Harrow Valley

The first time I saw the man in the red suit, I had just entered school.

The second time, I was just entering double digits.

When it did happen, I was sitting in my room. It was the only room I had been in, and it happened on basically the only street I had ever known, with my dad standing next to him. My family and I lived in Harrow Valley, Maine, sitting right on the border of Canada. I was able to have a little bit of French under my belt because of it, but my dad usually didn’t allow me to even go near them when they passed over into our town to get some things for a cheaper price. And it was smart of them to do that, because our sleepy little town knew that very well. Keeping things under wraps, and cheap. To be honest, I don’t know if there was a single day that I witnessed something out of the blue, like a rumor, it was always as contained as it could get. It was just one big high school. I wasn’t able to find the words to describe it back then, besides odd, but over the years I was able to maintain a good vocabulary to teach myself how the town I lived in was far from normal. My dad was a prime example of how the town acted. Civilized, but hot headed. It wasn’t the worst town, but from only what I saw on TV, nothing felt right.

There would be moments I would remember, of me in the store picking out snacks, and then a sudden blood curdling scream would burst out from a few isles over. All that would follow, was my mother or father escorting me out, while the rest of the adults in the store pooled towards the noise, while I fled. It would happen dozens of times, and my father would just say to not worry about it.

My father. He was one of the few people I remembered before leaving.

My father was a pleasant man to say the least, always being the type of dad you always wished to have, up until the end at least. The kind that tucked you in at night, never hit the mother, and was just awesome to hang out with. If it weren’t for the man in the red suit, I may have not been able to change my mind about that, and would’ve stayed. Closed off from everything else, and innocent. But like the rest of the town, he had one thing we knew at all times. His problems with anger had been a problem he had always had, and it was as short a fuse as they came. Every night with dinner, he had one big outburst that sent my brother, Gary, and I up to our rooms for the rest of the night, until he came up at about 8 o’clock to tuck in the sheets, while out hearts raced, thinking he might just snap like a whip again. We were stressed constantly around that man, but I couldn’t help but love him. Because, well, he was a sweetie. And he was our dad. He wasn’t the only one either, and that’s what made it okay. When Gary and I had started school, we had realized that just about every parent at that school was the same. They were the nicest people you could meet, and then they would just snap a pencil in half and start swearing like sailors. And no one stopped them. It was just a normal thing that they did. All the other kids hated it just as much as we did, but there was nothing we could do about it. But we still lived with it, because it was just the norm.

Harrow Valley had a huge suburban area, and the only people that I knew were from there. I never met instead outside the street, or my school. To be honest, I barely even saw anyone else. There was maybe 500 square miles of just houses, with a good 100 square miles of everything else.

And in none of it, was a store that sold red suits.

I kept that fact stuck in the back of my noggin for almost half a decade, since the night I first saw him standing in my driveway, drinking a cold drink and staring off across the street. It was after my first ever day of school, so I was in a mood of being bored and tired. So when I saw him, I just thought it was father out in the night. But then that thought hit me, that it was maybe the first time I had ever seen him out in the yard at night. Or just him out at night time.

Or anyone, ever, outside after the stars filled the sky.

As I said, I had just started school, so I was still barely old enough to understand the appeal of naps, at the age of, maybe, five or so. I was in my room, with the moon coming in through the window above me, while my VHS copy of The Rescuers was playing on the TV, with the volume almost completely gone. It was my usual night routine, to just watch movies until the Sandman put me under and then I’d have to go back to the real world of school and wonder how to fill in a circle.

But I couldn’t sleep, because there were always reasons not to for me. It would be either, I have a headache or I that I saw a monster in the closet. That’s what I always told my father. And rarely told my mother, but she didn’t care. She never did.

Before I saw anything, I need to mention this. My neighborhood, Legacy, sat right on the edge of the forests that went on for miles into Canada, with my house less than a football field away from that first pine tree. We always went in there, to just explore and see what we could find through the trees. It was always just sap and feathers.

Sap and feathers.

We wanted to get past that, but we couldn’t. Gary and I that is. The furthest we ever got was maybe only two miles one time, and that was it, before we had to turn back and get home so that we could start eating dinner. Almost every day we headed out, usually being joined by tons of other kids. They were just as eager to get out of their houses as us. Although with different reasons. That night, I stopped going into the Pines. None of us wanted to either, after I saw the man in the red suit.

When the noises started in the front lawn, it was probably ten o’clock. That was maybe the latest I’d ever stayed up, and to be honest, I felt supremely proud of that. It made me feel older to a degree, and almost more mature than all my friends. It was most likely something I would’ve bragged about to all of my friends the next morning, along with that snarly grin that most little kids give when they want to prove they’re better. I didn’t though, I don’t think.

The noises were dense, and heavy. It began quiet, and I could just nudge it off. But then it would just get quieter and louder intermittently

They didn’t sound right.

There was nothing but that, and that’s what made it seem wrong. No sound of the dishwasher running downstairs, not even the noise coming from the TV. Just a. . .

pit Pat pit Pat pit Pat.

And for those first few minutes, I could only listen. And the fantasies I created to get my parents off my back, started seeming more real. But like every kid, you have to be curious, and I slowly walked over.

My floor was cluttered, which made the wait even longer.

pit Pat pit Pat pit pat.

My heart feeling like a Native drum, ready to burst, and I could feel the meatloaf almost coming back up.

Was it just an animal?

Out that big window, a deer just doing something. Anything. The ideas were endless when it came to that noise, because that’s how it goes when you are met with something unfamiliar as all hell. Nothing comes to mind, but you can fill it in with context clues.

I had no clue, but that didn’t stop the shaking. It made it worse, and I was on the verge of pissing myself. Just one step at a time, I inched towards to see the view outside my window. The pines and the last row of houses was visible from my window, and never could you hear that noise.

pit Pat.

What the crap was it?

One step at a time Zoey, just one step at a time, I kept saying. I was about there, walking over all my toys and clothes. That moonlight coming through the far end.

But I didn’t have to be completely there at the window to understand what was happening, it was there at the edge. Right where the opposing houses met the ground, where my neighbor Harriet and I would play tea party, there was a dead man, flat on the concrete of the driveway. Blood pooling down past his legs, falling off into the storm drains that lined the streets. My heart got faster.

I could tell who it was almost right away, it was the neighbor Mr. Cardin. He was a dentist, but he was also Harriet’s dad, so I had to love him. There wasn’t a single bad memory I had with him, until then. Nothing else was in the driveway, which was odd, but his car was right on the side of the road, in front of the driveway. With the door open, and the lights on. It was a 1993 Subaru, from what I remember, and it was only used for when he went to work. There was no other reason to use it, and his wife would be the one that ran all of the errands during his day, so what else would he do with it?

Well, there were two problems with that. One, it was a Sunday. And two, he was on leave for the next two weeks due to an injury.

Now he was injured again. Or dead for all I knew. I could only stare. All of his clothes still looked fresh out of bed, with the stripes matching all over, to complete his pajama set. Except for the parts of stained cloth, where the blood met up.

It was like a painting, and I was just as confused.

And before anything else, I was stopped by the sight I remember most.

Mr. Red Suit himself.

At first, no one could probably see him if they had been where I was. Because he wasn’t exactly anywhere to be seen. It was pitch black outside already, with only the car door giving any clarity in confirming the event. But he was also hit by that light, while he stood up in the corner. A faint imprint of his scratchy beard was noticeable. The Cardins had a small tomato patch in their front yard, just under the Oak tree in the middle of the yard, and that’s where he stood. Under the shade, with just a sliver of light hitting his suit, while he stood watching.

Just watching.

My first instinct was to duck, which is exactly what I did. Quickly, I just dropped to where my eyes were able to see him, and the edge of the window sill. He was still standing high and mighty. And I felt shriveled up, and wanting to know more. What was he doing? What was wrong with Mr. Cardin?

Could he be dead?

Like that bad guy that fell from the tower at the end of dad’s favorite movie. When he just hit the ground, and was no longer alive. He was only an object that would be planted like a tomato seed. Red and all.

I could feel a tear coming down from my eye, and I just had to get dad. Dad, dad, I have to go get him. He’ll probably hit me again about waking me up, but Mr. Cardin could’ve been extremely hurt. There was blood running from his head to his puffy blue slippers. Until I looked back from Mr. Cardin, back to the man in the red suit, to meet his eyes. The entirety of him was now in the light, with just a small sliver of darkness creeping up his legs. But his eyes could glow like stars even the dark, white tint and all.

His suit, was just as red. But his eyes, they were what took away all.

There was no innocence. Like they could take a life, and have afternoon tea right after with his mom, and discuss the latest episode of Jeopardy!

His eyes stayed on me, while I stayed still at the window, on the edge of screaming. No break between, just one continuous take of his, of his eyes. They stayed on me for as long as I could remember. How did he see me?

The pattering then finally stopped. And he looked away, lighting a cigarette in his boney fingers. They were as white as that suit was red.

Red.

Mr. Cardin was red.

I had to get dad. It was the only course of action. Or maybe I should’ve called the police, I didn’t know. I may have been smart for my age, but I didn’t have good common sense to every regard. But at least I knew to take action when it came to stuff like that.

My tiny feet started running across the floor, flipping over dirty clothes and my dolls, while my pigtails flew through the wind. He was watching. I could feel that glare still getting through my head, and that urge came. That one I now know was dumb and stupid. It was the urge to turn back, and see if he was still there, and hadn’t just run. I don’t know where the logic was at the time, but it was somewhere up in my noggin, making all of the rules. So as I stopped, I turned my head over my shoulder. He was still there alright.

Staring at me, just from the edge of the window, standing on the little bit of slack that jutted out into the night air. His suit was now crimson, and blending into the air along with him. The smile he had complimented it greatly.

I stopped. Stunned. He couldn’t have been able to get up the window nearly that fast, especially from where he was at. There was just no possible way.

Then before he was gone, he was father. Not in looks, but maneuvers. His hand raised up near his smile, and he wagged his finger at me. Each time it hit one side, my heart would stop. Based on logical science, I should’ve been dead. And when he stopped, he was gone. No shuffling in the wind, no final word, no breaths left in the air. Just a jumpcut to a moment when he wasn’t there. Nothing was there anymore, but the view of the woods. And those woods howled at me.

In silence, I made my way to the window again, sobbing my eyes out, while looking at the tops of the pine trees while I made my way to get a better view. My eyes gazing across every which piece of land in sight, just looking for that man again. And better listen, at the howling.

Each top was swaying from an invisible wind, and staring at me. I felt the trees, looking through me, at the door. The place I couldn’t touch, or go through. It was as useful as the walls surrounding me.

Noises, terrible, noises came from those pine needle filled things, and one that I could hear, heard raspy. It had a smokers voice embedded in it.

pit Pat pit Pat pit Pat.

That god damn noise was back. My feet were planted at that window, and my eyes stayed stuck at the invisible wind while it worked it’s magic. Enchanting my mind to think everything was okay. There was something totally wrong, I knew that. Everyone had to have known that.

Same repeating thoughts kept making me go insane.

And then at the edge of the wooded gland, I saw the red suit glistening in the moon light. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, only ahead. It was a slow walk, and he had a skip in his step. Nothing looked to bother him. Even for as far away as he was, I could still see the lit cigarette hanging from his lip, while he just went on a casual stroll. To him, it looked like nothing had happened, he just killed a man and scared a little kid.

And that was it for the night.

While he disappeared into the woods, I stayed staring, slowly calming down from the state that made my hands shake, and my heart beat like a V8 motor speeding down the I-84.

Although I didn’t see him for a number of years, I didn’t forget him.

And I was ready.

My birthday was on December 6th, and the year it happened was 2001. By then, the fear was more tame. I didn’t wait at the door with a scalpel, waiting to skin him. No, but I was still scared beyond belief.

By that time on my birthday, he was still just a transparent thought in my head. It lingered in all of my dreams, but nothing came of those. No psychic crap that could always come up, they were just regular old nightmares. And he was in every single one, letting me know he’d come back.

Nowadays, I just think of those few years as my ‘revival period’.

During which, I studied and learned more about the town than anything else in the world. My VCR didn’t get touched unless it was on city structure, and corrupt governments, which I happily rented from the library down on Turtle Street. All just said the same, that nothing was unusual in a way that it couldn’t be explained. There was that theory though, that he was part of something bigger. That maybe he was a bounty hunter, a dirty cop, something that existed. But not in my town. Not in Harrow Valley. That town wasn’t that bad, but then again, I wasn’t allowed to know too much that happened there in the first place. So maybe those were the facts, or maybe it was just as creepy as I always saw it. A town where leaving your house after dark was taboo. Nothing was clicking, so I read even more.

By the time I hit Hitler’s favorite number, I knew almost everything about the town. Most of it being ‘classified’ to my age group, but that I had snuck out of libraries and school offices. The layout, the buildings, even the burned part of town we called ‘Eastwick’, all was etched into my skull. And it was terrible, but it made a few things click.

Example, for one, I found that there are only two registered cops in the town. It was a small town, only being about one square mile in total, but two cops still wasn’t right for a town of any kind.

And as I read more, the history was where I knew most about how to deal with it.

The town had been created in the 1600s, as one of the small settlements of the original colonies, but had failed to thrive. This was due in fact, because of many of the witch accusations in the town, making it a bad summer house location for some wanting to migrate. The remaining people there lived in very fine containment for a long time, up until then. For a few hundred years it stayed under, until the town started working off being just one of those small towns you read in a book your uncle would read on the can. Nothing about it was special, except that their main export was potato farming, something I never saw, and that it was rarely ever visited.

That I knew.

Then, in 1954, the town picked up a little bit of traction. After the war had ended in Korea, a large sum of people started moving up into Harrow Valley. There were maybe only about two hundred people there at the time, but by 1960, we had almost three thousand. Over the years, it grew even more into a solid eight thousand folks living peacefully in a town that no one even really knew about. Then that was it. All of that info I was receiving, came mostly from a book called The Small Towns of Maine by Fredrick Wodehouse. And at that page, there was nothing left, only a huge group of papers torn out half hazardly, giving a clear view of the next chapter, all about Hallowell. It always pissed me off that it wasn’t in alphabetical order.

I went back to the library constantly to try and find more, continuously getting looks of disgust from all the adults. They all just had that glare, but never did anything. I was still only nine, but there was something wrong with it. And I knew if I asked my parents, I’d get more questions than answers. And as more time passed, the town just stayed quiet, but it got silently louder to me. Suddenly, everything was staring at me at all times. Every book stacked under my bed added up to something being off.

Saying the town was off, was like saying 9/11 was a little bit bad.

We celebrated my birthday at a Chuck E Cheese’s, the Saturday following my birthday, on December 8th. The entire family rented out a room, and along with them and a few of my other friends that came, we played and ate for almost six whole hours. Thanks to the lack of people in the town, the Chuck E Cheese’s wasn’t entirely packed, with only maybe five or six other families goofing around in the play area. My dad had taken off work from the factory that day, so he could pick up the cake and bring it over, while my mom handled most of the other stuff. We booked it all, she had pizza brought over, and each kid got a pocket full of tokens and a big smile covering their sauce filled faces.

My friend Tonya and I spent a majority of it talking about boys in the food room, while all the others acted like gorillas on the jungle gym and in the ball pit. All of the other parents stayed by the door, sitting in tables and drinking the beers that they had snuck in to the place. Each of them, each and every parent, made sure to give me that same glance that I had been getting for years already. After about an hour of talking like that though, we decided to join them in their quest to act as much like children as possible.

A few times throughout, we had to stop though, to avoid vomit.

It was dark once the party was finally over. The flied were buzzing around the pizza remains, and ice cream stained every shirt, along with a little party hat stuck to my hair.

All of the kids left at the same time, going off back to sleep while their parents watched The Sopranos as they drifted off. My parents had to stay a little longer to help clean up, as well as me and Gary. We just helped wipe up, and then left when the clock struck ten o’clock. It was understandable, considering we had all been as tired as a mule since six.

Our drive home consisted of Gary and I trying to stay awake, and watch the empty streets all across town. Not a single car, not a single jogger, just darkness. I would stay leaned against the glass, and try and find somebody outside. That was my version of iSpy, except I was on the hunt for people not colors. And during those fifteen minutes, I couldn’t get past the first round of the game.

We got home a quarter past eleven, with everyone beat as hell. It took a good few minutes for any of us to actually get a step out of the car, and when we did, the trip took maybe another half hour with us trying to make it to the front door.

The rest was blank, until I fell into bed, and woke up a few hours later.

pit Pat pit Pat pit Pat pit.

My head rose from the pillow, with my mind still both groggy and filled with marinara sauce and flat Coke. The noise stopped before I was even able to process it, and remember where I had heard it before. As I peered up, once again it was just the view of a pitch black room with the moon shining in through the window, and the blinds taking up most of the space there.

A quick view of the clock let me know that it was three in the morning, just getting off of two. As a kid, that blew my mind instantly, as being up that late was like taking a sip of alcohol without your parents knowing. The analog hands changed a minute, and I turned my head onto the other side of the pillow. What a great birthday, huh Zoey, it was really great, I thought to myself.

pit Pat.

Nothing could’ve stopped my heart to instantly start pounding like a hammer onto nails. Each eyelid shot open one by one, since my brain decided to not be awake enough. Thankfully, that noise changed everything for a certain part of my brain. That feeling washed over again, of pure unadulterated fear. Slowly, I moved the sheets, and turned to keep my eyes on that window sill. They didn’t leave for the entire minute that I took to get ready. To get ready for him.

When it had first happened, a few years earlier, my mind went immediately to prepping myself in any way possible. Using my resource of only movies and books, I set up a few things that my parents would have no idea of. For one, I started keeping a weapon under my bed. It was only a meat tenderizer, but we never used it since my mother was a vegetarian. It was jammed in between my bed frame and mattress, right next to the clothes. To blend in, I knew I had to stay as hidden from him as possible. A bunch of my clothes were bright colors, with rainbows or just kittens on them, making about as clear to see as the man in the red suit. So, about a year after, I managed to smuggle in some spray paint, colored some old clothes black, and let them dry in the back of the school parking lot, where no one could question it. It took a lot of sneaking around, since every adult was almost watching my every move. But once it was done, it was perfect.

They sat waiting under the sheets.

pit Pat.

The sheets flew from atop my bed, smothering the floor below, and I jumped out as quietly but as quickly as possible. My heart beating faster and faster as time went on. Almost to the beat of his pit Pattering. The mattress lifted up, with the view of my contraband underneath, and I threw it out before letting the mattress lightly fall. My eyes stayed at that window.

Due to time, and fear, I just put everything on over my pajamas. I didn’t care. I just wanted to finally end this, and stop whatever he was trying to accomplish at this point. And to avenge Mr. Cardin. My tiny hand gripped the tenderizer to the point that you could see the Kitchen Aid logo etched into my hand.

For a minute I stared at the sill. It was cold, and windy.

Sweat was pouring down my face, making my matted hair even worse.

With another breath, I started walking to the window, taking long breaths to be prepared.

What if he’s there Zoey? He could be waiting for you, I kept thinking. In response, I would say, shut the hell up.

The floor was cluttered, but I managed. There were less toys on the ground, but more dirty clothes and books. Each and every single one of them had the honor of being overdue at the local library by almost a week or two.

My hands began shaking.

He’s there Zoey.

I was about a foot from the window, when it already didn’t feel right. There was a bright light emanating from the street, and some more noise that I somehow didn’t hear from bed, because as soon as I was right at the edge, it sounded like a roaring train. Hundreds of voices yelling out at each other, and all sounding familiar. The tenderizer went limp with my arm, and just hung there while I walked even closer. The light getting brighter, my heart getting faster.

What has he done? How can you of all people stop it?

SHUT UP!

Then I was there. Right at the place where the window met the wall, that met the piece of floor that my feet were stuck in. And it would be safe to say, I had no chance in the matter that night.

Below me, in the street, were almost every adult that may have been in town. Dozens of parents sitting in perfect rows leading to the center, right in front of my house. I couldn’t even see the human nature in them at that point, they looked like robots. Stuck in a pattern that went against the thoughts that were seen to belong to a normal person. Almost like something from an Issac Asimov novel. Just machines, staring into the exact center of nothing. Only there was something. Something that made me drop the tenderizer and just stare in horror. Right in the middle, was the Man in the Red Suit, and my father, talking up a storm to the others. My father was doing most of the talking, while he just stood there staring with a smile. And in between them, was a body. Not just some random homeless guy that they had taken from downtown, but a French man that I had seen in the stores a few times already. He was laid out on the flat bed of a pick up truck, with his face beaten to a bloody pulp and with an arm missing. The sight almost made me puke into the clothes I had right next to me. But my gaze was stuck on that image.

“This man, is impure. He who follows god is not a man we can trust! He only takes what he wants, and gives what we don’t want! While we are the Devil’s children, people that do and take what they want, but give back endless treasures!” I heard my father yell. An instant cry of agreement.

It still made no sense. None of this did. After the dozens of books I read, it was complicated as a Where’s Waldo? book without Waldo. Were they sacrificing him? Unless, the witch accusations were true. That was the only way I could piece anything together, was that nothing had changed. And why nobody new came here, and stayed. Or why everything after the 50s was ripped from the book. I looked back down.

The Man stayed still, but kept the smile.

“Let this be a lesson to those! To those like Joshua Gacy, Issac Ingram, and even to those like the sickening Zachary Cardin. They had poisoned people—”

Mr. Cardin?

I was instantly sick to my stomach, and on the verge of puking up everything from Chuck E Cheese’s. It all came out in one go all over my tea party set, and numerous T-shirts, in a color resembling old baby food. Coughing the rest out, I couldn’t help but notice the lack of sound going on below me in the streets. No chanters at all were making noise. It was pure silence, and I grabbed the tenderizer again from the floor, too scared to even kneel back up to look. But I did. Kids really are stupid, aren’t they?

While I got higher up, feeling the light that was shining into the sky, I could start seeing every adult. Every single one, with their eyes staring right at me. Each glare over the past few years had meant nothing compared to this. Each pair, staring right into my soul with deadly intent. And right in the center of it, was my father and the Man, giving me a big smile.

“You should’ve stayed in bed sweetheart!”

And then nothing but silence, except for a pit Pat.

He was walking towards the house, coming for me. It was something bigger, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. Everything made since in that regard. I shouldn’t have known.

You’re dead Zoey.

You’re dead Zoey.

They’re gonna kill you Zoey.

“Love you Zoey!” My dad yelled out. Tears were streaming down my face in terror. I wasn’t prepared in the slightest for this. Not at all. Anything else would’ve been better than what I was dealing with. Worshipers that are okay with killing kids, or their own kids for that matter.

My grip got tighter.

Then I stopped, and took in the view. The woods. I knew those trees like the back of my hand as a kid, the numerous hours I would spend running through them looking for some kind of new animal, or fungus, only to just get about half way through and have to turn back. It was the best chance I had to get away from them. Death was the only thing on their minds, I was young, but I was smart enough to know that that was what was happening in their heads. That someone found out, and no one can find out.

So I ran.

Faster than I’ve ever ran in my life, to the door, down the hall, and down the stairs. I could hear the pounding on the windows, all the chanting, everything. It was crystal clear. And the Man was about to be here to take me away to Neverland. All of the first floor foray, was completely lit up by the fire, or flashlights, or whatever the hell, from outside the windows. The silhouettes from each and every person from the street. Each blood curdling scream from their throats, each, “KILL THE REPENTER!”

I ran for the back door. I kept thinking of the problem of getting to the woods. It was in the direction of the street, meaning I would’ve had to get through everyone there with nothing. They could easily grab me and kill me right then and there. My strength was useless compared to their’s. That was off the table.

I rounded the living room wall, into the kitchen, where the back door was in view.

But then again, I could jump fences for a few blocks, up until I hit Brook Street, and I could just head North from there, using the construction to my advantage to slow them down. All the holes in the ground, and all of the caution signs would give me maybe an extra five minutes or so to gain a lead into the forest.

I hit the door, and flew it open into the yard. There was surprisingly know one there, that I knew of. No chances, I said to myself, and turned towards the neighbors, and started running for their low barring fence. Everyone was still up front, making noise and acting not like townsfolk that I knew. Not people that my parents were friends with, not the parents of my friends, but the spawns of something worse than I ever could’ve imagined. When studying, I had just hoped for a bunch of escaped convicts or something. Nothing like this.

I hopped Mr. Dreyfuss’ fence, and ran through his garden aiming for Mrs. Irene’s yard.

My legs started to burn, and my throat started closing. The cold felt like I was inhaling pure glass.

There was a noise following me, but I couldn’t turn back. It was the man, I just knew it was. There was no pit Pattering, but there was since of dread and a hope that you never see the entity that possess that presence.

“Keep running Zoey. Please.” I whispered to myself, under the panting.

Over the next fence I went.

The chanting got slightly quieter, but stayed constant. They were following slowly.

The night sky clogged my throat, and I my heart was almost as constant as their chanting of nonsense. The tenderizer stayed in my hand, gripped into my palm. The STOP sign for Brook Street was coming into view, under the street lamp that stood above it. As I watched it, a thought hit me. This had been the first time I had been outside the house after dark, and it was under the worst circumstance possible.

My feet jumped onto the fence, off it, and landed onto the concrete of the community pool. It was right at the end of our street, sitting shoulder length away from Mrs. Irene’s. I always hated the damn place, it smelled like bleach and tasted like glue.

My bare feet were already feeling the blisters appearing, but stopping was death.

One two three. One two three.

My heart kept moving, winning the gold over my feet in the process. The pool sat completely still under the vinyl, with an occasional whoosh came from underneath. Dodging the pool, I ran along the sides, having the painful stench of bleach burn my nostrils while something else filled the air. Another sound hit the concrete, I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. It was Him.

I kept running faster, my tears compromising my vision.

The burning in my legs got worse. They felt like exhaust pipes about to blow out.

Another sound. A click to a hard surface. Keep running Zoey, you can make it. Blood was starting to run down my foot, the trickling was barely noticeable, but I knew it was happening. The other side of the gate was coming up, sitting with all of the pool supplies lying aside it, and with the lifeguard station right in front. The bleach was killing me. My feet tripped over each other, each toe snapping and rubbing against the concrete, making blood spurt out from each knuckle. The adrenaline kept the pain from going through though. It was just a small cut to my nerves, and everything was focused on—

nothing.

In that split moment, I felt nothing but the wind through my hair, after I saw a shape caress by my face and reach close and fast. My vision went up, and watched the sky as I slowly fell into something. I was in no place to notice what it was, until it literally hit me. My entire backside came into contact with the vinyl cover, and a few drops of water hitting my face from the open edge. The stars continued to whirl, until I finally came to notice what as happening. I sat on the very thin layer between me and possibly death. It was closer than anyone could imagine. Just the slightest shift in weight could push me under, and make me drown in a webbing of darkness. My breathing got higher, and I panicked. My breathing got faster, my legs became numb, and I just stayed completely still.

Then while one leg stayed numb, I felt the stinging in the other.

It was burning, and then it was in pain, and then it was howling like a wolf during a full moon. It was scorching. Trying my best to move it, I came to no avail, but looking down at least I knew why. It wasn’t a spontaneous stroke, it was a gaping hole in my lower leg, painting the vinyl in crimson. It looked like a bullet hole, something out of an episode of CSI. It hurt. I felt tears running down my face now from that, and not just from Dad. It was running up my leg, and the movement from the other leg made it worse.

pit Pat pit Pat pit Pat.

I stayed looking up. At the stars, the tops of trees, and my breath as it left into the air above me. I just tuned out the noise. I knew what it was.

One two three. One two three.

I could’ve said it a thousand times, but my body wouldn’t listen. I kept breathing as fast as a machine gun.

And it got faster, when I saw Him there. The man in the red suit, standing on the edge of the pool, staring with a smile, and his hands in his pockets. If anything, I looked more like Frank Sinatra than a killer. That smug grin, that feeling of coolness, and his overall style. The bad posture, everything. But it all got canceled out, by that damn suit. And the memory of him standing next to Mr. Cardin.

“Hello darling.”

That’s the only thing he said. The voice echoed in an environment where it shouldn’t have. Like his mouth was a cave, and he talked through it only to reach others. It was crisp and cool, but as scratchy as a record.

“Pl—lea—plea—please sir—sir. D—d—don’t do this.” I stuttered. Maybe thinking that he would sympathize with a little kid, is the reason I asked that. I knew enough to know he wouldn’t, but it was all I could do. I was useless. He just started smiling some more, and started undoing the hooks on the vinyl. All along the side, they popped off. With each pop, my heart double in speed. It was the end to me, and I couldn’t do anything or else it would be faster.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

The vinyl slid under the water slowly, first taking my arm, and I felt myself slipping under, with the meat tenderizer going under first.

“Your pops says hi darling.”

I felt the tears continue to run down my face, while he just walked off. No looking back. It was his game, and he knew how I’d play out always. With him winning, and that damn smile. I felt my leg shaking, and then I started taking action once the water hit me. Swimming wasn’t possible, so I moved as fast as I could. It was cold, colder than the Bushwick. It crept into my clothes, and under my skin, and like it was fire, I reacted as if I was oil. It was stupid to me at the time. He was gonna kill me as soon as I hit the concrete, but I had a plan.

A plan made by a ten year old, but a plan nonetheless.

As soon as his feet were in the same vicinity to the fence door leading out, I rolled over into the water and grabbed the side as quietly as possible, the metal of the tenderizer clinking against the stone. I didn’t have to look to feel his glare. The alligator shoes stopped dead, and he turned, rustling his red coat and sending a smile across his face.

Go, go, go, Zoey, hurry. Ten seconds to go time.

I shuffled up as quick as I could, still sore as the dickens, and inhaling as much air as I possibly could. It did almost no good from the water, but I kept going as fast as I could. The burning making me drop with every movement.

8 seconds.

Up onto the concrete, water dripping. pit Pat pit Pat pit Pat. He was walking over, I was on the edge panting like a dog while gripping onto my only protection. Each step was another second closer to death.

7 seconds.

6 seconds.

He was almost there. Fire gripped my legs, so I stayed still. It was part of the plan despite what could happen. My vision was blurry, and everything was just a solid color of grey or black. And a red silhouette, coming in from the foreground. Inching closer than death. In fact, he was death in human form.

5.

4.

My grip got tighter, and I looked up as he was right there. “Damn, you got some moxie darling.”

3.

2.

After ten years, I still have no clue what happened when one second was left.

Nor the aftermath of anything in that town.

When I woke up, after that moment of staring the devil in the eye while he held a .45 and looked at me with deadly intent, I was in the woods. No idea where in it, but I knew I was in the woods that connected to Harrow Valley. There was the same stench of rotting maple and pine leaves. Everything in between the two moments was black, until I was there, sitting up against a log with fear still gripping me like a pissed father. My father. That poor soul, doing apparently what he loved doing in he last moment that I saw him. That wasn’t exactly on my mind at the time I woke up. None of it was. Just me asking, ‘where am I?’ and ‘what happened?’. The thought of my father didn’t appear until I started walking through the woods.

At the time I woke up, it looked like it had only been about an hour later. But for all I knew, it could’ve been days later. Time didn’t exist during the time, I could only comprehend a single dotted line of consciousness that at least remembered that time was a factor in the real world. The night was still shining on upon my blood splattered clothes and wound. Blood splattered clothes, that was one of the only things that I could almost actually remember from what happened. It was blurry as all hell, but there was that faint image of Him coming up towards me, my arm swinging, and his head diving towards the ground.

That was it.

I didn’t remember any of that until maybe a year after, when I was in the boarding school down in North Carolina. There was just nothing there for so long, except for my trek back. And it was a unnerving and disgusting, not being able to piece it together.

That was the hardest night of my life. It was in pure silence, and I was walking the best I could to get out of those woods. The quiet woods. No crickets, not deers, there was nothing but the wind and my cries for help as my leg continued shooting itself with each step. Using a stick was helpful, but there was that continuous stinging that lingered for the four days I was out there, eating berries and drinking rain water to stay afloat. For being so young, I’m always surprised on how resourceful I was. I was smart, but that just went among that, I thought. Some adults don’t even have that push to keep going and yet I did before even hitting puberty. For those days, I kept telling myself to keep going and I succeeded in the end of it all. Even when the snow hit the forest, about a day in, and kept going the entire way through. The nights were the hardest for that, because not being able to wake up was a totally viable possibility.

From my own account, it was December 14th when I hit the first road. Snow had stopped, and a long strip of something other than mud and water had hit my bandaged bare feet. Frostbite had hit the ankles already, making it not as bad, but still terrible. But there it was, civilization. It was veering off from some small town in New Hampshire called Berlin. It was very sleepy compared to Harrow Valley, with cars not running as frequently, but the people along the streets were more lively and talkative to everyone. It was more friendly.

I had come out on Valet St, a road connecting to an old farm and spanning itself all the way to Vermont. It was pitch black out when I got there, and there wasn’t a single car in sight. For another hour, I wobbled along side the street, making my way through the snow and up the concrete. Still not a single car drove along it. And then up ahead, I saw why.

There had been an accident up on the road, an eighteen wheeler head-on collided with a small Nissan, and completely eviscerated both the car, and the road, cutting it deep into the dirt. When I had come onto the road, I must’ve not seen the original sign keeping cars from coming onto the road. But it was okay, because the town was just in view, through the pitch black air, I saw the shining lights of the small town, and kept walking.

Once in the town, I was picked up fairly quickly.

A nice young couple, both most likely artists based on how they were dressed, had been coming back from a dinner date at Gino’s Italian Restaurant, when they saw me walking on the sidewalk, letting the lights of the done up Christmas themed toy store create a silhouette of my shivering, numb, and bleeding body. Each color complimenting each part of my body, with the red light shining directly on my legs. It helped to illuminate my situation.

The girl, who I eventually found out went by Nancy Vanderveen, called the police while the guy, Jonathan Critchlow, took me into a warm place and kept me alive. I honestly owe everything to those people after. If I had seen no one that night, I might have given up, right there on the steps of Sanson’s Holiday Bonanza!!!

Within an hour, I was at the hospital, in the middle of surgery.

Not once did my parents call when they got word that they found me. It was surprising really, because it would have been the perfect opportunity to finally finish me. In the middle of me having a mini coma on the second floor of the Androscoggin Valley Hospital. But they never did. And I was okay with that, well, of course I was.

I was in a coma for a week after that.

When you wake up from a coma, it’s just a long nap you wake up from. Nothing seems different, it’s just a normal thing waking up. Until you hear the people saying the date, and what has happened with you, and you’re shocked. Terrified even.

This came from a Nurse Smalls to me, someone on call during the middle of the day at the hospital, along with the young couple. They had stayed with me for the entirety of the time, and were there when I woke up. When the nurse saw that I had finally woken up, she immediately paged a Doctor Major, and started going over the checklist to see if I was okay. They had done surgery on me, fixing my leg that was almost basically hanging my a few pieces of skin, and helped save my feet from the frostbite. I was on something, so I was more loopy than usual, but it all seemed clear. Including Nurse Smalls. She had the sweetest eyes, even if they were for the intent for saving mine from closing.

There was the whole thing, ‘Look to the left’ and ‘how are you feeling?’ along with just basic kindness, and awe coming from her. And they hadn’t even known anything. From the second I got to the hospital until now, I had been asleep and as quiet as could be. My lips were frozen shut from the cold. That and the room, which stayed at a high temperature, still felt as cold as the outside, except with the small sun in the center of the room, hanging by a metal chain.

“What’s your name sweetheart?” Doctor Major asked. He was a burly guy, but he looked to be the most up for it doctor I had ever met. His hair was made up but ratty, he hadn’t shaved in a little while, but not too long, and ave an exasperated breath every time something bad came up.

“Zoey. Zoey Carver.” It felt weird talking, my tongue feeling completely numb and my teeth rattling. The pain spiked with every movement.

“Zoey, do you know where your parents are?”

I nodded my head.

“Can you tell us?” He asked. For a brief second, I thought about it. That was the only place I ever knew, and it would be my only safe haven. “No, they wanna kill me.” I responded.

Shocked silence filled the room. Air was leaving and everyone stayed still. I mean, how else do you react when a kid that young says something like that. If they said that they just didn’t know, it would be okay. Within a day, they could have info that could them into contact with the families. But I wanted them to know. To know that I can’t go back. If I do, it’s death.

“Sweetheart, where are you from?” Nancy asked.

“Harrow Valley, Maine.” I responded. I wasn’t surprised that none of them had heard of it. It wouldn’t have been shocking to even see that it wasn’t on a map. In those days of thinking and staying alive, that was definitely one of the topics I thought on.

“Do you have anyone that you can call?” Doctor Major asked.

I shook my head.

He sighed into his scrubs, and gave a sad look. There was just a blank expression of just thinking on his face, and disappointment that this was the case they were dealing with. His five o’clock shadow was bunched up on his chin, and he just looked at me. Almost like a dad, thinking over the story his daughter just told him. It was a face I had only seen in movies.

He only exchanged a glance with Nurse Smalls, and looked at me, giving me more comfort than he intended. It was what I needed more than morphine, more than Gary, and more than just food that wasn’t straight off of a tree. I never knew why, at that exact time, why I gravitated towards him so much. At the time of me writing this now though, I know it was because he was maybe the first person that seemed to care about me my entire life. My dad had the sense that he did, but never showed it truly, and my mom was just completely absent from almost everything. She was a ghost, and he was a phantom. And yet sitting with an IV in my arm, and a cast around my leg, I was in less pain.

After that week, I was let out. Right back into a court room.

Since I was completely off the grid, they had no clue what to do with me. I was a lost cause according to all of the bureaucrats in the chambers.

Still no words from me came out.

There were weeks of silence, even when I was taken in by the couple.

My lips were frozen shut, for as long as I was able to keep them closed for.

Not a single word came from Harrow Valley. Not a single relative called to see if I was okay. It wasn’t shocking, but it wasn’t what I expected. I expected a quick visit, a slash to the throat, and a road trip back to the land of mystery and crimson water running through the irrigation of each and every ‘family’ household.

And to my luck, nothing ever came about of that town again.