Back to the Woods

A girl named Ivory has spent almost her entire life living in the woods, but then a group of people find her and take her back to society. She has to learn to cope with losing her entire world.

Prologue

I hate the city.

Everything about it is horrible. The noises, the smells, the sights. It’s an endless sea of gray pillars and cars and smoke that makes you choke on every breath. The angry honks of car horns and rumbling of machinery never stopped, so different from the soothing birds calling and sounds of leaves rustling in the trees that I was used to. There was never a moment of peace.

Compare that to the usually silent woods, pleasant sounds, and crisp fresh air of the forest, well, they couldn’t be much more different.

Why they made me move here, I’m not sure. They said that it was unhealthy for me to be by myself out there. They said I needed to be around other humans and socialize. But doing that is easier said than done when the only company you’ve had for the past six years were the animals of the forest. They were much kinder to me than other humans ever were.

Oh, sorry. You probably don’t even know who I am.

My name’s Ivory. Twelve years old.

At least, that’s what they told me.

My story? I was living by myself in the forest for six years, before other people came and took me away, despite my protests. Maybe they didn’t listen because they didn’t know what I was saying. I learned to read and write and speak English when they first brought me here. Anyway, I want to go back. I’ve expressed this to them, many, MANY times, but they say that I’m too young. That I was probably starving every day, and only managed to survive because I ate random things. They always say that I’m lucky to be alive. But they also don’t know the whole story, and wouldn’t listen to me even if I told them.

So yeah. Don’t bother to ask how I survived. You’ll say I’m lying anyway. 

Chapter 1

I’m genuinely worried, and confused about this child. Mostly confused. She’s lucky to be alive, but she seems discontent with her life here. At least once a week she says how she wishes she could go back to the forest. But I really don’t understand, she must’ve been struggling for so long before we found her. Her hair was clumped into mats, like it hadn’t been brushed or washed in years, grown almost down to her feet. Her clothes were tattered and much too small, like she had only had one pair of clothes for a long, long time. She was painfully skinny, like she hadn’t been getting enough food. She couldn’t even talk. When we first saw her and tried to get her to follow us, she shouted something incoherent and ran off. We had to use a trap to bring her back to society, and when we succeeded, she struggled and was obviously trying to get us to release her, desperately screaming and shouting more nonsense. They weren’t words, it was a weird kind of screeching and howling that sounded eerily similar to animals.

“Ivory, look at me.” She tilted her head upwards and looked at me, her eyes as dull and emotionless as always. It bothered me how I could barely read her expression. It was usually easy for me to read people like her, but there was something different about this girl.

We were sitting on a cold padded white seat, and Ivory was obviously trying to sit as far away from me as possible. The sight through the windows lead to a whirlwind of white, the street empty and silent, but in the distance the constant honking of horns and rumbles of construction carried on.

Ivory followed my gaze, her mouth still a solid line, slightly angled in a frown.

“The city that never sleeps,” she remarked. “In the forest, the winter was quiet.”

My curiosity was piqued. She always said things like that. ‘In the forest, it was different.’ But she never answered my questions.

“How did you survive the winter in the woods?” I asked, my pencil poised over my notepad. I hoped for once she would give an actual answer.

Her gaze lingered on my pencil, then she looked away quickly when she noticed me observing her. What are you thinking? I asked myself. Is there an intelligent brain in there, despite only learning how to talk last year? She did learn faster than most children, but that could be because of her age… Still.

She just shrugged. My disappointment showed on my face for a millisecond, then I tried to look understanding and happy. I couldn’t tell if she noticed or not.

“That’s fine! I understand that sometimes traumatic events can feel like a blur, and sometimes you don’t really understand what happened. Can you try to remember one detail?”

Her gaze seemed to harden at the words, ‘traumatic events’, but, again, I couldn’t really tell if it was because she didn’t agree with those words, or dark memories were awakening because we were talking about it. I went with the latter, and talking about it was bringing back bad memories.

“If you don’t feel like talking about it because the memories are unpleasant, just tell me,” I said as cheerfully as possible. I was getting kind of tired of coming here every Thursday for an hour, only to leave with a sliver more information than before. And she didn’t seem to be getting any better, either. She still seemed sad. I kept wondering what it would be like, spending six years in solitude then to be brought back to society all at once. I thought I would be overjoyed. Never hungry, never unclean, other people to be around… So I can’t understand why she is still so attached to the woods.

“I remember the snow covering everything in a sheet of white every morning, the sky a blend of pink and orange and red… Making the snow look bright and golden. The birds were just starting to wake up, testing their voices, while the rest of the animals slept peacefully…” I paused for a moment, my pencil unmoving, while she spoke. I noticed maybe a hint of wistfulness as she looked out the window, but as soon as she was done speaking, she seemed to regret saying anything, and snapped back to the stoic girl she always was. “But, the cold was horrible, the animals scared of me, and I had no shelter or food or clean clothes.” I frowned a bit at the second part. It seemed like she was just telling me what everybody thought she felt, almost like she thought I would point it out. That was a superb description, too. It’s surprising, considering she learned how to use those words just a month ago.

I scribbled on the notepad, maybe it wasn’t all that bad for her.

It was the first consequential piece of information I had gathered since when she first got here. Then I wondered what to say.

“That… That was a beautiful description. So, it wasn’t all that bad?” She paused for a moment, then just shrugged again. I internally sighed. How was I going to figure this girl out? “Just say yes or no. Was it all bad?”

She paused for a moment, seeming to think about something.

“No.”

“What were the good parts, then?”

“I thought you said this was going to be a yes or no question.”

I let out a sigh. “Well, I guess I did say that, but-”

“You need more information. Yeah, you say that a lot.” I was slightly taken aback by her harshness, she usually seemed more bored than feisty most of the time. But it was nice to see her have a strong emotion for once.

A chirping ding sound rang throughout the white room, signaling the end of the session. Ivory immediately got up and started walking towards the door, like she always did. It didn’t really surprise me anymore. She was never really one to stay and talk.

I thought about the way she had described the forest so beautifully. It was really surprising, the way she had painted the emotion so clearly. She had actually said to me once, ‘I don’t really like the idea of detailed description. It seems like too many words that can be described in just one or two.’ So I was pleasantly surprised when she actually gave a description. A good one, too.

“Wait,” I called after her. She was about to turn the doorknob. She looked at me, uninterested, her hand still resting on the doorknob. She was ready to leave if what I said was boring or something she didn’t want to hear.

I rustled through my bag hurriedly, then came up with a small notebook and a ballpoint pen.

“Maybe you could try writing about some of your experiences in the woods. You don’t have to share all of them with me, but it could help you… part with the idea of going back.”

I noticed her eyes darken when I said the last few words, but she took the notebook and pen from my hand. She then briskly left the room without saying anything else.

I watched from the window as she sat down at a couch in the lobby, and proceeded to write several pages in the notebook, precisely what she wanted to write.

I couldn’t help but wonder what other talents she was hiding, and maybe she was more aware of the world than we thought?like she knew exactly what she wanted to write and had just been keeping it inside until now.

As she exited the building, I couldn’t help but wonder what other talents she was hiding, and if maybe there was a truly intelligent girl inside that emotionless shell.

Chapter 2

 The words she said echoed around in my head. It could help you part with the idea of going back.

It had been a year since I had come to the city. Others might think that is more than enough time to get used to the city, and understand that it would be horrible to go back to the forest, to the wilderness all by myself. But the idea of going back, even the faintest hope, was a beacon of light in this dull city gray. It seemed like the only thing keeping me sane. So to part with that idea, that beacon of light, the only good thing in this horrible city life…

It would be like the end of my life, in a way. It would just lose all of its meaning.

But, I guess it has kind of already happened. There’s not much meaning to my life right now. The only thing keeping me going is the thought that someday, I can have everything I lost back again.

Anyway, you probably want to know what I wrote in the notebook she gave me. It was just an entry about the different seasons in the forest, not anything special. I honestly don’t know why you’re curious, but here it is.

Winter

Bitter cold, peaceful mornings, the sun tinging the sparkling snow a pleasant gold. The sky shines with warmth and sunlight, but it doesn’t transfer to the cold, untrodden ground. I emerge from the half-warmth from the cave, the cold biting at my bare skin and making my cheeks go red. I set out purely for sightseeing and foraging, wondering if there will be any of the winter berries growing at this time.

Spring

The time of hunger and cold has ended, and the time of warmth and new things has arrived. The birds have started chirping a much less doleful melody, the warmth from the sky and the sun finally warming the frozen earth, the snow slowly melting into water that would give life to the new grass and food for every living thing in the forest. I come out, relinquishing the newfound warmth in the air. It no longer bit at my cheeks and ears. It was the halfway point, one of the only friendly seasons in the cycle. I had to enjoy it while I could.

Summer

The stifling, sticky heat forced the animals to retreat back into their burrows and nests and caves, back to the pleasant cool Earth away from the scorching sun. My bare feet moved quickly to avoid being burned, the dark earth had absorbed most of the sun’s rays making it scorching hot, but berries and plants are plentiful and make for a satisfying meal.

Fall

There’s a new smell in the air, as the scorching heat of summer fades away to what seems like a distant memory. The leaves on the trees turn brilliant shades of red, orange, and gold, showing their true colors in an array of beauty. The animals are gathering up for the coming horrible cold, along with me, as I scramble to get the edible berries off of the now auburn leaves of trees and bushes. Preparation and busyness fills the air in autumn.

Yeah. There they are. Nothing special, like I said. Just how it was like.

“Hey, Ivory, you have to get to your appointment. You have about five minutes. You can make it if you go rather fast, but I can drive you if you want me to-“

“I’ll walk,” I responded immediately, tucking my notebook under my arm and heading towards the door.

“Okay,” she responded, walking out from the kitchen towards where I was grabbing my small backpack. It was equipped with pepper spray, the notes from my sessions, and now the notebook my therapist gave me. “Don’t forget your pepper spray. I know it's not far away, but-“

“I know, Evelyn. Safety.” I put one of my arms through a strap on my mini-backpack, thrusting it over my shoulder.

“Anything else you need? Pencil? Did you do any work for her or anything?”

I walked over to the coffee table in the living room, and quickly grabbed one of the pencils.

“Okay, I’m going. I’ll holler when I’m back.” I opened the door, looking back at her. She smiled and waved.

“Oh, one thing-“ she started saying something, but I was already in the motion of closing the door behind me. It clicked shut, and I just shrugged to myself, thinking that it was probably just another one of her reminders to be safe.

The snow that completely covered the street only a few days before was only remaining in small patches, shoveled away by homeowners and the city snowplows.

A steady stream of people walking down the sidewalks to all sorts of different destinations was the first thing that greeted me, along with the telltale busy honking of horns and cars driving by.

I joined the steady river of people, trying to keep up with the brisk pace of everyone to avoid getting trampled. I watched the turns of alleyways and signs on stores to keep track of where I was. Even though I had lived here for a while now, the streets all looked the same and it was easy for me to get lost. The sameness of all the streets was amplified because of the blanket of white over everything, 

I reached the final turn before going onto the street where my destination was, getting pulled along by the stream of people. I checked my watch. 5:29. 

One minute to make it to my appointment. 

The only reason I really didn't want to be late is because I would have to stay later than usual, and Evelyn would worry more. My therapist would question me relentlessly about if I got lost or if anybody tried to kidnap me or anything like that, and the session would be even more of an instrument of torture to me than usual. Otherwise, I would definitely try to be as late as acceptibly possible every day. 

I made it to the colorful building with a big blue banner at the front that read: 'Family Therapy.' The large, blaring open sign taking up the middle half of the door was blaring the usual red and blue you would see at a gas station open sign. The whole place was trying to be as friendly and bright as possible, and in doing so it made the building seem kind of messed up, like you're supposed to be happy about needing therapy. 

I braced myself and put my hand on the doorknob, turning it and cringing at the bright happy bell sound effect that happened every time someone entered. It was like a reminder to the employees to 'perk up! Someone's here! Don't make them more sad about needing therapy!' 

The receptionist that was sitting behind her bright white, happy looking desk looked up, and for a split second showed her true emotion. Her countenance was full of empathy and sadness for the people that came here, but she quickly plastered on a shiny bright smile, like this was some type of daycare. 

"Hey there! What room do you usually go to for sessions?" she asked me, her voice bright and pippy, so completely opposite of what this place actually was. 

"42," I answered, my voice having a tiny hint of warmth in it towards the employee. I honestly kind of felt bad for them, because they had to act so happy in these horrible circumstances, even if a kid came in crying. 

The receptionist nodded and typed something rapidly on her computer, and I could tell she was trying hard to maintain a bright, happy smile. 

"Name?"

"Ivory. It should be the first result." There was a look of slight surprise on the womans face. A lot of them were always surprised when I told them that. It was because of the reason I was the first result. I had the most amount of sessions out of most of the people that came here, and if I remember correctly, it should be around nine-hundred, maybe a thousand by now.

"Go on ahead, dear," she replied after a few clicks and words written. I walked down they hallway to room forty-two. Even though this walk only took about a minute, it always seemed like it took forever. All the corridors looked the same. White, 'happy, modern' walls, warm orange lamps hanging from the ceiling, and silver colored, shiny plaques engraved with the room number. 

After what seemed like a lot more than one minute, I finally reached room forty-two. My therapist was sitting inside, looking at the door slightly anxiously. It was only 4:31. 

I came through the door quietly, making my way over to the cushion opposite of her and setting my small bag on the glass table in front of me. 

"Hi, Ivory," She said, bringing out her clipboard and pen. I hated how she did that. She acted like taking notes on someone was a completely normal thing, and that I shouldn't feel any objection to it at all. 

"Hi." 

As she opened her mouth to speak again, I knew exactly what she was going to say. I had seen her watching me while I was writing the seasons stuff in my notebook. 

Before she could say anything, I removed my notebook from my backpack and showed her the pages for a split second, before shutting it and putting it back in. I zipped it, not daring to meet her gaze. 

"So you did write some," she remarked, scribbling something on her notepad. I tried not to flinch, my mind flashing back to the times when they kept me in a glass room, staring at me, all holding notepads, and- 

I cut my own thoughts off, looking out the window. It was getting easier and easier to lock my emotions up inside of me like that, disguising a flinch with a cough, and just not reacting to things. I'm not really sure if that's a good thing or not, though. I'm taking it as a good thing. 

The funny thing is, before I came here, I didn't have very much trauma at all. But now because they were so desperate to help me with something that didn't need to be helped, they ended up giving that to me. 

"Could I... see what you wrote, perhaps?" Even though her voice left no trace of annoyance, I knew it was there. She was probably getting tired of my entire attitude towards the city, and her. 

That's honestly the main problem. There's no one that understands. There's no one that hates the city like I do, no one that even knows why I'm like this. They think that I'm just being difficult when I don't need to be. So they're annoyed, angry even, at the fact that I don't tell them anything. But if I don't tell them what they want to hear, they'll shut me down and tell me that I must be mistaken. So, basically, if I tell the truth, I'm wrong, if I tell a lie, I'm rewarded. 

I let out a sigh, and I can tell she thought it was directed at her. To be honest, I don't think I even care anymore. I shrug and take the notebook back out, keeping the backpack with me and shoving the notebook towards her. 

"Thank you." Katherine grabbed the notebook from the table, and flipped open to the page with writing on it. I just looked out the window and fiddled with my thumbs for what seemed like hours, when it was probably only minutes. 

Eventually, she put the notebook down, drawing my attention back to her. She looked at me intensely, and for once, actually put the notepad and pen aside.  

"What?" I responded. "Did I write something bad?" I didn’t respond in a tone that showed I cared, it was more like ‘I knew I shouldn’t have shown you it.’

Katherine shook her head vigorously. "Oh no, in fact, it's actually the opposite." she paused, looking at me again, then handed the notebook back. Then she leaned forward, her arms draping over her knees, her eyes searching mine intently. "Ivory," she said with the most serious and truthful tone I had ever heard from her, "that was phenomenal. Especially because of your background, I mean, I know I couldn’t do something like that only a year after I learned to read and write.”

I just nodded. I didn’t understand what was so good about it, though. All it was was a description of the seasons. Another kid my age could’ve done the same thing, probably better. More accurate according to where we are now. 

“So, Ivory I have a question.” She looked at me again, leaning back and casually grabbing her notepad and pen again. The little comfort I had felt at her putting it away immediately went down the drain, along with my slight willingness to speak. 

When I didn’t respond and just looked back at her, she didn’t say anything either. It was obvious she was trying to get me to talk. Finally, after about twenty seconds of us both having an unspoken standoff, daring each other to speak, I folded. 

“What?” I asked flatly. It didn’t really sound much like a question, just like a statement that was presented as one. 

“How would you feel about going to school?” 

As soon as she posed the question, I knew that there would be no chance for me to protest. Katherine was not asking me because I had any choice in the matter. She was asking me purely for information, probably to try and understand what my stereotype of schools were. 

I shrugged. “I’ve heard bad things, but there’s not really any choice for me, is there?” She nodded slowly, as if to let this information sink in, but I had already processed this information well before she confirmed it.

 “You seem ready for it. Your communication skills have improved a ton, and with this writing… it seems maybe even higher than your age level.”

I let out an internal sigh. I knew showing her the things I wrote would have a bad outcome. Letting any of my true emotion show through the cracks in my facade always leads to bad things happening. 

This time it might be the worst slip-up I've had. 

I'm probably going to a public school. 

In the middle of the school year.

And I know virtually nothing about math or science, and I'm probably not as good at writing or reading than Katherine suggests.

"So, when am I going to go?" I ask, my voice unintentionally dripping with dread. 

Katherine pauses for a moment, putting her pen up to her chin. 

"As soon as possible!" she replies brightly, lifting her pen to the air in a form of celebration. This cheerful act was met by a suffocating silence, and she quickly brought her pen back down. I held back my flinch as she scribbled something down on her notepad.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, panic flashing through me in an instant. I calmed myself down, telling myself that they were going to help me practice things.

They were going to.

They had to.

Right?

I let out another sigh, this time not caring if Katherine noticed or not.

Whoo boy, I thought.

This is going to be fun.

Chapter 3

Finally.

I immediately stood up with great relief as the alarm noise that signalled the end of my session rang out, cutting off Katherine in the middle of her sentence. I checked my watch hurriedly. My plan was to act like I had to be somewhere so I could get out of there as soon as possible and maybe pick up something from the bakery if I had time. 

"Do you have to be somewhere?" Yes! I thought, pretending to look out the window worriedly. That is exactly what I wanted you to ask. 

"Yeah. And I've got to make my trip quick so Evel- I mean, my mom doesn't worry." I caught myself before I said my foster mom's real name, because I knew how Katherine felt about me not really accepting Evelyn as my real mom. She thought that I should be more "respectful" to her because she was kind enough to take me in. 

I don't understand why Katherine can't just accept that I don't want to accept anyone other than my real mom to fill that role in my life. Sure, Evelyn takes the role of mom, but I could never see her that way. Even though I only have vague, faint memories of my real mom before I somehow got to the woods, they're still memories. 

"Where are you going, though?" I checked my watch again. Okay, I actually ahd to get going now. 

"To run an errand for her. I really have to go. Goodbye," I said hurriedly, throwing n my coat and scarf and barging out the door to the hallway. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I sighed in relief and made my way as fast as I could to the front of the building. 

As I pushed the glass doors open, I was immediately pushed back by a bitter cold. The snow flurries from earlier had obviously strengthened into something much bigger than that. 

I forced myself outside, where the almost sideways blowing snow obscured my vision of any signs of where I might be. My only clue was the building I had just came out of. 

I could barely see two feet in front of me, so I tentatively made my way into the stream of people. They were moving much faster than before, and there was a much smaller amount of people too. 

It’s been a year, Ivory, I told myself, pressing on through what I thought was the way back to my apartment. You can find your way back without help. I tried to make out what buildings I was passing by, but it was almost impossible to see even the silhouette of them. 

The cold was biting at my face, where only my eyes were peeking out from my scarf. I tried to keep up with the speedy pace of the people around me, but I was getting dangerously close to being trampled.

I made a sharp turn to the left, squinting to try and see the outline of a building I knew marked the street where my apartment was. It looked similar, so I continued down the road towards what I thought was my apartment. 

There was pretty much no chance of me stopping at the store for a snack or something. I could barely make my way to the store under normal circumstances, but now there was barely anything to guide me. 

I moved closer to the apartment buildings lining the street so I could see the numbers that were on the doors. 12. 13. 14. 15.

My number was 34, and the street ended in just a few more doors. 

Frantically, I sped up, counting the engraved numbers on the doors, hoping I just hadn’t noticed that there was a jump in the door numbers. As I came to the last apartment on the block, I froze. 

It was only 19. 

I rounded the corner onto the street next to it, where the numbers started going up again, but that street only went up to 29. The next street looked nothing like mine, and each side was packed with apartments. They were all in the 40-50 range. 

I watched the other people advance along the street for a minute, watching the number slowly go down as they quickly went into their apartments and shut their doors as soon as they opened to keep out the cold. A few even pushed past me because I was standing in front of their apartment. 

A young woman, maybe in her early twenties, was approaching the apartments I was standing in front of. At first I thought that she was just trying to make her way to her door, but then I quickly realized that instead of her eyes being locked on her apartment, they were locked on me. 

I met her gaze warily. Even though I was desperate for directions, I wasn’t stupid. I had heard of kidnappers. 

As she neared, she put on a sweet smile that made me even more suspicious than before. It was always the smile adults gave me when they wanted to sugarcoat something, they were lying, or they wanted to make me believe that everything was going to be fine. 

In short, that smile meant bad things. 

“Are you lost, dear?” She asked me in a sickly sweet tone. Her eyes did not match the suggested kindness in her voice. 

“No, I’m just waiting for someone.” I lied, but I could tell the lady didn’t buy it. 

“I can give you directions. I know every inch of this part of town.” She gave me a wink. “I can tell when people are lost.” 

“I said, I’m not lost.” 

“What apartment number are you?” 

“Who said I lived in an apartment?” The woman’s smile weakened. 

“Dear, you’re being rather difficult to someone who just wants to help.” I started moving down the block at a slow pace. The woman followed me. “Most people who live around here live in an apartment. If you didn’t, you’d really be lost, cause most of the actual houses are on the other side of this part of the city.”

“Fine. Do you know the way to apartment 34?” The woman’s sickly sweet smile returned, and she made a move to wrap her arm around my shoulder in a friendly manner. I immediately sidestepped it, giving her a strange look. 

“In fact I do. Follow me, dear,” she told me, acting like nothing happened. This was raising all of the warning flags. 

Before I could react, the woman pulled me close and hissed in my ear. “Stop making a scene. Follow along. I’m trying to help you out.” My eyes widened and I backed away, eying the small stream of people left and wondering if I would be able to blend into the crowd before anything else happened. 

“What the he-“ Before I could get the rest of my sentence out and walk away, she grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me towards some unknown location. I was about to yell out for help, but again she hissed in my ear. 

“There’s someone following you. I’m trying to help.” She kept pulling me along. I tried to wrench my wrist away, but her grip was surprisingly strong. She led me down a street I thought I had never seen before, but it was impossible to tell because of the almost sideways sheets of snow falling around everything. 

“LET ME GO!” I screamed, trying to whirl around so anybody that was there would be able to help me. But no one was there. They had all probably went inside because of the blizzard. “HELP! SOMEONE!” This time the random lady made no attempt at trying to get me to calm down. She knew that there would be nobody out here to notice and help me. 

Suddenly, she dragged me in front of an apartment building, gesturing towards the number on the door. I stared at it for a moment, not processing completely what had just happened. Then my brain registered the number. 

It was mine. 

I sprinted forward, and turned the doorknob frantically. Once it opened, I turned back towards the lady to say something.

But she was gone.

Chapter 4

I tumbled into the apartment, expecting Evelyn to dash out of the kitchen and fuss over me, asking if I was okay and if I got lost because of the blizzard, but there was just silence. There wasn’t even any background noise of her loading the dishes into the dishwasher, or cooking, or the clacking of her keyboard as she worked. It was like she had just disappeared. 

Without saying a word, I clicked the door shut behind me and proceeded to shed my coat, hat and gloves. 

As I quietly slung my mini-backpack off of my shoulder, I wondered if Evelyn was taking a nap, or actually gone. I set my pack down on the coffee table and crept into the kitchen, but nothing was there except for the silent whirring of the dishwasher doing its work. As I crept back out, I flinched as I stepped on a creaky floorboard. I expected the sound of Evelyn rousing, then getting up and coming out of her room to see what the sound was. But there was nothing. 

Now slightly suspicious, I silently made my way out of the kitchen and carefully made my way to Evelyn’s room. Maybe she was a heavier sleeper than I thought? 

I tried to open the door as quietly as I could, but it still made what seemed like a painfully loud creaking sound in the quiet apartment. Again, I anticipated Evelyn waking up and asking what I wanted, but nothing happened. 

I edged my way into the room and looked at the bed. It was perfectly made, and there was nobody in it. The only thing even slightly resembling that there could’ve been a person there was the small lump made by the pillow under the blanket. 

Still, I asked, “Evelyn?” 

No answer. 

I thought back to the scene where the lady was dragging me along. I couldn’t remember even the slightest familiar feature about the driveway leading up to  the apartment. I was so hung up on getting away that my thoughts didnt focus on anything else. The snow also made it impossible to see anything more than one foot in front of me, so even if I was paying attention, I wouldn’t have seen anything anyway. 

Maybe she had just needed to go on a last minute errand, and she lost track of time? Because she had always been back before I got home. She was very precise with time. 

Well, I thought, this isn’t particularly a bad thing. She won’t pester me about if I was okay because I was late to come home. 

I settled down on the worn, blue couch and pulled my notepad out of my backpack, along with the pencil. There were so many things I could write about right now, but I knew that if I did, Katherine would find some way to access it and read it. She might even ask Evelyn to give her the notebook. There was no way I could risk that. 

An idea popped into my head. I could tell Katherine that I haven’t been doing any writing, then write in a completely different notebook. 

I set down the decoy notebook and traveled over to my room, the sound of my footsteps amplified by the quiet of the house. I opened the door and cringed slightly at how bare it was. The only thing suggesting that I ever lived there were the wallpaper with leaves on it. I had asked for a full on forest wallpaper, but Evelyn said that it would be unhealthy to surround myself with things I could never have. 

I didn’t tell her that wasn’t the reason I had wanted the wallpaper, because she would never believe me. One thing I’ve learned about other people is that they’re really good at assuming what I want, and deny everything when they’re wrong. They also look down on the children like they don’t know anything. 

My mind flashed to images of the blurs of blazing red fur weaving in and out between the trees, small ones and large ones all after the same thing. The wind flowing through my hair, blowing out behind me in a streak of brown that almost made me look similar to them-

I shook my head, clearing my mind of the scene. Those days were long gone. I doubted anybody would let me get back. Even if they let me go when I was old enough, that would likely be when I was eighteen or maybe even older. But hen they would’ve forgotten me. 

They probably thought that I abandoned them. 

I went to my nightstand, opening up one of the drawers and shuffling through the assorted books, papers, and pencils to what seemed like no avail. They weren’t organized in the slightest, haphazardly thrown in as soon as I got them. Then another thought hit me. 

Would I even know the way back? 

I would’ve liked to think I could because of instincts and some magical bond… but I wasn’t that egotistical. I remembered how long and miserable that drive was. At the start, I had tried memorizing every turn to be able to find my way back. But after half an hour, it all seemed like a jumble of nothingness. A deafening rumbling sound and other things that looked kind of similar to me speaking nonsense that I now knew was English. 

At last, at the very bottom of the drawer, was a small notebook with a forest cover. I remembered when they gave it to me, and a day afterwards they sent me to Evelyn. It was the singular thing I had with me when I came. 

I snatched it up, flicking open to the first page. On it was what looked like a journal entry with atrocious handwriting. I managed to make out the words ‘I miss’ before an unintelligible scramble of something that was nothing like the English alphabet. It might be just a kid not knowing how to write to some, but I knew what it really was. 

It was a name. 

And the name was Aether. 

Chapter 5

I stared at the page for a moment, before ripping it out and crumpling it into a ball. My eyes stung and I tried to blink the oncoming emotion away, but a few tears managed to escape and splattered onto the notebook page. As I blinked rapidly to try and prevent more from coming, I heard the quiet creak of a door opening by the living room. 

I wiped my eyes with my arm, crushing the crumpled notebook paper in my fist. I stuffed the notebook back in the drawer I found it in, then walked out into the living room. Just as I expected, Evelyn was looking around worriedly. Her mouth was open as if she was about to call for me, then she closed it. As she unzipped her winter coat she spoke. 

“I’m so sorry, Ivory!” She exclaimed. I didn’t say anything. She kept talking. “I was going to go after you, but by the time I got all my winter gear on, you were gone! Did you have any trouble getting home? Are you okay?” 

I considered telling her about the woman for a split second, then brushed away the thought immediately. There was no way that she wouldn’t freak out. 

 “I’m fine, Evelyn. I managed to get home before the snow got bad.” As she regained her composure she studied me for a moment, her gaze lingering on my face.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’ve been…” 

“I’m fine. It’s just allergies.” 

“You realize it’s the middle of winter.” 

“A cold, then.” 

She paused and looked away, shaking off her shoes and then sitting on the couch.  

“I need to talk with you, Ivory.” I knew this meant that I should probably sit down, but I stayed standing and didn’t say anything. I was itching to get back to the notebook, but she would be confused why I wasn’t just writing in the one Katherine got me. If I explained that to her, she would talk with Katherine and then they would both ask me millions of questions about what I wanted to write and why I needed to keep it private. Completely ruining the point of the separate notebook and making them invade my privacy even more. 

“Katherine told me about you going to school.” 

Now this caught my attention. She was the one that would decide if I was going or not. I knew that she would definitely send me, but there was always a small chance. I knew Evelyn for the most part though. 

"When am I starting?" 

"December."

"When in December?" 

"The first." 

I sucked in a breath, crossing my arms and looking at my feet. I could feel my heart pounding against my chest, overwhelmed with all of these feelings that I knew I couldn't release. 

"I know you're nervous about school," she started. A wry chuckle bubbled out of my lips. Evelyn furrowed her brow, and I stayed looking down and quiet. 

I knew she probably thought that this was just my usual stoic demeanor, but really I was only being quiet because I was absorbed in my own thoughts. 

They swirled around in my head, my heart pounding in my chest like a stampede, thinking of all of the things that would go wrong and could go wrong, all these feelings trapped inside me felt like they were ready to blow but I couldn't let that happen, especially not now-

"...Maybe do you want to talk about this later?" 

I nodded. 

Evelyn sucked in a breath and nodded too. We both went opposite ways, I going to my room and Evelyn going to the kitchen. 

As I got into my room, I quietly clicked the pristine white door shut.

Then I collapsed. 

I made my way over to the drawer, choking out a sob. I was overcome by feelings and memories and all of these worries and thoughts that I couldn't keep holding inside anymore. Hot tears escaped from my eyes, and I thought about Aether, the forest, school, and that woman. It was all too much. This overwhelming guilt and sadness from leaving the woods, the hulking shadow of school looming over me, and the mystery of that woman created a dangerous mix of sadness, dread, anger, and confusion that I had been holding inside. 

I was keeping up this consistent stoic facade, like I didn't care about anything. 

For the most part that was true. 

But inside, there were so many unconnected pieces and broken parts and loose ties to count. I couldn't tackle this all on my own.

And there was nobody I could talk to about it. 

So all I could do was keep holding the feelings in an increasingly unstable dam, until...

Until what? 

I shook my head, my eyes burning from all these thoughts in my head and pulled open to a blank page in the notebook. Immediately the tears streaming down my face created an unhappy array of misery on the crisp page. I had realized awhile ago that I was obsolete in this city, and that had never bothered me until now. Maybe if somebody knew what I was going through, they might have a thread of empathy. And give me real help. 

Sure, Katherine was a therapist, but therapists can't help if they think the problem is the exact opposite of what it actually is. Even though she tried talking to me about a lot of things, it just felt like I was some study subject. The taking notes... she knew that I hated it. But she kept doing it. 

Aren't therapists supposed to make you feel safe, and be a place you can share things? Because then Katherine might have to change some things. 

Every time I go there I feel like all my actions are being dissected so she can assume what she thinks I want, when really it's just what she wants for me. It seems like she's just doing this to get information... like I was a big mystery. 

I collapsed on the floor, sobs heaving out one after another. I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears spilling out onto the floor. 

Was that all I was? Just some type of mystery that needed to be solved? A study that needs more information? 

I didn't know anymore. It seemed like the entire world was in on some secret that only I knew nothing about. And that secret was to try and oppose me at every turn and make me as confused as possible. 

I finally quieted down, pulling the notebook towards me. My eyes still burned from all of the tears. 

I made a crude sketch of a fox running through the forest, the wet spots from my tears making a beautiful but somber array of my own sadness. After I was done, it still seemed like I was missing something. Then I knew. 

I labelled it. 

Right above the fox's head was a name. 

Aether. 

Chapter 6

"Ivory?" 

A confused and concerned voice broke through my heavy blanket of sleep. I jolted up on the floor, the light in my room still glowing brightly. Evelyn was staring at me, a look of deep concern on her face. "Are you all right? Why were you sleeping on the floor?" 

I stayed quiet for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts to answer. 

"I guess I fell asleep while I was writing." I quietly slid the notebook behind me, closing the cover to conceal the page beneath. 

Evelyn still looked concerned. I sighed and stood up. 

"Well, I woke you because today is your first day of school." 

"Wait, what?" 

"It's December, Ivory." 

"Could I start tomorrow? I-" 

"It's Friday." 

I remembered what I heard about the school weeks and weekends that they used as a schedule. 

"Then next week?"

"Ivory, you need to get out there." I looked down, and then realized something. 

"What about-"

Evelyn held up a nice looking black backpack that was full to the brim with all of the school supplies that I would need for the day. 

"The school supplied them for me. Get dressed and brush your hair. You need to be out the door in ten." I nodded and leapt into action as soon as she left the room. My stomach was churning wildly, and I had to hold back a few extra tears left over from last night. My eyes started burning again and I swallowed hard as I pulled on my day clothes and grabbed my hairbrush off of my dresser.  

Before I left my room, I snatched my backpack off from the floor. I sifted through the contents for a moment, trying to judge whether there was enough room to put my notebook in or not. 

I grabbed the notebook from the floor and stuffed it in. Part of it was sticking out of the backpack, so I just didn’t zip it all the way. After that I hauled the backpack over my shoulder and grunted slightly when the full weight came down on me. 

As I pushed open the door and walked into the living room, I noticed a bowl of cereal on the coffee table. There was a sticky note next to it. 

I approached the bowl, craning my head over the table to try and read it. I recognized the messy handwriting as Evelyn’s. I slid the backpack off of my shoulder and let it fall to the floor with a thump. I glanced to make sure nothing had fallen out and then looked back at the note.

The post-it read: I had to get to my job super early today. I packed your lunchbox in your backpack. Go to the bus stop by Parker Avenue and wait for the school bus. It’s big and yellow, you can’t miss it! Eat your breakfast fast! Be out the door by 6:28!

Love, Evelyn. There was a little heart drawn next to the end, and I stuffed the post it in my pocket. I sat down on the couch and checked my watch. 6:25. Three minutes. I swirled my cereal around in my bowl for awhile, but I didn’t have any appetite. I forced a few mouthfuls down my throat before walking over to the sink and dumping out my breakfast. I watched for a moment as it all swirled down the drain, only some residue remaining. Is that what was going to happen to me? I’ll just disappear, the only memories of me fading away? I didn’t like the thought of everybody knowing my name, but I at least wanted somebody to have some pleasant memories of me. And remember them. 

I turned away and went towards the door, grabbing my winter coat from the coatrack and my gloves and hat from the ledge next to the door. I pulled them on, then I grabbed my backpack from the floor and slung it over both shoulders. One hand was focused on getting my scarf secured around my face, and the other was reaching for the doorknob. 

Even though the door was still closed, I could feel cold emanating from the other side. I checked my watch. 6:28. Right on time. 

As soon as I pulled open the door, I was met with a blast of cold. I shivered and stepped out, speed-walking towards Parker Avenue. I scanned the streets for signs that said Bus Stop on them. Once I saw one I made a beeline for it, my backpack bouncing behind me. I hoped I hadn’t dropped anything along the way. 

The snow had died out, but the storm had left the streets with some semblance of silence. I could still hear the roars of cars in the distance, but on Parker Avenue it seemed like the snow not only blanketed the street but the sound as well. 

I got to the bench by the bus stop sign and brushed the snow off. I sat down and pulled my backpack in front of me, pulling my notebook out of it.  As I shuffled through my pocket for a pencil, a long, big, yellow vehicle with black stripes came down the street. On it were printed the words: SCHOOL BUS. 

“Hm, I wonder what that is?” I chuckled to myself sarcastically. As it pulled in front of me, I scrambled my backpack over my shoulder and jogged over to the bus doors right as they whooshed open.  

Right as I stepped in the bus it went silent. I could feel everybody’s stares burning into my back as I looked around for an open seat. 

When I walked past, kids scooted closer to the aisle and shoved their backpacks to block me from sitting down. The bus driver used the intercom and told everyone to let me get a seat, but nobody listened. It was so silent on the bus that I could hear the bus driver's sigh, even though the intercom wasn't active. 

Finally, I found a seat where nobody was sitting. I shuffled into it and the bus roared to life, and the murmurs started. I could catch bits and pieces of rude comments and curious questions, but not much else. 

I pretended not to hear them. 

Over time, the tense silence built up volume. The murmurs about me died away and I assumed that the deafening chatter the murmurs built up to was the norm. I could still feel the occasional stare burning into my side, but I ignored it. 

It seemed like there was going to be a lot of ignoring involved in school

I stared out the window, watching the bleak gray city blur past. I could barely tell where one building started and another ended. They were all the same boring, horrible gray, blending together as the bus rumbled along. 

I itched to pull my notebook out of my backpack and scribble down everything I was thinking, but with most of the kids on the bus watching me, the rumours would only escalate. 

So I just stared out the window, completely aware of what they were saying about me, the stares, the questions. But it would only worsen my reputation if I reacted. 

Maybe some kids would stand with me if I stood up to the bullies, but it was too risky. At this point it would only make my situation worse. 

I was probably regarded as the weird, quiet kid who joined in the middle of the school year already. But there wasn't anything I could do about it. 

As I watched the boring city race past, my head raced with all of the worst case scenarios that would most likely happen considering my luck. Being ostracized by every kid in the school, being hated by everyone- the list went on and on. 

Before I knew it, the bus was slowing to a stop in front of a huge building, cutting my pessimistic thoughts off. There was a big sign at the front that read: "Rose City Middle School".  Kids immediately shot upwards from their seats, clamoring to get into the aisle and get out. I stared and watched, until the last kid made their way to the exit. I slowly, quietly made my way to the front, much behind everybody else. 

I was about to start stepping down the stairs, when the bus driver tapped me on the shoulder. I turned, my face stoic, waiting for what the question would be. 

"Hey, are you Ivory?" I nodded. The bus driver turned and shuffled through a few papers, and after a few pained seconds he pulled out something that had my name on it. "Meet Ms. Bridges in the counselor's room. She'll tell you everything you need to know and give you your schedule." He handed me the paper, and I murmured a quiet "thanks." 

"That's the map of the school. You might need it." He cracked a friendly smile, and I nodded. The bus driver wasn't that bad at least. 

By the time I got out of the bus, the rest of the kids had already gotten inside the school. All of the other buses were already cleared out of the parking lot. I put my hood up and went as fast as I could into the school. 

Immediately as I stepped into the building, I was barraged by memories of the near silent mornings of winter in the forest. Inside the school, all of the city noises that usually reached my ears through the thin walls of the apartment were blocked, and it created the quietest atmosphere I had experienced in a very long time. 

I looked at the crinkled piece of paper that the bus driver said was the map of the school. After looking at it for a moment, I knew where to go. I stuffed the paper in the side-pocket of my backpack and pressed on. 

After each turn, I passed so many different doors with numbers plastered on the front. It reminded me of the hallway in the therapy building. 

It seemed that after each step I took, the hum of the fluorescent lights got louder and louder. At first when I walked in, it seemed so quiet. But now the background noise of the lights seemed louder than it was outside. 

The blanket of silence filled by the buzz of the lights was getting more and more unsettling by the second. I picked up the pace, the floor seeming like a blur now. Was I running? I didn't know anymore. It felt like I was running a marathon, my heart beating so fast and loud that I thought everybody in the school would be able to hear it. All the turns started to jumble together in my mind, my feet the only part of my body that knew where it was going. My thoughts were racing faster and faster, but the ever growing noise of the fluorescent lights made it impossible to think. I drew in breath after breath, but it felt like my lungs couldn't take in enough air. I started gasping, my thoughts overlapping and repeating in a circle of desperation. 

When it seemed like the hum could get no louder, seemed like my lungs could take no more air, seemed like my heart could not beat any faster, I saw the door number that I was looking for. 

The buzz seemed to quiet, like my brain just needed to push a button to turn the volume down. 

I sucked in a deep breath and turned the doorknob, walking into the room. There was a big table in the center, with a hole in the middle. Like an oversized, condescending donut. I chuckled a little bit at the thought. 

"Who's there?" A friendly voice called out from a separate room. I assumed that was Ms. Bridges. Before I could respond, she walked into the main room and immediately gave me a shiny smile. I grimaced internally. I hated that kind of smile. 

It was the kind that random lady gave me when she was approaching me. It was the kind Katherine gave me when she was trying to get me to spill something. It was the kind Evelyn gave me when she wanted me to believe a lie or to believe that everything was going to be okay. 

That smile meant lies and bad news. 

 

Author's Note

Please ignore the fact that there are no indents, I'm copy pasting this from a different website and its set up that tab doesn't work for whatever reason. For critique, I've been having some trouble with consistent character voice and wordy sentences. Just grammar in general too. Anything else I appreciate too!