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Her palm in mine becomes clammy, and it trembles. I look down at it and see the difference between the two. My big tan one totally engulfs her small pale one.
“He hasn’t been told yet, but I know he’ll want to see you. You were living with him until whatever happened to you happened. You have a home you can go back to.”
Fuck, but I hate those words. To me, this is her home.
“No.”
I look up at her fearful tone.
“Doe… this is good. This means you have family. Someone who cares about you.”
Or at least, I hope like hell she does.
Her head shakes and panic starts to fill her eyes. She yanks her hand away from me and stands. Her arms go around her middle, and she squeezes her waist tight. She starts to pant, and her skin pales.
Betsy jumps up with a whine at Doe’s sudden movement, but I pay her no mind.
I stand and take a small step toward her, not wanting to spook her more than she already is.
“Doe—”
“No!” she shouts, shaking her head frantically, tears forming in her eyes. “I don’t want to go!”
Before I get a chance to try to comfort her, she spins on her heel and takes off running, heading into the trees behind my house. Betsy whines again then takes off after her. I tip my head to the sky and close my eyes, the tense feeling in my neck causing a headache.
“Goddammit,” I mutter to myself. I fucking hate how much I’ve upset her.
Reaching back, I give my neck a rough rub then drop my head back down. Looking toward the woods, I follow behind Doe and Betsy. I walk slow, giving her a few minutes alone, but I refuse to leave her out there. I’m not really concerned with her getting lost or running off. I know these woods like the back of my hand. And she has nowhere to go. She’s smart and knows that. She just needs time.
Even though the woods are dense with a shit ton of bushes and fallen branches, it’s easy to see the path Doe took by the matted down parts. I push branches aside, and my stomach lurches because I know Doe’s probably scraped to hell from them. With her frantic need to get away, she probably didn’t take the time to push them out of her way.
The longer I follow her trail, the more my chest gets tight. It’s been years since I’ve navigated these woods, but I still remember them well. I’ve been this way so many times, I could probably find the spot with my eyes closed. My own palms start to tremble and sweat the closer I get to the area that holds so many memories for me. I’ve avoided coming back here because those memories are too fucking painful.
Coming up on a clearing, I stop and squeeze my eyes shut, trying my best to shut down the memories wanting to surface. Childish laughter pierces my ears so loudly that I would swear the source was right in front of me when there’s no way it is. I wish I could go back in time and hear it again for real. To see the rare smile only I was lucky enough to witness.
Hearing a dog’s whimper, I drag in a ragged breath, uncurl my fingers, and crack open my eyes to see Betsy sitting at the base of my and Aislin’s old treehouse. Her head is tipped back, looking up at the wooden structure. I haven’t seen it in years, but other than the wood looking aged, it appears the same. I know without seeing her that Doe is up there. The question is, am I brave enough to climb the ladder and go up there myself? This treehouse and Aislin’s old room are the two most sacred places to me. I’ve avoided them both like the plague because I’m scared shitless of the memories that come with them.
Hearing a creak coming from above, I know I have no choice but to face this fear. My legs shake as I walk to the base of the tree and grip the old spindle made of two-by-fours. I look up and see the door open. It feels like fucking spiders are crawling all over my skin, but I man up and make my way slowly up the ladder, not only because I’m a pansy-ass, but also to make sure they’ll hold my weight.
By the time I make it to the top, my heart’s pounding so hard in my chest, I hear the beat in my ears. I bring my head through the door and look around. Doe is standing over by a wall that has several old pictures Aislin drew tacked to it. I quickly advert my gaze back to Doe, not wanting to look at them.
I climb the rest of the way through and take a quick look around. Our old trash box sits in one corner and the cushions we would sit on are on the floor by another wall. Faded coloring books and word search books sit next to them with a sixteen pack of crayons on top. There’s an old faded piece of fleece material thrown on top of one of the cushions. Aislin used to use it to keep warm when we were here and it was cold. Cobwebs are everywhere, and the ceiling is so low that I have to duck or my head will hit. The last time I was here, my head was an inch from the ceiling. Aislin used to pick on me, calling me a giant, saying my dad would have to help us build a bigger treehouse.
“What is this place?” Doe asks, pulling me back to the present. Keeping my head down, I turn to face her.
“This was my and Aislin’s old treehouse,” I answer. I clear my throat of the gruffness.
She looks around. “It looks cozy.”
I don’t reply.
She looks back at the wall and touches one of the drawings.
“This is beautiful.” She sniffles, telling me without looking at her face she’s been crying.
“Aislin drew it.”
I keep my voice quiet. I’m afraid if I talk louder, I’ll reveal just how fucked up being here again is making me.
