Man, fuck Katie.
I start to think about online shopping instead as I walk along the road. I’ve been walking for about fifteen minutes and am in the middle of planning my whole spring wardrobe when I pass some footprints in the snow.
Bigfoot?
I look around in a panic and then exhale in relief when I see Woodland Boots marked into the footprint. It’s just a man.
Oh shit. A man? I’m up here alone with a strange recluse mountain man?
What if he’s an ax murderer? What if he’s a freak who likes to steal innocent city women and lock them away in a cabin? What if it is Bigfoot only he’s wearing a pair of boots?
With my heart pounding, I turn around and walk back with a nervous spring in my step.
It suddenly occurs to me that I never gave anyone the address of where I’m staying. My parents and none of my friends know where I am.
This is all my brain’s fault. Why couldn’t you just figure out what happened to Katie?!?
My mind starts darting to the worst possible scenarios, playing them in excruciating detail as I start jogging back to the cabin. The irony of my imagination finally working now that I prefer it to be shut off is not lost on me.
When I picture a long-bearded man popping out of the woods behind me with an ax, I start running.
I get about five feet before I hit a patch of ice and slip.
“OW!” I scream as my ankle pops and I tumble to the ground. “Shit!”
It hurts. It hurts a lot.
After a minute of tears and feeling sorry for myself, I try to get up, but I can’t put any weight on it. It’s already swelling up bad.
Katie was having the worst day ever? No. Lily was having the worst day ever.
I’m cursing this stupid mountain, this stupid cabin, and this stupid unwritten book as I crawl along the snowy road. I’m cold and wet and miserable.
And scared.
If that ax murdering mountain man is behind me then I’m a sitting duck. I’ll never be able to run away now. Maybe I can roll down the hill to get away, but that doesn’t sound too appealing either.
I pull out my cellphone and hold it up. Zero fucking bars.
I have no boyfriend to come save me, so I don’t know who I was planning on calling, but either way, the phone is out of the question.
I’ve traveled about twenty yards when my knees start burning and I’m exhausted. I turn and sit in the snow, crying to myself as I take a break.
“Huh?” I gasp, whipping my head around when I hear a rustling in the trees behind me.
It’s not Bigfoot.
It’s the ax murder. He steps out of the forest holding an ax in one hand while he balances a huge log over his shoulder with the other.
I swallow hard as I stare at him with unblinking eyes. His face is hard but not unpleasant to look at. He’s got a long beard and the type of cold dark eyes that pierce through skin and bone.
His jaw tightens when he sees me sitting on the road, and we just stare at each other in shock. The only sound is the swaying of the trees in the wind.
He drops the massive log with a thud, grips the ax and starts walking toward me.
I just open my mouth and scream.
Chapter Two
Lily
“Why are you screaming?”
“You’re about to chop my head off!” I shout in a panic. “What am I supposed to be doing?”
The ax murdering mountain man glances down at the ax in his hand and then tosses it onto the ground.
Now’s my chance! He’s unarmed!
I push away from him and start awkwardly log rolling down the not-so-steep hill. In my head, I pictured myself flying down the hill at a breakneck speed, but I’m just kind of flapping around like a half-dead fish.
God, this is so embarrassing. I can’t even roll down a hill properly.
Now, not only does my ankle hurt, but I’m full of snow and my elbows are going to be all bruised up.
Maybe he’ll think I’m such a loser that he’ll go and find a cooler girl to kidnap and murder.
“Are you trying to go somewhere?” he asks as my face hits the snow.
“I’m escaping!”
“You do realize I can walk faster than that, don’t you?”
Oh, it’s no use! I’m a sitting duck. My ankle is killing, I can’t walk, I can’t write—I’m the easiest, most useless murder victim ever!
I can already see my tombstone: Lily Sparks. Mediocre As Fuck.
I roll to a pathetic stop and push myself up into a seated position. I’m crying as I straighten my leg that now feels like it’s been dipped in lava and then strapped to an exploding stick of dynamite.
I’m feeling sorry for myself big time and I’m on the verge of an ugly cry. I’m going to die having never accomplished anything significant in my entire life. I’m going to die having never fallen in love. I’m going to die with a Harry Styles CD in the CD player of my car and everyone will know I’m a closet Harry Styles fan.