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By the volume of his booming voice, he’s close again. He had to have dug this hole but how did he know I would come this way? Mulling over this information, it’s hard not to come to the conclusion that before I stepped foot in this wretched forest, my destiny was predetermined. I was never going to make it out of these woods. He knew I'd fail.
I can’t worry about what I should have done. That’s a problem for tomorrow. I need to concentrate on the here and now. If I'm not tall enough to pull myself out, my only option is to climb. Hopefully, the four days I've spent in the gym this year will pay off.
“THIRTY- FOUR…”
“THIRTY-THREE…”
“THIRTY-TWO…”
Shit. He's almost here.Hurry the fuck up, Mickie.
I extend my right arm as high as it will reach, latch my fingertips around a slippery tree root and say a silent prayer that it will hold my weight. What appears to be another root sits above that one, out of reach. I grit my teeth and dig my right foot into the wall, ignoring the searing pain vibrating up to my shin. With my other foot, I give a little bounce and propel myself higher. Once high enough, I grab the branch, and bring my right leg up. As quickly as possible I try to make a foothold in the shifting wall of dirt. When I’m able to alleviate my injured ankle from my weight, I grunt in relief but that’s not before one last shock of pain sizzles up to my ass cheek.
"TWENTY-SIX…"
"TWENTY- FIVE…"
“TWENTY-FOUR…”
His countdown is getting louder as he seems to zero in on my location. In a frenzied rush to escape before I’m discovered, I yank hard on the root to try and propel myself higher but I end up pulling it out. The wind is knocked from me as I land hard on my ass. The puddle of muck that I landed in does nothing to cushion my fall, and now, I’m covered head to toe in a cold muddy mess.
And I more than likely have mud so far up my crack that it will live there in my afterlife.
Maybe I can lie flat and camouflage myself at the bottom of this pit? The man will overlook me, and I can rest until I have enough strength to escape this fucking hole.Ha.Yeah, right, but I don’t have much of a choice.
Mud mushes between my fingers when I dig my hands into the ground at my sides. Grabbing huge fistfuls, I swiftly slap it on my chest, rub it all over my stomach and legs. When I feel I'm concealed enough, I lay on my side and press my back against a wall of my grave. I’m barely in place when that haunting voice penetrates my brief moment of peace.
"ELEVEN…"
"TEN…"
“NINE…”
I squeeze my eyes close and try to regulate my breathing.
“EIGHT…”
The tickle of what must be a bug brushes along my back but I don’t move a muscle.
“Seven…”
A crack of lightning almost has me jolting from my spot but a mixture of exhaustion and pure fear keeps me still. I hold my breath, knowing my time alone is coming to an end but I’m trying to hang on to that sliver of denial. For now, I’ll stay glued to my spot against the wall and pray to all the higher powers that he overlooks the lump at the bottom of the big ass hole in the ground.
I’m waiting for the next number to be yelled but when it doesn’t come, hope starts to ignite in my chest. Is it possible he thinks I made it out of the woods? Could I have beaten him at his own game?
My eyes are so heavy that every time I blink, it takes a little longer to force them open. I’m fighting the urge to fall asleep with everything in me, but losing the battle terribly. I curl in on myself, using my hands as a pillow. The mud is hardening over my skin much like a cocoon and is helping to hold in my warmth. Maybe if I rest for a few minutes, I can find a way out of this hell hole.
eight
“Good morning Bambi. Did you have a nice nap?” the masked man asks.
His dark grumbly voice startles me awake from a dream he had been haunting. My skin cracks when I move and I remember this isn’t some crazy nightmare. I’m not in my bed.
Good morning?I turn my head from side to side, not exactly sure about what’s going on but I know it’s not fucking morning. How long was I out? Even more importantly, how long was his crazy ass watching me?
I can’t believe I fell asleep in this hole. It takes me a few moments until I’m able to focus, but when I do, I see him leaning nonchalantly against the dirt wall opposite me with one leg propped up behind him and his arms crossed. I can feel the weight of the man's stare behind the creepy black-and-white mask and it makes my skin crawl.
Could I still be sleeping? I close my eyes, maybe when they open, this will all have been a dream. Ghost Face won't be haunting me, and I'll wake up in my bed instead of being in a muddy, cold pit. But when I force my lids apart, I face my reality. I'm not dreaming, and the man is now kneeling in the sludge beside me.
