CHAPTER ONE | OVERSTIMULATION

SUNDAY

FIVE YEARS LATER

WINTER WAS UNFORGIVING in Graycott, Maine. 

Tucked away in the northeastern pocket of the woodland State, the little rural town seduced its tourists and wide-eyed travelers from all over the coast during its lush summer and gentle fall. It was one of the richest towns in the eastern coast, home to governors, business moguls, professional athletes and famed artists. 

Except, come wintertime, something foul and incredulous lingered in the near-constant fog. The darkness that hid within the crevices of the postcard-worthy town awakened from its dormant state just in time for the cold season, cloaking the entire town and its people in a deep gloom. Anything was possible in the dark. As a result, winter in Graycott was a fascinating thing. A terrible and fascinating thing. 

I winced as the cool nighttime breeze stung my cheeks and clung to my every breath, leaving milky shapes in the air. As the sweat trickled down my body and bit against the wind, my entire body shuddered. I hunched over, feeling the bile rise up my throat as my entire body ached from my sprint. My chest caved as I caught my breath.

Overexertion helped me think better. 

No, that was a lie. 

The ache made all the thoughts disappear and I could breathe easier. So over time, I built up an insatiable appetite for pushing my body to the limits. My recreation of choice was always running. I just never knew if I was running towards something or away from it. 

My knees buckled but I forced my body forward, feet kissing the frostbitten pavement hard and fast. My backpack whipped against my spine as I quickened my pace, ears ringing and heart pounding.  

The smell of damp pine leaves pricked at my nostrils as I ran. The long road and its bordering nature was blanketed with a fine veil of snow, everything was cold and dead and monotonous. In order to find small wintry Graycott, all you really had to do was just listen and follow the sound of the universe’s complete and utter betrayal.

 I checked the time on my watch, I was running late but at least I was running. Besides, showing up on time wouldn’t feed the fascination that was Sunday Harding anyway. I rolled my eyes. The river was right around the corner. 

When I came to a halt at the stream of water, my blood hummed in my veins. My muscles cramped and gripped at my flesh, sending sick convulsions down my legs. Everything shook inside me, desiring to combust with something akin to a fever that was boiling me from the inside out despite the cold. Moments like these were when I felt the most free. It was all at once revolting and relieving.

The nearby woodlands and mountains sheltered the small river from sight but the fear of being caught or recognized only accelerated my pulse. I looked ahead to the river and saw the surface of the water glistening with a thin layer of ice; the narrow shining stream lit up under the moonlight and sliced through the surrounding deep green hues. 

The trees rustled and the wind whistled. The forest was the only part of Graycott that remained restless throughout the year. I suffered its call to me wherever I went, endured the heavy stirring inside me. 

I dropped my bag near a dense thicket and started stripping down to my underwear and bra. Removing my running shoes, I felt the sharp rocks and moss underneath my bare feet. An audible sigh escaped me. Yes.

My teeth began to shatter as I shed myself of all the warm layers of clothing. A sudden gust of wind blustered past me, blowing my titanium blonde hair back and causing my skin to tingle. Everything around me came alive. 

A small smile tugged at my lips as I jogged towards the water. The marshy ground sunk beneath my toes and my body whipped through the low-lying fog like a knife through air. 

When I reached the edge of the mudbank, I hurled my body into the icy water with full force. The frosty water cracked and shattered at my knees, but I waded deeper. The edge of the forest shifted and embraced me with open arms. 

The water was crisp and bitter, gnawing and worrying at my sore body. Once the water reached up to my neck, I stopped trudging. Tilting my head back, I shut my eyes and soaked my sweat-licked scalp into the river. I let myself pause for only a moment before letting myself slip under. 

Then, I screamed.

I cradled my body and screamed and screamed and screamed into the thick water. 

I clutched my neck, gripping the flesh tightly. My mouth became an open wound, going hoarse as I purged all the bloody frustration and anger from inside of me. It was dirty, wild and everything I couldn’t afford to show. My skin crawled with the thrill of it. 

The air emptied from my rattling lungs but I held down for longer, letting the burn release me. When I finally came up for a breath, I was gasping. The light current of the river pulled my body further in, but I stretched my arms along the surface of the water and pushed backwards. The water danced and swirled around my limbs. I looked down at the rivulets and ripples of clear fluid traveling up and down my warm ivory skin. 

I let myself bask in the chill, my chest still heaving for breath. The atmosphere was alive with the sounds of crickets and other creatures rooting in the underbrush. A soft moan slipped past my lips. 

A twig snapped in the near distance behind me. 

I thrashed my body around to face the riverbank, my face in pale panic. That wasn't the sound of an animal. No, that was very much a human sound. Squinting my eyes, I surveyed the area where I abandoned my bag, clothes and shoes. Everything was there as I left it. 

The darkness obscured my ability to see further but I slipped myself deeper into the water, shielding my near-naked body just in case.

Just in case what, Sunday? I thought. 

I shook my head, I was overthinking. Don’t go there. 

Goosebumps spread along my body, making the hair at the back of my neck stand on edge. The night time shadows and silhouettes had to be playing tricks on my mind because as I trudged back to my things, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.