Where am I?
I see trees—tons of them—and they all look the same. I can't seem to figure east from west, but Dad always said I couldn't find my way out of a paper bag if left to my own devices. Everywhere I turn, everything is identical.
I don't know how long I've been out here or which way I came from.
It's dark. I'm cold. Shivering so badly I can barely stand. But that could also be because the ground feels like it's moving. Ebbing and flowing under my gray Converse sneakers, covered in a layer of red dust that always seems to coat everything in Davies.
I reach out to the tree next to me to stay upright, but even the trunk sways in time with the ground. There's stinging in my hands. Across my cheeks. I'm not sure how that happened. I can't seem to remember much before this moment.
But even if I want to lay down and curl up into a ball until the world stops swimming around me, I have to keep going. I have to find her.
So I put one foot forward and then another, stumbling until I hit the next tree.
"Maeve!"
My voice doesn't sound right. It's almost like I'm shouting underwater. All muffled and slow. Slurred. My tongue is heavy and doesn't cooperate with me.
Where is Maeve?
She was next to me, and then she was gone. Why can't I find Maeve? Why can't she hear me?
"MAEVE!"
I stumble into the next tree, my foot catching on a root. The next thing I know, I'm on the ground, groaning as pain shoots through my shoulder. It's so hard to breathe. Grunting, I manage to roll onto my back, my head throbbing as I stare up at the sky through the branches.
This is how I die.
Alone, cold, and hurt in the middle of the woods. They won't find me for days. My parents don't know I'm out here. I don't even know why I'm out here or where here is. The only thing I know is I have to find Maeve.
Or maybe I won't die.
I'm not sure. Because right now, it feels like I could go any second. It takes a lot to keep pulling in breaths. To keep my eyes open.
"Maeve..."
God, my eyelids feel so heavy. Maybe if I close them for a little bit, I could get a second wind. Then I can get up and find Maeve. Yeah, a nap sounds good right now.
Just a little one.
But as I close my eyes, I hear something. It's in the trees—a rustling. It's probably an animal. I think there might be cougars around here. No. It's probably a coyote. Or maybe it's a person.
Dread fills my stomach, squirming and spreading. Expanding until it feels like my gut might explode.
It's footsteps.
I should be happy that someone has found me. Instead, all I feel is growing panic. Something inside me screams to get away.
I need to get up. I need to move.
Pulling in as much air as I can, I muster enough strength and shove myself up from the ground. I surge through the swaying trees and rolling ground, seeing the lake between branches and trunks.
Right, we're at the lake. Why are we at the lake?
There's something in the water. I can't quite make out what it is in the darkness.
"Maeve!"
The rustling behind me grows louder. They're getting closer. I need to get to the lake. I don't know why, but the urge is there. Maybe there's safety in the lake. I keep pushing, watching as the water grows closer through the trees. Almost there.
"Maeve, where-"
The question dies in my mouth as an arm wraps around my middle, yanking me back deeper into the woods. Farther from safety. My heart nearly stops.
"Found ya."
My eyes flew open as I barely suppressed a gasp. Staring up at the ceiling, I pulled in deep, even breaths, willing the erratic beat of my heart to even out as I shivered. I knew it had nothing to do with the air conditioning being on high to fight off the sweltering, humid Miami heat.
You'd think after five years of these nightmares, I'd grow used to them.
There had been a time when I would sit for hours and try to decipher them. Figure out what they meant. Try and rack my memory for that voice that I could never seem to place at the end. Eventually, I gave up. The dreams held no real clues. It was merely my mind attempting to fill in the blanks of a night I could never fully remember - a night that I should remember, considering it changed everything.
One thing I had grown accustomed to was the guilt. I never found her. Maeve, that is.
It'd be nice if my brain would give me a break so that, at the very least, I could have a happy ending in my dreams. But no. It thoroughly enjoyed torturing me. Almost as much as my mother.
She'd always been that way, but it only worsened after we left Oklahoma. Whatever demands she made, it was easier to give in.
She always said everything she did was out of love. I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with love. But I learned the hard way that you couldn't say that to her.
It only made it worse.
"Aisling Yvette Turner, are you even listening?"
My view filled with my mother's frown, her perfectly styled auburn hair falling into a curtain around her perfectly made-up face. God forbid she leaves the house without looking wholly made up.
I quickly sat up, straightened my back, and looked at the floor.
"Sorry."
"I said I'm going to the store after my nail appointment. Is there anything you need or want?"
It was a trick question. She only asked out of habit. Already, she was more interested in rifling through her oversized purse. I waited until she looked up at me, an eyebrow raised. I shook my head.
I held my breath until she finally hummed her acknowledgment and walked into the kitchen, back to digging through her purse. Silently, I rubbed my sweaty palms against the couch, willing my racing heart to slow down.
It was hard to stay calm, but I needed to. Mom had to think today was like every other day, that nothing major was happening. All those years of being told to suppress my emotions were being put to good use. I had finally perfected the skill of wearing a mask.
I had become the perfect, obedient daughter.
Down amid all the fear, there was a small bubble of excitement. I was finally escaping. Or, at least, I hoped I was. I'd feel better once Mom finally left the house.
"Aha!"
I swung my legs around to plant my feet on the tile floor as Mom rushed in, her keys held up triumphantly as her flowery dress wooshed behind her.
"I'll be back in a few hours. You working today?" She didn't bother to look at me as she passed.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Okay. See you!"
I watched as she left, waiting until I heard the door lock before jumping up and rushing to my room upstairs. It'd always been hard to keep things from my mother. She never missed anything, watching me like a goddamn hawk since we moved here. I was pretty sure the only reason she let me get a job was because she needed help with the bills.
Of course, I had to pretend that I didn't know why. That Dad was ramping up to cut her off completely but couldn't do so until I was safely out of the house. Instead, I acted grateful she allowed me that tiny bit of independence.
I could do this. I had to do this. Or else I would die here in Miami.
I grabbed my purse from my bed and slung it on before grabbing the handle of my suitcase and pulling it over to my door. I stopped, waiting a few more minutes. Just in case Mom forgot something and came back.
After what felt like enough time, I pulled my suitcase downstairs, leaving it next to the couch. Quickly, I rushed to the windows, peeking out to ensure the coast was clear. Her car was gone, and I was reasonably certain she wouldn't be coming back. My heart raced as I pulled out the phone Dad had sent me - my normal phone was left on my bed. My fingers shook as I opened the rideshare app and ordered a car to the airport.
God, it would be close, but there was no way I could let her see me leave the house with a suitcase behind me without raising suspicions. I barely left it as it was.
"Come on, come on." My heart thumped hard as I watched the seconds tick by until my ride would show up.
I couldn't believe I was doing this.
If Mom knew, she'd never let me out the door.
She'd lock me in my room again.
This time, she might not let me out.
But I had to go.
My phone chimed as a text popped up.
Danny: Everything OK?
Everything OK?
I froze as an anxiety spiral started up. My eyes darted around, almost expecting Mom to come peeling back into the driveway, blocking my escape. Dad and I had been planning it for weeks since we managed to get back in contact. Mom had no clue, which was a miracle in and of itself. I guess she thought she had me fully and completely under her thumb, or she was losing her touch.
Part of me liked to think I was that good at hiding my tracks, but I knew that likely wasn't it. I had never been good at anything other than being a burden. There was every chance this could go wrong. That we missed something. The plan had been moved up rather quickly due to unexpected circumstances.
Grams.
I shook my head, trying to stave off the anxiety attack. Now wasn't the time for an existential crisis, and it wasn't what Dad was asking about anyway.
Could I truly do this? Sneak off and get on a plane back to Oklahoma without Mom knowing?
I looked down at my large suitcase, which held what little I held dear, plus some clothing. A part of me was tempted to call the whole thing off, to go back upstairs and lock myself in my room. Forget that I ever hatched a plan with my father to run away from Florida, and it's unbearable pressure—both from the ever-constant humidity and my impossible-to-please mother.
"Why would you ever want to go back to that hellhole, Aisling? There's nothin' left for you."
Wasn't that the question of the hour?
I couldn't quite answer it other than I needed to. Something in my soul called out to go back home, and try as I might, I couldn't ignore it.
Me: Waiting on my ride. Still good to go.
Sighing, I slid my phone into my purse and prepared to leave the condo. My ride was almost here. I opened the door and walked out, stopping to lock it before walking to the end of the driveway to wait.
I couldn't remain still. I was twitchy as I looked around, worried one of the neighbors would see me and call Mom. I didn't think they would. Her best friend lived the next street over, while the neighbors around us mostly kept to themselves.
But at the same time, I felt proud. I was finally doing something for myself—something I needed to do. I needed to go home to help Dad and say goodbye to Grams.
To hopefully find the peace I had been searching for the last five years.
To let go of Maeve.
For a brief moment, I closed my eyes, and I could see her. A big smile that filled her entire face. Long black hair full of smooth waves. Far unlike my often frizzy and unruly red curls.
"Oh my God, senior year is going to be so fucking amazing, Ash."
"Yeah... effin' amazin'."
"No, you have to say it. Come on! You're not going to hell for saying a curse word."
"I... okay... So... fuckin'... amazin'."
"God, we're going to need to work on you before we get to NYU..."
A honk shoved me out of my memories as I jumped, and my eyes flew open.
"Aes...ling Turner?" a man shouted awkwardly from the rolled-down passenger window, stumbling over my name.
I never understood why my mom named me something no one could pronounce. Paying homage to our Irish ancestors, she said. Grams had always huffed at that, muttering under her breath about Mom being from Dublin, Texas.
I nodded as I gulped and quickly walked to the back of the car, where the trunk was already popped. I loaded my suitcase before the driver could even get out to help me, slamming it shut and then sliding into the back seat.
Thankfully, he didn't say anything as he drove off, and I settled in to stare out the window, my hands gripped together to keep from shaking. I tried to push aside the memories of my best friend as we quickly joined the Miami traffic headed to the airport. Even if I hoped to find peace back in Oklahoma, the more significant reason was to help Dad with my grandmother's funeral.
A tear slid out of my eye as I blinked, forcing myself to swallow down any more tears threatening to fall. I wasn't about to cry in the backseat of a car with a complete stranger. Nor was I going to cry on the plane or anywhere but the solitude of my room.
I could almost hear my grandmother chiding me.
"Never let them see ya cry, darlin'. It'll just feed the fire, and us Turner women, we're stronger than that. We helped build this damn town."
I found myself sitting up straighter. Lifting my chin the way Grams taught me when I came home from school, crying about being bullied again. Of course, the strength never lasted. Usually, by the next time the mean girls or Mom found me, I would be a blubbering, cowardly mess again.
But I still missed Grams and our talks. Part of me also missed crying whenever I felt the need rather than forcing myself to swallow it down.
I was going to need to channel Grams now more than ever. I was about to return to Davies after five years and once again face the looks, whispers, rumors, and judgment of the entire town, no matter how much they respected my father and grandmother.
I had to do it for Grams. And for Maeve. I had to find a way to let go of this festering guilt over that night before it drowned me.
The night that I couldn't remember, no matter how hard I tried or what I did.
The night my best friend Maeve disappeared.
And was never seen again.