Chapter Text
The volleyball bounced off of my forehead as the dismissal bell rang. It was the cherry on top of a brutally awful day, the likes of which I’d yet to see in Forks these past two months. Slipping and sliding to school in the icy March rain, friends making passive aggressive digs over boys I don’t even like, ruining my skirt by dropping marinara sauce in my lap, nearly fainting in biology during our blood typing unit. It was like the universe decided to cram every aggravating thing it could throw at me into one day.
I guess every day couldn’t be monumentally boring.
“Ouch!” I shouted angrily, clapping my hands over my forehead. My classmates on the other side of the net snickered and went on to the locker room.
“Shake it off, Swan, you’re alright,” the gym teacher shouted from across the gym.
Then, like clockwork, I heard Mike run over, worriedly asking, “Are you alright, Bella?”
I wiped away the residual tears that gathered in the corners of my eyes, then looked at him with a grim smile. “Better than ever.”
Things weren’t always quite this bad. In fact, I found a few things to appreciate about living in a small town. I fell into a steady routine at home with Charlie. I got invited to go places with my friends. I didn’t always accept the invitation, but it was nice to be thought of. And at my school in Phoenix, no one bothered to check on me every time I got spiked in the head with a ball. I still hated the rain and the cold, but even that was a little more tolerable now — a little.
My life in Forks wasn’t anything to write home about. Literally. Mom always asked me in her emails for updates — new friends, new boys, new anything — and after a while, I stopped having much to tell her. Besides this singularly terrible day, nothing interesting has happened to me.
Except… my first day of school. Biology class. My strange lab partner, who I never saw again after that day.
In the locker room, I changed quickly and hurried off, ducking my head to keep everyone from staring at the angry red circle on my forehead. Mike was waiting for me outside the gymnasium doors. He liked to walk me to my truck after class. Even though I always steered the conversation into friendly territory, I knew it drove Jess insane. My eyes flitted around the misty parking lot for any sign of her as we walked. The last thing I wanted was one last confrontation before I finally got to be alone for a while.
It almost sounded like a dream. Perfectly, blessedly alone. I didn’t even say goodbye to Mike as I headed for my truck’s driver’s side door, fishing my keys from my pocket. I was too lost in the possibilities. Maybe I would take a nap before starting on my homework. Or maybe I would wash a load of clothes. What would I make for dinner tonight?
“Bella? Did you hear me?”
I turned to look at Mike, noticing for the first time an uneasy frown on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just… Do you think you have a concussion?” he asked. He seemed to dither for a moment, then he took a couple steps forward, gently brushing my hair away from my face with his fingertips.
I flinched away.
“I’m fine, Mike. I’ve taken worse hits, I promise,” I joked, putting on a smile that I hope would calm his concerns. He didn’t look convinced. Still, he stepped out of my space, and the tension in my body relaxed.
“If you say so,” he mumbled. Then, he nodded at my truck. “You’ve got something on your windshield, by the way.”
“Do I?”
I looked. And he was right. Under the wiper closest to me, a folded piece of paper.
“Thanks,” I said, carefully plucking the paper out from under its weight. “I never would’ve noticed that.”
He shrugged, and then with a quiet goodbye, he walked away. There was a dejected hunch to his shoulders that made my chest ache. I sighed. Someday soon, I would resolve this weirdness between us.
For now, I finished unlocking my door and climbed into the cab of my truck, the strange note in my hand. The paper was pale white and unlined, thicker and stiffer than printer paper. Maybe it had been pulled from a nice journal — one of the long edges was softened, as if it has been neatly ripped.
I unfolded the page to find it mostly blank. No salutation. No name at the bottom to sign it off. Just a simple message, one sentence in the center of the page, written in neat script and black ink.
Don’t go into the woods alone.
A few weeks ago, on an unusually balmy February day, I decided to lay out in the sun. With my Jane Austen book and a quilt in tow, I got comfortable in the backyard, reading until I got sleepy. I even napped for a while. I loved the dry Arizona heat, but this break in the clouds felt like wrapping up in a comforter straight out of the dryer, gentle and warm.
It was a nice way to spend an afternoon… except for the dream I had.
It was unlike anything my brain had come up with before.
In the dream, it was nighttime and I was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring out the window. The room around me was like its own presence. I could feel the air pressing on my back like a physical force, urging me to turn around. But I knew if I did, I would be confronted with… something. I didn’t know what it might be, but it made me uneasy.
What was worse, though, was looking out into the forest behind the house. I was locked in a staring contest — and those were the right words for it, because something was looking back at me. I searched the branches and the brush, the ferns and the treetops, but my eyes didn’t settle on anything other than shadows. The blackened forest swayed and swirled in the breeze, impressing on me a mounting sense of foreboding.
I woke up with a gasp, pitching forward until I was sitting up. My head whirled with the sudden displacement of blood. The sun was still high in the sky, a gossamer layer of white clouds blunting its rays. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour.
As I gathered my things, preparing to head inside, the wind picked up. The sounds of creaking tree limbs and rustling leaves caught my attention. I faced the woods again, lucid this time, and looked. Really looked. Everything about Forks bothered me when I first arrived — the wet air, the layers of moss covering everything, the color green all on its own — but now I really let myself see what surrounded me. It wouldn’t conquer me. I would conquer it.
Instead of heading back to the house, I took my things and headed into the forest. I didn’t walk for long, my own clumsiness keeping me from heading too far in any direction. But, once I found a spot I liked, I sat down with my quilt and my book, and I read, leaning against the thick trunk of a fallen tree. I stayed there longer than I did in my own backyard. When I noticed the sunlight was dimming, I hurried back home, knowing I would never make it out on my own if it got dark.
That night, in my bed, I slept with my back to the window, feeling oddly as if I had poked a sleeping bear. And I wasn’t sure if I was prepared to confront it.
I had to wait for a few days to leave my response. First because I wasn’t sure what to say, and I wanted to choose my words carefully. Then, a heavy storm system tore through town. I couldn’t leave a piece of paper out in a downpour. It would fall apart before they could read my message.
Whoever “they” might be.
On the next misty day, I parked in the same spot as before and left my reply under the driver’s side windshield wiper.
It read: Who are you to tell me what to do?
My sloppy handwriting looked childish beneath the stranger’s elegant penmanship. It didn’t help that my hand was shaking as I wrote it. Though I’d had plenty of time to process the situation and decide what to do, I was frightened. Who wouldn’t be?
I didn’t recognize the handwriting. I was alone that day that I went into the woods. Or at least I thought I was. Combined with the memories of that daytime nightmare, I felt like my every move was being watched. But by who?
Still, I was confident about my reply. I wanted to say more, to demand more of an explanation, but writing more than a single sentence seemed like it would let on more of my fear than I wanted to reveal. Besides, I wasn’t scared enough to bring it to Charlie’s attention. Or anyone else’s for that matter. I might even come back once school is over to find the note untouched. Maybe it would all add up to nothing.
With one last look at the note and a quick glance around the parking lot, I headed to class.
I did my best not to think about it during my classes. Once the final bell rang, though, I rushed out of the gym to get back to my truck. I didn’t even acknowledge Mike as I ran through the double doors, leaving him perplexed and scowling in my wake.
The note was gone.
I blinked at the empty space, my heart sinking into my stomach.
Oh, well. The wind and rain had picked up again, anyway. Maybe it was blown away.
I walked a circle around the truck, scanning the ground, the spots underneath the cars beside mine, but nothing. As I searched, a roaring engine startled me, and I looked up to see the Cullens speeding past me in their shiny red sports car.
He never returned to school after that day in biology class. I still saw his siblings nearly every day. Sometimes, I considered asking Jess or Angela if he was even real — but I knew that would make me sound insane. I remembered watching him walk in to the cafeteria, the confused frown on his face as he talked to his family, the fury in his black eyes when I sat down by him at our lab table.
I supposed I would never know where he went, or how he could hate me so quickly. I supposed, at the end of all things, none of it mattered anyway.
That night, I dreamed of the woods again. I stared hard into the swirling darkness, but I didn’t see anything resembling a person, an animal, anything with the power to look back at me as I looked at it. My bedroom still pressed against my back, the shadows clawing at me to turn around, to look away.
At around 4:00 A.M., I woke up gasping again, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm in my chest. Then, once I calmed down, I threw myself back under my covers, groaning into my pillow.
What was there to be scared of? Nothing. And tomorrow I would prove it.
“Bells, I’m headed over to La Push,” Charlie said as he shrugged on his coat. “Gonna catch a game at Billy’s. You wanna come?” When I shook my head, he added, “You sure? I hate leaving you alone on weekends. Jake should be there. You like him well enough.”
“He’s nice,” I said, only a little evasive. Charlie wasn’t wrong, and I knew I would have a good time if I went. But… “I have something I need to take care of. I don’t want to put it off anymore.”
I waited for Charlie’s cruiser to disappear down the street before pulling on some old jeans, a thick sweater, and a barely-used pair of hiking boots. Then, I ran downstairs and threw the back door open. Everything looked as ordinary as it ever did, but just this sight from my backyard wasn’t enough for me.
I stumbled and fell and meandered my way through the woods. I hiked farther than I had on that day in February. It was much colder this time, and windier, but I had no intention of sitting down and sticking around for very long. I only wanted to walk as far as I could go.
Every muscle in my body was tense with an unnameable fear. I looked around and reminded myself that the shadowy forest from my dream wasn’t real — or at least, it wasn’t the reality of these woods. In the gray light of day, I could see everything. I even spotted a doe several yards from me, sniffing shrubs and tree bark. When we locked eyes, we both startled and the doe ran away. I giggled at my jumpiness, looking all around me, taking in the fragile stillness.
“See?” I whispered, slightly winded from all of my efforts. I was never much of a hiker, and a lot of the path I’d forged went uphill. “Everything’s fine. I’m not afraid.”
I repeated those words quietly to myself as I walked back down to the house. I spoke so quietly that no one else, hidden or otherwise, would be able to hear me.
I spent the rest of the day cleaning and finishing my homework. On Sunday, Charlie went over to La Push again, and I even went with him this time.
On Monday morning, I ran out to my truck, my eyes darting to the windshield wipers out of habit and found-
The piece of paper. Neatly folded. Waiting for me.
Don’t go into the woods, Bella. It’s dangerous. Trust me. Please.
I sat in the cab, staring at the note, at our brief correspondence. Large drops of rain started to speckle the windows, plinking against the roof and the bed. I knew I should leave for school now, I was already late, but I couldn’t even bring myself to put the key in the ignition. I could only look at the note, my skin prickling with a preternatural awareness. I knew with a fair amount of certainty that I was being watched right now.
I was being watched… by someone who was telling me to stay out of danger.
The woods were dangerous… and yet I was okay.
I mulled over the baffling contradictions, uncertain of how I landed in this strange situation.
I sat there for longer than I should have. My first class would start before I could pull into the parking lot. The rain was pelting my truck, a loud torrent that made it impossible to think any more. I made a quick but firm decision.
First, I turned on my truck, the engine roaring ferociously to life. Then, I cracked my car door open and dropped the note to the gravel below.
As I pulled away from my house, I fixed my eyes on the road, and wondered what my stranger would do next.