Watched (ONC 2021)

Chapter 3 - The Hatchet

Image by Jay Heike from Unsplash

***

"Fu—" I whirled around to meet Mike's hazelnut eyes. Calming. Loving. Concerned.

"Winston, you alright?"

I caught my breath and spit out the residual vomit in my mouth. Its acidity burned my lips. "She's here. I think."

"Who?" But as his gaze followed my head tilt to the body, he stiffened. "Oh God," he muttered with ragged breaths. "What do, how do..." His hands tugged at his dark hair like removing it would make this scene vanish.

I fought my urge to turn away from the body one taut muscle at a time until Mrs. Crawford was back in my line of sight. I focused on my breathing like when I had to push through the wall during a marathon. Except there were no bloody corpses on those paths. With each exhalation, I closed my eyes to find peace and with each inhale I took in Mrs. Crawford's fate to ground myself in this hell. The putrescent stench of her corpse, the wiggling maggots returning her to the earth, the white of rib bones peaking from the gory, red cave of her chest. I shuddered.

Breathe.

Panic wouldn't help her.

But wasn't that a normal emotion in this situation?

Three deep breaths.

In and out.

And again.

"You okay?" Mike pulled me closer.

Two weeks had passed since the statue was here, and no one had cared enough to discover her fate until now, myself included. It felt like the week my mother had died. When I'd failed to keep her from her delusions. The world watched the aftermath, muttering the obligatory condolences while rejoicing the neighbourhood was free of that strange woman. I had seen the words written in their eyes. The boy's better off. One less burden for the family.

"Why didn't anyone check on her?" I croaked through my burning throat. "We all knew she was missing."

Mike stared at his hands. "I guess we assumed she up and left. It wouldn't have changed anything unless you were there as it happened. Even then, who knows if that would have cost your life too."

Had that hole in her chest caused her death? It bled, so her injury occurred when her heart was beating, not after. Was there something lurking in the forest waiting to rip out our organs next or had she done this to herself? A poison ivy itch spread up my arms to the base of my neck.

Branches cracked near the woman as Milo sauntered to Mrs. Crawford and yowled until my heart ached as much as his did. That blood was dry, parts of her red flesh were missing, and if I believed her last journal entry happened the day of her death she'd been here for weeks. Whatever or whoever had caused this was miles away now.

"Should we call her family?" I asked. Her journal had mentioned Tony but I didn't know of him.

Mike laced our fingers together, pressing his sweaty palm against mine. "I don't know if she has any nearby."

He surprised me by walking toward the bloated woman. He only released me to kneel at her side with an arm over his nose and visually examine her head and torso. I turned away and distanced myself. The feeding flies and maggots made my stomach acid threaten to navigate my throat.

Slow breaths.

After the wind howled, a distant crash and subsequent crack echoed much like when the tree had crushed the shed. We both jumped, and Milo bolted into the forest like he was racing in a 100-metre dash.