Page 76 of Lost to the Woods

He nods at the water cup again. “Drink,” he says, more forcefully this time, like I’m being difficult on purpose.

I stare at the cup like it’s poison. It very well could be. But I can’t deny it—Iamthirsty. My mouth is dry like sand in the desert, tongue feels like it’s coated in cotton and old pennies. But I can’t bring myself to do it. Because I know what happens next. I drink the water, I’ll have to pee, and then it’s the bucket. In front of him. Ialreadyfeel it—the pressure building in my lower belly, sharp and insistent.

Or maybe that’s not it. Maybe it’s stillthemdeep inside of me. That thought makes me swallow painfully. My stomach twists. My thighs clench. I feel raw, sore in ways I didn’t even know a body could be.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything. Just watches me.

And even through all this—through the filth and fear and whatever the fuck I’ve been turned into—there’s that stupid, stubborn part of me that feels safer with him here. Like he’s the least monstrous of the monsters. It’s fucked up, I know. But he’s still human. At least on the outside. And that last brain cell that hasn’t caught up to the horror still sees him as a tether. I latch onto him like he’s a lifeline, something familiar I can hold onto while everything else slips into a nightmare.

I’ve been down the paranormal rabbit hole for years. It’s part of the job, part of who I am. Ghost hunting. Cryptid theories. UFOs. The weird disappearances, unexplained deaths, shit no one wants to talk about. I’ve spent so much time researching things people laugh off, digging for proof everyone else ignores.

But Alaska was different… That case stuck with me. It still gives me nightmares, and not even my anxiety meds help. The image of those bodies—they were barely even bodies anymore. Torn apart. Shredded. Pieces of them scattered, like something had just tossed them around for fun. Bones snapped like twigs. Skins slashed open like paper. Their faces twisted in terror, frozen mid-scream. Blood sprayed across the walls and ceiling, spilled in snow like someone created abstract art, the hot tub like a bucket of red paint. And the footprints? Nothing on this planet should make prints like that—massive, clawed, not human, but not animal either.

That was when I knew for certain.

There are monsters.

And now I’m here. With them.

I saw them with my own eyes.

They aren’t just beasts. They’re power. Hunger. And not just the kind that wants to eat.

It was about owning me. Marking me. Claiming me. Like I was some kind of prize. A fuckdoll to pass around while they took turns deciding if I was worth keeping.

I survived last night.

Barely.

But what happens when they get bored? When the novelty wears off and I’m not a shiny new toy anymore?

The thought hits like a gut punch. My chest tightens, my breath shortens. I start to panic, full-on. Shaking, gasping.Hyperventilating like my lungs forgot how to do the one thing they’re made for.

My eyes dart back to Ghost. “Please,” I whimper desperately, my voice cracking in half. “Please, let me go. Please! Ghost, I’mscared…”

Nothing.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t care.

He just stares at me like I’m a stranger. Like he’s trying to decide if I’m even worth a breath.

My brain scrambles, looking for another angle, any angle.

So I switch tactics. Fast. And I lie.

Or maybe not. Maybe it’s the truth, buried under all this terror and filth and ruin.

“Come with me,” I whisper, trembling. “Let’s run away. Together. You and me. We can leave all this behind. Forget about it and start over. Just the two of us.”

“Oh,nowI’m good enough for you?” His voice is ice. Sharp. Mechanical behind the mask, but so familiar I can feel it slicing straight through me. “Funny. Last time I checked, you were telling me how you wanted to be just friends.”

A sob rips out before I can bury it. “I was just confused.”

“You didn’t seem so confused the other night when your cunt was clenching around my tongue.”

“But Iwas,” I choke. “It’s this place! It messed with my head! I thought you… were one of them—”

“No, Bunny.” His voice flattens. Deadpan. “Just like before. You had me and threw me away.”

---