I dreamt I was camping with my family and friends in another state.
The air was thin with pine and smoke, and our tents looked small against the dark wall of the forest.
While we were hiking away from camp, I met a man. He leaned close and warned me not to trust the forest guard, but the glint in his eyes and the pitch of his deceptive voice betrayed him. I knew I shouldn’t trust him either. His attention lingered on me, unwanted. He observed me like you would observe a thing. He offered to rent us cottages hidden deeper in the woods for a good price, and I agreed because it was getting too windy.
When I returned to the tents, my friends were already laughing, teasing me about his interest. They always do, and I always find it suffocating. My mother was there alive again and though she frowned at how I spoke to a man, she wanted us to stay in the cottages, grateful for the arrangement.
Later, I invited the man to a barbecue. As he wnt off to fetch coal, I wandered to his porch. The furnace there was still bit warm, and scattered near it were bones some I identified as human. My heart tightened, but I kept my face still. I walked back calmly to my medical kit, and prepared drugs. When he returned, I dosed him swiftly. His friend came soon after, and I did the same.
For a moment, the thought of killing them pressed against my mind like a blade, but I chose instead to trap them at the bottom of the well. To give my loved ones more time to escape.
I ran to warn everyone, but they lounged about, careless, not believing me, not even lifting their heads and those who did telling me it is my PTSD.
The dread in me grew so much: what if more accomplices came through the trees? So I told them I had already drugged and killed the man and his friend.
Only then did panic. They stumbled, scattered, some trying to save themselves, gathering everything to leave, others trying to sever all ties to me and blaming me for being too violent and telling me I need to go to the police as soon as we arrive at the nearby town. They didn't care why I would kill him, only that I have. And I was thinking how little I can count on anyone here and how often I have to treat them like fools to get them to do the right thing.
While we were hiking away from camp, I met a man. He leaned close and warned me not to trust the forest guard, but the glint in his eyes and the pitch of his deceptive voice betrayed him. I knew I shouldn’t trust him either. His attention lingered on me, unwanted. He observed me like you would observe a thing. He offered to rent us cottages hidden deeper in the woods for a good price, and I agreed because it was getting too windy.
When I returned to the tents, my friends were already laughing, teasing me about his interest. They always do, and I always find it suffocating. My mother was there alive again and though she frowned at how I spoke to a man, she wanted us to stay in the cottages, grateful for the arrangement.
Later, I invited the man to a barbecue. As he wnt off to fetch coal, I wandered to his porch. The furnace there was still bit warm, and scattered near it were bones some I identified as human. My heart tightened, but I kept my face still. I walked back calmly to my medical kit, and prepared drugs. When he returned, I dosed him swiftly. His friend came soon after, and I did the same.
For a moment, the thought of killing them pressed against my mind like a blade, but I chose instead to trap them at the bottom of the well. To give my loved ones more time to escape.
I ran to warn everyone, but they lounged about, careless, not believing me, not even lifting their heads and those who did telling me it is my PTSD.
The dread in me grew so much: what if more accomplices came through the trees? So I told them I had already drugged and killed the man and his friend.
Only then did panic. They stumbled, scattered, some trying to save themselves, gathering everything to leave, others trying to sever all ties to me and blaming me for being too violent and telling me I need to go to the police as soon as we arrive at the nearby town. They didn't care why I would kill him, only that I have. And I was thinking how little I can count on anyone here and how often I have to treat them like fools to get them to do the right thing.
