It seemed as if he was the only sane person left on the face of the earth. He wasn’t lying to anyone. He knew he wasn’t lying. He couldn’t be lying about anything he said. It simply was not his nature. Yet nobody seemed to believe him. It wasn’t the case of it being something difficult to believe, either. All they had to do to believe it was just open their minds a little. It was not so much a matter of people pushing their limits more than it was a matter of realizing those limits and where they were and where they stood. But nobody would even bother to do that. All they did was smile and nod to his face, while talking about him behind his back. He knew they talked about him, but it didn’t matter. Or maybe it did matter. Their reactions to him had caused him to question himself so many times. But when he looked in the mirror and saw what was looking back out at him, he knew there was no question. The truth was staring him right back in the face, and it was almost so close that he could feel it.

Every time he reached out to feel it, though, all he felt was coldness and desolation.

He gets off of his bed and walks out of his room and into the bathroom down the hall. He intentionally keeps staring at the floor while he brushes his teeth and splashes some water on his face to wash away any remnants of sleep. He is not prepared to see the truth in the mirror at the moment. He grabs a towel and wipes away the water before leaving the bathroom and heading back to his own room. He pulls open the top drawer of his dresser and grabs a blue T-shirt. He puts it on over his well-muscled torso and turns around to go into his closet. He grabs a pair of black jeans and puts them on. Today was Saturday, and he did not have to work on the weekends. Today would be his day. Forget all the family responsibilities. They could do without him for a while.

He goes downstairs and into the kitchen. Nobody would be home at the moment, which was perfect for him. Right now being social did not matter. His eyes skim over the note they had left for him, telling him where they were going and when they should be back. Whatever. He opens the fridge and grabs the box of orange juice. He shakes it and realizes that there was not much left. He downs the last of it straight from the box and tosses the box in the bin. He takes an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter and walks out through the back door.

The sun is now beginning to warm the morning and he can feel its rays on his skin. It feels good, especially after coming out of the house. The furnace always had a problem warming the house when it came to the predawn and dawn hours for some reason, and it got very cold inside all parts of the house during that time. He spends a few minutes taking in the sun and eating the apple before throwing the core in the general direction of the flower garden and heading over to the side of the house, where the gate was.

It was a perfect time to take a walk in the woods. After what people kept telling him, it would do him some good to be able to allow himself to relax and let it all out. He starts walking along the path as he takes in all the sights and sounds of the morning. This was a peaceful place to be in for sure. He arrives at the stream before long and takes the side path that would lead him to the lake. He remembers what had happened the last time. How he suddenly felt enclosed in a dark and quiet area. How he could hardly see a thing even though the moon should have been peering through the trees. That sort of thing made you lose your bearings when it happened. Even though he knew these woods, it was unnerving to have something like that happen.

It does not happen this time. He arrives at the lake and sits down on the log. Looking down he can still see the bloodstained leaves and twigs, remnants of several nights ago. What an eventful night it was. At times all he wanted was for the night to be over but he was looking for somebody. The night couldn’t be over until that someone was found. But he ended up giving up when he realized that there was little hope. He turned around and headed back with his mind in a mess. He did not know what he would say or do when he met the family. Perhaps he didn’t need to meet the family. But it had to happen sometime, and at least they were relieved to see him when they finally got a chance to.

He looks across the surface of the water. Things were too difficult in his life at the moment. He had just gone through a difficult couple of years, and it was tough to have to cope with it. Maybe this was it. Maybe this would be the end. He did not need to go back to the house. He could just disappear now and they would move on with their lives eventually, just like they had moved on the last time. Of course they would miss him, but maybe that was what they needed to do. Maybe they needed to miss him. Nobody took him seriously anyway. Maybe when he was gone they would regret that.

He had to give them a chance to regret it, or else they would never do it.

He gets up and walks up to the edge of the water. He leans forward slightly and looks down at his reflection. This was the first time he was staring at the truth since that night. But what was that truth exactly? He does not quite know. All he knows is that he is looking at it, and it was looking back at him. He continues looking at it until something happens and he has to almost jump back in surprise. That very truth was not only staring back at him from the surface of the water. It was staring at him from within the depth. He cautiously inches back over to the edge of the lake and peers in. It was there and it behaved like a reflection, but it was coming from inside the water. He stoops down and reaches out his hand to touch it.

Nothing but coldness and desolation once again.

He stands up and looks around. There was something about this place that he cannot quite get at the moment. But he knew it was a special place. It was a strange place, at least. He keeps thinking this when something catches his eye. He is not alone in this strange and special place any longer. Someone is here, and while he cannot see or hear them, he can almost feel it. He darts his head back and forth looking for the source of that feeling, but he does not know where it comes from. He takes a seat on the log again and decides that he will wait for whoever or whatever it is to make that first move. He stays for almost half an hour before he gets tired of waiting. The feeling was still there but maybe it is just his imagination.

He gets up and starts walking back along the path when something falls from a tree and lands in front of him some distance away. He cannot make out what it is, but he knows that whatever it is does not grow on any tree he knew about. He makes his way closer to the object and frowns a bit before stepping back in shock. It certainly does not grow on trees, and he was hoping that he would never have seen that object again. He slowly turns his head upwards to look up at the tree it fell from. There was nothing there except branches and leaves. Where did this come from? He mutters something to himself as he hops over the object and quickens his pace to exit the woods. He meets the stream again and he follows it, stopping at the fork between the way back out to the house and the path deeper into the heart of the woods. He would like to go into the deepest part of the woods but he is almost afraid of what else will turn up there. At the same time he does not want to head back out either. He could always go back to where he came from, but that would mean facing that…thing again.

It was the classic scenario. He was stuck at a crossroads.

He is still deciding what to do when someone taps him lightly on the shoulder. He turns around, slightly surprised. He surprise does not last long, as he is nailed with a punch as soon as he turns. He gets hit so hard that he spins around again and falls into the cold stream. His head was spinning and he could taste his own blood. He pushes himself up on his arms so that he is on all fours but all that happens is that he gets kicked in his ribs so hard that he ends up rolling over and ending up on his back on the other side of the stream. The blood was running down from his lip freely now, and he was having problems breathing after taking that hit to his ribs. Whoever it was that had attacked him was coming closer. He tries to scramble away but they grab him and pull him up to his feet. They shove him up against a tree trunk and hold him there by his neck, putting enough pressure not to outright choke him, but to make breathing even more difficult. He blinks away the blurriness and tries to focus his vision on who it is. As soon as he realizes who it is, he tries to get away but the person brings their knee up and rams it into his gut.

It was his best friend. Thomas Kilik.

Thomas lets go of Sean and lets him fall to the ground. Sean clutches at his throat as he gasps for air. Thomas grabs him by the chin and turns his face so the two men look into each other’s faces.

Thomas: Save yourself an even worse beating and you tell me this, Sean. You fuckin’ hit her, didn’t you? You hit her and broke her arm, caused her to fall to the ground while you stood there and watched. She didn’t climb any tree and fall down, did she. No, you fuckin’ hit my little cousin!

Sean tries to say something but Thomas shoves him away and he hits the back of his head on a tree.

Thomas: I promised you I wouldn’t beat you any more if you told me. And I won’t. I’m going to do something worse. You know I enjoy fucking with people’s minds, Sean. Allow me to fuck with yours.

Thomas turns and walks away and leaves Sean leaning against the tree. Sean watches as he disappears behind some more trees before he slowly gets to his feet. He had a hobby that involved getting himself beaten up from time to time, but nothing could have prepared him for this beating. He kneels down at the side of the stream and begins to wash his face. His lip was beginning to swell, but at least he could explain that away. He couldn’t explain a thing to Thomas at the moment, he just did not know where to begin. Thomas was right about messing with people’s minds. He could do that like no other, simply because Thomas just did not care about a whole lot, and he didn’t mind sacrificing friendships or good relationships with people in general.

It is only when he is done with it that he notices something. The stream was cold, but touching his reflection was no longer cold. He knew he couldn’t be lying about it.

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