Out of The Woods (22 page)

Halley let her go. She wouldn’t go far, not until this was over. Staring down at the pinewood table, Halley’s eyes moved restlessly over the worn-out love-poem, the empty brown mug, and the notebook Hope had left behind. If only there was a clue. If only it didn’t depend on Hope having to remember this way.

The notebook!

Halley quickly pulled it towards her. It was spiral-bound, just like ones she’d used for taking notes during college. She stared at the cover a moment before flipping it open. Notes from Bio-chemistry; Psychology 101; Animal Science. Each in their own section, and all neatly written with different color pens. Each section of notes ended abruptly – the last lectures were dated early November. But that didn’t make sense – the term didn’t end till mid-December.

Halley flipped to the last section of the notebook. This section hadn’t been used for class notes; this was personal. It began with love letters to Nick, which must have been written during some of the duller lectures, but the later writing seemed to be more self-reflective. Lists and lists of pros and cons of each man. This must have been what Hope was writing here in this house, about choosing between Andy and Nick. Halley read a bit of it, but it was too repetitive to stay with for long.

She flipped the pages, and something caught her eye – it was a bold sketch, slammed in among all the tiny writing. She flipped through the pages more slowly. Hope hadn’t drawn the sketch just once. She’d drawn it ten, twenty, maybe thirty times. Halley flattened the notebook open on the pinewood table with both hands, as if it would get away. She looked closely at one of the more detailed sketches. It made her head hurt.

It was a drawing of a nightmare forest of tangled trees, their branches crossing one another in thick wavy pencil lines. At the very center of the forest, Hope had drawn a fortress, shading its thick, grey stone darkly with the side of the pencil. She’d drawn winding paths through the woods – they all led to the fortress, but on each path, she had drawn a black, snarling dog. She was a good artist; the picture made Halley look up quickly to make sure she was still alone.

Halley placed her finger on one of the paths, and moved it towards the fortress. Her finger was shaking. There were doors on the fortress; Hope had drawn them as if they were open. Inside the fortress, right at the center, Hope had drawn a box. It could be a tomb. There was something written on it, not words, but a symbol. Three parallel lines. Like bars in a prison window.

Halley flipped through the notebook again, taking care to bookmark the detailed drawing with one finger. This time she noticed the three parallel lines everywhere. Small etchings and larger ones. Some horizontal to the page and others vertical. She went back to the bookmarked drawing and looked again.

Halley opened the kitchen door, and saw Hope slumped on the floor of the living room. She held the notebook out towards Hope, opened to the most detailed image of the fortress. “Did you draw this?”

Hope looked up. “What?”

Halley walked over to her and extended a hand, helping Hope to her feet. “This…”

“No…I don’t…but who could have…it’s my notebook…”

Halley led her slowly back into the kitchen and helped her into a chair.

“Oh, Halley…” Hope said. She rested her head in her hands.

“Something’s hidden there, isn’t it?” Halley pointed to the place on the sketch with her forefinger. Behind those bars. What is it Hope? Is it the truth?”

Hope looked at the sketch, and quickly looked away. “I…” Her hands had fallen to the table. Halley was mesmerized by what she did. Hope spread the fingers wide, keeping three fingers slightly closer together. She pressed hard on these fingers, so they lifted off the table at the second knuckle, flattening the fingertip and first knuckle onto the table. Then she drew the hand towards herself on the pinewood table. The movement looked awkward and painful.

“Stop that,” Halley said.

“What?”

“What you’re doing with your hand. Stop it.”

It bothered Halley in a way she didn’t understand.

Hope folded her hands tightly together, as if this were the only way she could control them.

Halley stared at Hope’s folded hands. It had become difficult to speak. “Try this. Something bad happened that night. Something you couldn’t face. You can’t face. But you didn’t do it. It’s okay, Hope. Stay. Please…sit back down.” Halley reached out and placed a gentle hand on Hope’s arm. “It’s over now. I’m here.” She breathed in deeply and waited until Hope resumed her seat. “We can take off the bars; we can open the tomb. Together. Nick can’t hurt you anymore.” Halley took her hand. It was cold. She placed her other hand over it, to try to warm her. “Did you draw this?” she asked again.

Hope placed her thin finger on the sketch, on the tomb that lay in the center of the fortress. “Yes.” She sighed heavily. “I built it…I mean drew it. Years ago. I drew it so well that it took on a life of its own. Even when I wanted to open it, when I needed to remember what I’d put in that tomb, I couldn’t. I can’t.”

“I guess you did build it. In your mind.”

“I guess so.”

“Can we open it now?”

There was a long silence. Hope stared down at the drawing. When she looked up at Halley, her face was ashen. She took a quick glance at the basement door, then drew in a deep breath and sat up straight.

“Okay. But stay with me…please, stay with me.”

“I’m right here.”

Hope breathed in like it hurt.

“What really happened that night?” Halley said. She pressed Hope’s hand between her own.

Hope looked down at her sketch. She swallowed. With one fingertip, she pressed hard on the sketch, on the tomb. The tip of her finger turned red from the pressure. “What I told you before was all true. All up to the last bit, where he put the knife back under the leaves.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He didn’t put the knife back, Halley, he didn’t.”

Halley felt her own hands grow cold. Together, they looked down at the sketch.

“I couldn’t move, like I said. He had his arm around me. He pulled me in tight, like he used to when we were first dating and he couldn’t get me close enough. But he still had the knife.” She stopped speaking and removed her finger from the drawing. “I was wearing this lovely filmy shirt. It had long, white sleeves. I remember the sleeves. They flared out at the ends by my wrists. It was something like a princess might wear. It made me feel pretty, feminine.” She hit the table with her fist suddenly, making Halley’s empty mug jump. “He ruined my beautiful shirt.”

“Ruined the shirt? What a strange thing to care about,” Halley said.

“You think so? Dad gave me that shirt,” Hope said with real anger. “I thought of it like armor, like he’d magicked some special powers onto the shirt to protect me when he wasn’t there. But it didn’t, did it? It didn’t protect me at all.” She looked up into Halley’s eyes, her pupils enormous in the dark room. “Nick grabbed my wrist. Tight. It hurt. I tried to pull away – I could feel the fabric of my shirt digging into my wrist. He wouldn’t let go, even when I cried out. He wouldn’t let go.”

Halley looked at Hope’s thin, down-covered arms. “What did he do?”

“He put the knife between his teeth. I can still see the white of his teeth on the knife.” Hope closed her eyes. “He rolled back my sleeve. I looked down, and my skin was so white. I remember being surprised that even in the dark my skin could look pale. It made it feel like it wasn’t even my arm. But it had to be, because I could see it had my bracelet on it, the silver bracelet I won riding Sampson over fences.”

Halley looked down at her wrist. The silver bracelet encircled it accusingly.

“He took it off, my bracelet. I remember the sound of it, the little click the catch made. The sound seemed significant.” Hope’s words came from far away, like she was talking underwater. “He threw it into the dark. I didn’t see it fall. It just disappeared. I remember wondering how I’d ever find it again.”

A long silence followed, and Halley realized Hope was waiting for her to say something. She didn’t want to. She wanted to get up and run away. She bit the inside of her cheek, and tried to think of something to say. “Did you fight him?”

Hope looked immediately ashamed. “I didn’t know what he was doing. I kept thinking maybe I was wrong. He was moving so slow, in almost…a…loving way…But when he started to move the knife towards my arm… God…I panicked…” Hope’s hands began to shake, and Halley held them tighter. She was shaking her head back and forth quickly, her face flushed. “I began to scream. But there was no one there to hear.”

She was talking faster now, as if she couldn’t stop the torrent of words. “But I kept screaming – I couldn’t help myself. Then I hit him – I hit him as hard as I could, but we were sitting too close for it to work. I tried to get my arm away. But he was too strong…” Hope’s eyes darted back and forth, as if she were seeing the scene all over again. Her breath came fast.

Halley didn’t say a word.

“I heard another sound. I heard his knife click – he’d closed it – he’d put the blade away. For a second, I thought it was okay, that I’d just over-reacted. Then I heard it click again. Open.”

Halley tasted bile in the back of her throat.

Hope’s voice flattened. It was like she was telling a story that had happened to someone else. “He lifted the knife. He placed the blade against my arm, up by that little hollow on the inside of my elbow.”

A tear ran down Halley’s cheek.

“He slid it down my arm, very slowly. It was almost gentle. I didn’t really feel it – he did it so softly, it didn’t hurt. But I saw the blood. A thin line of it. When I saw it, I heard myself scream again and my hand tried to pull itself away…it was wet with blood, so it nearly got away.” She paused. “I nearly got away…”

Halley couldn’t bring herself to ask what happened next, but it didn’t matter, as Hope continued anyway, without further prompting.

“He shoved me over. He pinned my arm down with his knees. Really fast, he ran the knife down my arm twice more, with more pressure than the first time. Maybe it was because I couldn’t keep still, but that’s when it really started to bleed, these three lines he’d carved in my arm.” Hope looked at her with hollow eyes. “It was like a brand. Like he was saying I was his property, and no one else could ever touch me. No one…no one…kind.”

This time Halley got the question out. “What happened next?”

“Everything turned black. I must have passed out.”

It was nearly dawn. Eden and Athena were asleep on the back lawn. The eagle kept its vigilant watch.

To Halley, it felt like they’d been sitting at the pinewood table forever. Her eyes felt scratchy and her body felt like it had been pummeled by rocks. “Let’s go outside,” she said, breaking their long silence. “Let’s sit on the front porch and watch the sunrise.”

She pushed her chair back. Hope stood as well.

Together, they walked through the kitchen door, which swung back and forth behind them, until settling closed. Opening the front door made the wind chime stir, and it sounded its inappropriately cheerful greeting. Halley reached up to still it.

Carefully, as if wounded, they sat down on the porch steps. The stars were visible, but the moon had set. On the furthest horizon was the slightest hint of dawn. The story wasn’t finished. “What happened when you woke up?” she said. She turned to look at Hope, who was also looking out at the sunrise.

Hope’s gaze moved from the horizon to the dandelions. “Dad was always so careful about this place. He would’ve hated those dandelions.”

Halley nodded. “Remember how mad he’d get when you blew them after they’d gone to seed? You couldn’t help it – ‘angel parachutes’, you called them – that’s why you did it. You thought you were helping the angels get to earth. But you never told him that…”

“Mm. Angel parachutes. But just look what a mess I’ve made of things,” Hope said, gesturing to the lawn.

A long silence sat heavily between them, a massive black rock. Halley put her hand on top of Hope’s. “You don’t think… Hope? You’ve got to know that nothing that happened was your fault. It wasn’t your fault.”

Hope shrugged her off. “Maybe if I’d fought back sooner…”

“He might’ve killed you. You did what you had to do.”

Hope didn’t respond.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Halley prompted. “What happened when you woke up?”

Hope reached over and pulled a stray piece of honeysuckle towards her. “I don’t think I ever
have
woken up,” she said quietly. “The next day, I couldn’t remember how I got hurt. I didn’t remember what he had done.”

“You didn’t remember? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. All I know is what Nick told me.”

“Which was?”

“He told me that I’d tried to kill myself.” Her fingers played with a loose strand of honeysuckle, tying it into small knots. “That he’d saved my life.” Without warning, she kicked hard at the porch railing. “I feel so fucking stupid!” There was a cracking sound as a bit of the old wood began to splinter.

Halley stood. The anger was good. She began to kick at the porch railing too.

Hope looked perplexed for a moment, like she’d been expecting Halley to scold her. Then she kicked harder, slamming into the wood again and again. With a crash, a section of the porch railing broke off, falling to the ground below.

Halley put a gentle arm around her and led her back to the steps. She waited until Hope’s breathing had become quiet.

“Tell me…

Hope bit her first finger, then balled her hand into a tight fist. Her voice sounded controlled, but barely. “When I woke up, I had a bandage on my arm. It hurt so much. I didn’t know what had happened. Nick was sitting next to me on the bed, wiping my forehead with a damp washcloth.” She took a deep breath. “It was a lovely navy blue, that washcloth. So soft. It was so comforting to wake with it being swept across my skin.” Hope touched her forehead with her fingertips, as if in remembrance of the feeling.

Halley didn’t speak.

“Like I said, I didn’t know what had happened. I saw the bandage on my arm, all clean and white, but I couldn’t remember how I’d hurt myself. Isn’t that ridiculous?” She looked up at Halley. “Stupid weak mind! If only I’d remembered then, I could’ve…”

Halley shook her head. “Your mind couldn’t handle what had happened. It did what it had to do, so you would survive.”

“I guess.”

Hope had picked up the honeysuckle vine again. She dug her fingernails through its stem, cutting off several inches at the end.

She threw it down the steps.

“So you didn’t know what had happened. But Nick knew. He knew he’d done it.”

Hope rubbed her face with her hands, as if wiping something away she couldn’t bear. She lifted her gaze to the lightening area of the dawn sky. “He told me I’d done it to myself,” she repeated. She got up and began to pace again. “But I’ve told you that part already. There’s no point in talking about it anymore.” She looked like she might kick down the rest of the porch railing, but she didn’t. Instead, she rubbed at the scars on her right arm, hard, as if she could erase them.

“Maybe there is.”

Hope shook her head, but spoke just the same. “He said…he said I’d brought my pocketknife with me, the one I always carry.”

Halley put her hand into her pocket and fingered the knife.

“He said I told him…I told him I thought he was going to break up with me. That I was crying, saying I couldn’t live without him, kept repeating it, like I was in a trance or something. I scared him, he said. The bastard!” She kicked the porch railing again and another piece of splintered wood flew into the air. “He tried to stop me, he said, but it happened too fast. I cut myself with my knife. I tried to kill myself.”

“It wasn’t true. You didn’t try to kill yourself.”

Hope’s face showed her doubt. “How do you know? For sure? Maybe I just invented that story about Nick doing it, to make me feel better.” She’d stopped kicking at the railing and stood very still. “I don’t know what’s true anymore. I don’t know what to believe.” She closed her eyes.

Halley drew her hand from her pocket. She was holding the pocketknife. With a practiced motion, she flipped it open and held up the blade.

Hope opened her eyes at the sound of the click, and took a quick step backwards.

“Don’t be afraid. I just want to show you…” Halley held out the knife, but Hope didn’t move closer. “Look. This blade is smooth – it would never make those scars you have on your arm…” To demonstrate, she drew the blade along one of the flooring boards of the porch.

Hope stepped forward cautiously, and looked at the fine straight line the blade had made, and, turning her arm over, compared it to her own serpentine scars. Bending down, she ran her finger along the straight line – her hand was shaking. “You’re right,” Hope said. She sat down heavily and let her arm fall into her lap. “But…”

“But what?”

“I believed him. Halley, I truly believed him…until just now… until you came and helped me remember the truth. Until you proved it to me. Oh my God. Believing him has shaped every moment of my life since that day. I thought…I thought I had decided I was worthless, that my life wasn’t worth living.”

“Why did you believe him?” Halley asked.

Hope sat absolutely still, and closed her eyes. When she spoke, it was like someone in the confessional asking for forgiveness.

“What he said made sense. Things weren’t right between us – I kept thinking we were going to break up, that I’d done something to make him stop loving me. It was easy to believe what he said. That I’d hurt myself.” Hope was silent for a long time, just rubbing the honeysuckle flower between her fingertips, looking down at the porch steps as if there were something of great interest lying at her feet.

“Why was it easy to believe you’d hurt yourself?”

“I’d tried once before…when things were bad between us. We’d had this huge fight…he said it was my fault, that if only I could behave better…then he could love me…” She swallowed. “He went out, slammed the door. There was this black hole right here, right in the center of my chest. I just wanted it to stop. For the pain to stop. I got my knife out. It looked dull. I didn’t know if it would be sharp enough. I meant to…I planned to cut myself…but I didn’t…I thought if I just waited…eventually, I just went to bed.” Hope’s eyes filled with tears and she held her fist to her mouth.

Halley put a hand on top of hers.

“You thought about it. But you didn’t do it.”

“No…so…”

“So that’s what’s important.”

Hope looked at her.

“What do you mean?” Hope sat up straighter.

“You didn’t do it. You never tried to kill yourself.”

“You know, you’re right. I never did. That is what’s important. I never tried to kill myself.”

“And even if you had, you are alive now. You have chosen life.” Halley paused. “So…what did Nick do next?”

“He was kind to me, from that morning on. He took care of me.” Hope placed her foot on the discarded flower and ground it into the porch. “He said he’d never tell anyone what I’d done.”

“No one noticed the bandages? What about Dad? Surely he’d have noticed?”

Hope deflated. “It happened six months after Dad died.”

Halley’s eyes moved back and forth: she knew this.

Hope continued. “We didn’t see any of our friends until the bandages came off. After that, I always wore long sleeves. That was his idea. By then, he had stopped being so nice – he told me our friends would think I was nuts if they knew. He said we should keep it ‘our secret’.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Yes.”

They sat in silence as the sky lightened.

Halley shook her head, and slid the bracelet back and forth on her arm. “Son of a bitch,” she repeated. She took a deep breath. “When did you meet Andy?”

Hope smiled. “A few months later. My cuts had healed. It was my best friend’s birthday – it was the first time I went out with her in ages. I remember we were dancing on this picnic table – it was an outdoor party – Andy just scooped me off and started dancing with me. I was so drawn to him. He seemed so… so light. I didn’t mean to kiss him. I really didn’t. Especially not after Nick…”

“After Nick had saved your life,” Halley finished flatly.

Hope nodded. “I’d never felt so guilty. I still loved Nick. But I couldn’t give up Andy. I kept reading Nick’s love poems, but I couldn’t feel anything at all. I cried all the time. I didn’t know what to do. It was the first time in my life I couldn’t hear the voice inside me. You know, the voice that always knew the right thing to do.”

“You couldn’t talk to your friends about it. So you took Sampson out.” Halley shifted her seat on the porch step; the boards were hard underneath her.

“I thought a ride would clear my head, help me think. Help me decide what to do.” Hope picked up the discarded honeysuckle vine.

“But you couldn’t get clear, because your mind had built that thing, that ‘fortress’ you drew in the notebook, to hide the truth. To keep the lie safe. To keep you sane.”

“That’s right,” Hope said, as if finally making the connection between her indecision and the repressed memory of Nick’s actions. “I couldn’t figure out
why
I couldn’t make up my mind. I just kept hearing the same thoughts over and over and over again, and it made me feel so weak, and so stupid.
I love Nick; I want Andy; I love Nick; I want Andy.
I was disgusted with myself. When that tree appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the path, it was like it’d been put there on purpose to punish me, for my stupidity, for not being able to make up my mind, for betraying Nick. For everything. When Sampson jumped, I could’ve stayed on – of course I could have. I was a great rider. But I just let go. I let myself fall off. I didn’t know how badly I’d get hurt.”

Halley rubbed the small of her back. “And you didn’t think there was much left to lose. When did you start checking the doors and windows?”

Hope was surprised. “Just recently. I’ve never told anyone about it. I was sure if I did, something dreadful would happen. Like it would make it not work. Isn’t that funny?”

Halley shook her head. “I do it too.”

“You do? But why?”

Halley didn’t answer.

Hope continued. “That man from the basement…at first, I just had nightmares about him. But now he’s started coming up the stairs, even when I’m awake. I can really see him. I must be crazy.”

“I saw him too,” Halley reminded her.

“I know.”

They looked at each other.

“Maybe Nick hurt you too.”

Halley turned to stare at Hope. Her eyes moved to Hope’s thin, white arms; her own were muscular, possessing life and vitality. She wore them like armor. Her gaze ran to her forearm, the back of her hand. The silver bracelet: Halley stared at it, and in that moment she could see it on the wrist of her own much younger self. She was once again riding Sampson, flying through the woods, innocent and free. She remembered the taste of freedom, the smell of dirt and leaves, the ringing of hooves on gravel.

It was the time before; she could finally remember the time before.

Without looking up, Halley turned her palm to face the sky, and rested her arm in her lap. She gently pushed the bracelet higher up her arm, and stared at the long red scars. They were identical to Hope’s. She ran two fingers up her arm, between the lengths of the scars.

Then she dropped her head into her hands and cried as if the world was ending.

Hope put her arms around Halley and held her tightly.

* * *

When the tears were finished, Halley looked up. The sun was high in the sky; the day was light.