the house, all the way inside, all the way to my room, shutting and locking each door along the way, where I sat down on the floor with my pup still in my arms, and I cried. I cried not sad tears or tears of regret, but fearful ones.

I spent most of the rest of that day in my room. I came out for dinner that night and when mom asked what was wrong, I lied. I told her I just didn't feel good. She had dad take the dog outside later and I almost cried out that he shouldn't, but I stopped myself.

My mind was struggling with how to handle this situation, I was afraid. I feared this man in the woods, but I also feared the trouble I would get into for being in the field. Did my parents know this man lived in the woods? Was this really why I was never supposed to go into the field? Why had my parents lied to me? I didn't feel like I could even think straight with all the swirling questions and conspiracy theories going through my mind.

Eventually I slept that night. It was not a peaceful sleep and I did not feel particularly rested the next day. I do not recall my dreams now, but I do remember they were not pleasant.

It was rainy the next day and I had a reprieve from my thoughts while I went to school. I came home and I went out briefly with Tut, keeping him on his leash the whole time. I could barely see the woods in the distance through the rain and haze. I wasn't sure if the cold rain was making me shiver or if it was the memory of seeing the man in the woods, but the thought of him was enough to quickly frighten me back inside.

I went to school the next couple of days and thought about what had happened off and on. It was lingering in my mind all the time. I remembered seeing three people out there when I was younger and wondered if that man was one of them. If he was, were the other two his family. I couldn't imagine what they might look like, or at least I didn't really want to.

The weekend came around and my parents were both home, sitting in the living room with me. We had an older Zenith tv with a decorative wood casing sitting on the floor. The news was on and I was sitting in front of couch petting Tut who lay between my legs. I had thought about it long enough and needed to have it out.

"Why have you been lying to me about the people in the woods?" I asked, seemingly to the room itself. But, it brought the desired response. Both my parents looked at me and stared eyes wide, but my mother's mouth had fallen open as well.

My dad was the first to speak, "Son, what are you talking about? There are no people in the woods."

"So you're just going to keep doing it, you're just going to keep lying to me?"

My dad's expression turned sour. He didn't take kindly to being called a liar and if I were a grown man I could imagine him coming over and hitting me square in the nose. "I will not sit here and be called liar by my own son," he said with a fierce town in his voice. His hands were gripping tight on the armrests of his chair now. "I'll give you exactly one chance to explain to me what you're talking about."

My mother's face was growing pale. She did not like where this was going, I could tell just from looking at her. I thought quickly and said, "Maybe mom should tell you." My mother's look went from pale to horrified.

"What's this boy blathering about, Karen?" my dad asked.

She looked at me, daggers coming from her eyes, I could feel them trying to cut through my chest. My dad looked at her, his expression seeming ponderous, yet somehow staying stern with creases across his brow. My mother started softly, "He... He's delusional Bill. He thinks he's seen people in the woods, you know how his imagination can be."

I couldn't believe it. I could tell she knew something and not only was she denying it to me, but she was lying about it to my father as well. Unbelievable, I thought. My dad was shaking his head. "James is this true," he said.

"No! No, it's not true. I have seen them with my own eyes more than once. I have seen one of them closer than I would have liked to and..."

My mother cut me off, "What? What did you see? When? They would never come up toward the house?" She had outed herself and she knew it. Her expression went blank and stern.

She looked at my father who stared back at her. "Karen, what the hell is going on here? You've got some explaining to do and you better start now," he said as he stood up from his chair.

My mother paused a long while. She looked from my father to me with her bottom lip curled in, like she wasn't sure if she should tell us or just kill us and forget about it.

"Fine, fine," she said, drawing out the second fine like someone had been twisting her arm behind her back and she had been given enough pain to relent. "I do know what he is talking about. He has mentioned seeing them years ago, but I didn't know about anything recent."

"Get to the point! What do you know and who are they?" My father's frustration was starting to show and his face was turning red.

"This was my parents' place before we lived here you know. It sat vacant for years because they died in a car crash along with my brother. At least that's what I told everyone. There never was a crash."

My father sat back down and look starkly shocked. I just sat staring intently at my mother, happy to finally have heard some truth.

My mother continued, "My brother George was a sweet boy, but he had something terribly wrong with him. When he was six and I was twelve we were the same height for the first time. That only lasted a few months and he was half a foot taller than me by his seventh birthday. This was not the only thing going on with him, it was just one of the first signs of a deeper problem. His body was in overdrive producing growth hormones out of control. He didn't fit in anywhere and was ostracized at school. He looked like a high schooler, but he was only in first grade. He was hairier and more muscular than any normal boy.

"An older boy in 5th grade picked on him and George nearly killed him. We think George only hit him once, but it broke the boy's jaw and fractured his skull. George was kicked out of school. I remember how much commotion it caused, I was in 7th grade and it was still all anyone talked about for weeks in school. It was hard for me to have a normal life, let alone George.

"I remember mom and dad talking about it at dinner, what they could do to give both of us a normal life. As long as George was around things were going to be strange for all of us. The woods and field still belong to my family, they were put into a permanent trust to be kept, as is, indefinitely. They were George's favorite place to spend time when we were young. The only place he could be himself and not have people make jokes, point, or stare at him.

"They finally decided to build a cabin in the woods and stay there in hiding from the world. They gave me a choice of what I wanted to do. If I wanted to stay they would wait until I was eighteen so that I wouldn't have to go live with anyone else. I don't know exactly how they did it, but they faked their deaths in the crash. Dental records came back verifying there were in the crash. Their will set up the trusts for the land and for me with money from the life insurance, which was quite substantial."

"They just left you?" my dad asked.

"They didn't leave me, I left them. I wanted a normal life. They intended to sneak over to the house at night and visit me on occasion, but I left for college and never looked back. I went years without coming home, which is why the house sat vacant. It was their house, but it was in my name. Eventually, I missed them and felt I had made a terrible choice, but it had been too long and they did not try to reach me. I did not try to find them either."

"We were dating when we first moved back here, that was almost fourteen years ago. How long were you away before that?" My dad seemed awestruck but still filled with questions.

"Five years." came my mother's reply.

Meaning 19 years that her brother, mother, and father had lived in the woods. My uncle and grandparents who I had believed long dead were the people I was so afraid of in my woods.

It took some time and further discussion for all this to settle in with my father and me, but eventually, the picture became clear. My mother was afraid for anyone to know they had faked their deaths and, despite being separated from them for almost two decades, she still missed and wanted to see them. It was decided eventually that we would go one night to see them in the woods.

Unfortunately, this was just the beginning of the lie. My father and I had no clue what my mother was leading us into. This was just the surface of the pond still and calm, what lay beneath would come when we entered the wood.

Mirror glass smooth and dark as can be.

The things beneath you cannot see.

They could be simple friendly things, like frogs or fish,

but they could also be things that desire your death.

Long you stare at its sheen as you ponder,

if its chill depths you could discover from under.

Your curiosity bests you and so you proceed

only to find it’s a soggy bog indeed.

As you descend and feel its chill damp,

you suddenly realize it is a deathtrap.

Your feet are stuck and you cannot move.

Your life is over, there’s nothing to do.

We all have at least one secret. Something, perhaps, that you just didn’t want anyone else to know. That time you picked your nose and ate it, I mean we all have probably done that, but we don’t want to advertise it. The time you hooked up in college when you were drunk, with a very regrettable partner. The time you picked up money on the street and put it in your pocket, even though shortly after you heard someone asking if anyone had seen it. The time you called into work sick and stayed home to relax, just because. Of course you didn’t even tell your spouse.

We all have secrets, some big, some small. Some that are hidden deep down inside us, that we don’t want anyone to ever know. Some are just embarassing little instances of poor judgement that, while not being truly reprehensible, we just prefer no one knows.

I have a secret. Can you guess what my secret might be? Well, I suppose you don’t know me very well yet and that will make it difficult.

I am a relatively large man, once a relatively large boy. I am tall, with broad shoulders and a thick chest. Not particularly long arms for my height, but they do display some signs of power in them.

When I was young I lived in a relatively rough neighborhood. That is to say, there was quite a bit of violence from time to time. Occasionally in my neighborhood a dead body would turn up. They might have been shot, stabbed, or just had their head cracked open with a blunt object.

You had to be careful where you went by yourself. Some places were just off limits unless you were in with the right people. There again, those people were usually wrong in quite a few ways, but you get the idea.

I have a secret. I have had this secret for what feels like a very long time. I have never told anyone this secret. I should probably not tell anyone this secret, but I feel it might do my soul some good. It might take a weight off my shoulders. It might lighten my load, as they say. Can you guess my secret yet?

I can see the wheels turning now. I can feel your sense of caution at where this might be going. It was a rather dark experience for me. I hate to make someone else relive it.

But, like I said, we all have secrets. I mean you have at least one secret, right? So you can relate. There has to be a time in everyone’s life when they did something even though they knew it was wrong.

I think you may be struggling though, so I will give you a hint. It involves an act of violence. An act of violence on my part of course.

No, you say. I seem like such a nice person, don’t I? Well, I already told there was a lot of violence in my neighborhood and sometimes it’s just hard not to get caught up in that. I normally wouldn’t have thought I was even capable of such thing. When someone brings violence to you, I suppose it can bring out the violence in you.

I have a secret. But, I don’t want this secret anymore. I have to warn you, if you keep reading from this point, my secret will become yours. You will then have to decide what to do with it. I hope if you do keep reading to remember, we all have secrets and perhaps mine is no worse than yours.

I was walking home from school. I couldn’t drive yet, I was only 15. I remember the sun being out as summer was coming in, only a few wisps of clouds in the sky. A very nice day to be out, if only it wouldn’t have led to my secret.

I had a little money and stopped at the corner store to buy a Coke. When I walked out I was approached by a man who looked rough to say the least, unkempt hair, tangled beard, and likely not bathed for a week. He had a rough raspy voice, though his years didn’t indicate he should have, and he asked if I could buy him a bottle of whiskey. Apparently the folks inside were bastards and wouldn’t serve him, according to him. The last bit he uttered with a hissing and spitting that would have put to shame any snake.

I said I was sorry, but I wouldn’t be able to do that.

He said, “Why not? You too good to help me out, too?”

“No,” I said, “they wont sell it to me.”

Apparently he didn’t buy that. He looked at me squint eyed for a moment, spat very nearly on my feet, and then yelled, “Piss off with ya!”

I was very much inclined to do just that by this point. I really wish my life would have been that simple on that day. I of course started quickly on my way home, happy to be rid of the rough looking man.

He apparently wasn’t ready to be rid of me though, because when I happened to look around after taking a sip of my Coke, I realized the man had been following me from a distance, about a half a block back or so. I unconsciously paused for a moment. I started walking again, thinking I didn’t want him to notice I had seen him. I picked up my pace slightly, once again hoping he wouldn’t notice.

I checked back over my shoulder a few moments later and didn’t see the man anywhere. I felt a sense of relief, assuming that he had given up pursuing me. After all, I was a boy, I had very little money on me, nothing else of value, and I had tried not to provoke him.

I walked for another minute or so, maybe two minutes at the most. I approached a corner alley that I had been past at least a hundred times before. Occassionally a couple people stood down in the alley, discussing whatever people discuss in alleys, but usually there was nothing there but a dumpster. Today though, today the rough man stood there, unbeknownst to me. When I stepped just next to the alley his hand sprung out and snatched me by the arm.

He had been standing there face up against the near wall waiting for me to come by. Now he had me and despite my brief yell of, “Hey, what the...”, before he got his other hand on my mouth. I didn’t think anyone had seen me get pulled in.

This is not my secret. This I could have reported to this police. I could have told my parents. I could tell you and you would probably not think any the worse of me. I have a secret and it’s about to be yours.

The man was dragging me back in despite the fact I was struggling at his arms and wrestling my body to get free. Eventually he had me back far enough or got tired of my struggling and threw me up against the dumpster. I yelled in pain.

“Shut your mouth or I’ll slit your throat right now,” he seethed at me.

I watched him, horror growing in my mind as I realized he was brandishing a razor blade at me.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson,” he said, as he continued waving the razor blade wildly. “You think I’m nothing, that you can make a fool of me. Well I’m no fool!”

I sat there on the pavement taking this in. My heart was pumping like it wanted to explode. My mind was searching for a way out. It was then I noticed the loose brick on the wall next to me, by my elbow.

The man went on ranting at me, though I’m not sure what else he said. I was too busy reaching for this brick. Praying in my mind that it would come loose. I felt it’s rough texture and grabbed at it firmly, pulling it. It didn’t immediately come free, but as I felt an increasing sense of dread as the man closed the last few feet, it popped free. As it came out, I swung it in one motion from behind my hip towards his head. I caught him hard, just above his left temple. He fell over sideways then.

I stood up quickly, hopping to my feet. The man was still conscious, I wasn’t safe. I drew the brick back and fired it at his head. It struck him right square in the forehead. His body fell back limp, no longer trying to support itself. A trickle of blood formed and started to leak down his forehead and across his eye onto his cheek.

I kicked the razor blade out of his hand, which was now open and limp. I actually kicked his hand more than anything, which also helped to prove he was out. I grabbed the brick again, fear still coursing through my veins. It had been my only protection.

At this point I could have ran. I could have thrown that brick down and walked away around the corner to find someone to call the police. I mentioned that my neighborhood was rough and I knew that most guys didn’t spend long in jail before they were right back on the street. I was afraid. I didn’t even understand why this guy had come after me in the first place, let alone have a chance of guessing whether he would come after me again.

I made a decision then. That decision is part of my secret and what I did next was the whole of it.

My mind was still racing and I thought the man needed to die for me to be safe. I thought about bludgeoning him with the brick, but then I would be covered in blood. His razor blade? No, still likely to cover me in blood.

I dropped the brick, I kicked him once in the ribs to make sure he was out good. This caused little more than a wheezing breath. I jumped down on his chest with my legs straddling him. I grabbed his throat with both hands and squeezed with all my strength. I squeezed harder than I had ever squeezed anything in my life. After, a few moments his body convulsed slightly. Probably trying harder to suck in some air. Then, I felt him go limp. No more chest moving up and down under me. No more movenment at all.

I let go then, when I knew he was dead. When I knew I had killed him. I didn’t have to kill him, but I chose to. I don’t regret it, most days.

I had a secret, now you do too!