The Hunter and His Prey

Chapter 23: News

I felt like the world around me was rotating, spinning wildly as if I was in the rotating cups at a fairground on a hot muggy summer night. Everything blurred together an abstract painting of what my bathroom had once been.

I wasn't sure what to think. I wasn't sure what to say. I wasn't sure what to do. All I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and fall asleep and wake up in the morning knowing that this was all a big bad dream, a nightmare that I would wake up from and see that everything was okay. It was a lie I kept telling myself as Ian's voice rambled on incoherently in the background. His words indecipherable, as if he was speaking another language.

Finally, his hand came down on my shoulder and shook it gently. The pieces of my world started coming back together, my focus increasing with each gentle shake. My ears could finally hear his words and determine what he was saying.

"Violet, are you okay," he asked his words laced with concern, eyes rich with the worry, his furrowed brow topped off his uneasiness that was radiating off him.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout. I wanted to yell so loudly that the whole world could hear me, but my voice came out as merely a hushed whisper. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes as I uttered the single syllable, "No."

"It's a lot to process, I know," he said, his hand still heavy on my shoulder, grounding me. I felt my body and mind would spin out of control if it weren't for that hand. "And that's not even all of it. I haven't been completely honest with you. I haven't lied to you, but there's a lot I haven't told you."

It took me a moment for me to regain my ability to speak, but when I did my voice was barely as audible as a mouse squeak, "Wh-at more do you have to tell me?"

"Let's get you out this bathroom first," he tells me and then grabs my wrists and pulled my lifeless body up and forward. He led me to the couch and pushed down on my shoulder to sit me down.

He sat down beside me and stared at me while I shook.

"You're shaking," he states, clearly stating the obvious and caresses my cheek softly.

I want to lean in, I want to seek the comfort of his touch, hell anyone's touch in this moment, but I force myself to pull away.

"What more is there to know," I question, not daring to look at him but choosing to look at the faded rug instead, the scratched wooden floor, the dying plant in the corner, anything but him.

"It's a lot to unpack in one night, but first off Heather is alive," he says a flare of anger pronounced in the syllables of her name.

My head shoots up to meet his volatile eyes.

"What," I gasp, unable to believe it. I don't understand how.

"Let me show you," he says pulling out his phone and loading up a video from YouTube .  "This is from the day after you came to stay at the cabin."

My eyes hyper focus on the screen as the news anchors begin to speak. I leaned in, eager to hear all the news anchor had to say, curious as to what Ian was about to show me.

"Covering the breaking story from last night, I am Israel Bartoness," said the male anchor and then paused for his counterpart to introduce herself.

"And I am Marigold Fisher," the female anchor stated shortly after.

"Ski trip turned tragedy this weekend. Last night, a park ranger girl came across passed out in the woods, dirty, injured, and nearly frozen in the snow. She had clearly had been on the run for her life. He immediately brought her to safety and notified authorities who arrived on the scene in a matter of minutes before the heavy snowfall hit," Israel began. "Police identified her as Heather Debois, who was recently reported as missing 24 hours ago by her father, the mayor when he did not hear from her on her ski trip.