Then

I'm being held tight to someone's chest as they walk down a concrete path. Leaves crunching under their feet as they walk briskly. 

Coarse hair brushing against my head as we travel. 

We stop suddenly. And I know that I should open my eyes, see if I'm safe. But I'm so tired. 

I wonder to my self where we are going, and I'm once again missing the time I spent where I was not alone. 

Whoever is holding me turns up a path, they make it to some wood stairs. Climbing, their shoes cause the panels to creak and moan. 

Stopping they knock. 

My confusion melts away, I can imagine clearly, I'm being carried up a road to someone's porch, to the door. 

A new fear over takes me, who could these people be? What will they do? 

The door opens and I hear a gasp. A woman. She lets us in, is she safe? I wonder. 

"It's time?" The woman asked worry leaking from her words like a broken pipe. 

"I found him in the woods." The man carrying me says setting me onto a couch. He sighs, I can almost hear his thoughts racing. 

Suddenly a weight is dropped onto my chest , a cat. 

I hear two gasps, the man shooing away the cat. 

I'm gripping my chest, my heart going a million miles a minute. Shyly, I glance around. 

The woman is still covering her mouth, like she's convinced any noise will cause harm. 

"I apologize for our cat, we should have put her away, I'm sorry" that man said. 

I nod, still confused. He says it like he had been expecting me. 

I chalk this up to my exhaustion. The cat rubs against my legs, meowing softly. 

The man and woman look uncomfortable, like something bad is about to happen. 

The man clears his throat grabbing my attention from the creature at legs. 

"I'll start some food, is stew okay with you?" He asks fidget with his hands. 

I nod, I don't think I can afford to be picky. 

"Thank you so much," I say, "you don't have to do all of this." 

Eyes wide, he scampers to the kitchen. The woman whispers, 

"This test is much harder than last years." 

I opt to stay silent, I've found that going with the situation in these new places while horribly uncomfortable and dangerous, more often than not will allow for survival. 

"I never got your names?" I ask. 

I swear I feel the temperature drop as soon as I say this. 

They don't make a sound. Nor do the react to the change. 

"May I brush your hair?" The woman asks.

 I want to say no. I barely have any, and i don't want her to touch me. I don't want to be here anymore. At all. 

But I feel my mouth form the word "yes." Before I can do anything. 

She's smiling wickedly. She knows she did something to me. Pushing me to sit on the floor so she can sit above me. 

She hums as she brushes my short hair, even as it's tangle free. 

The man gives us each a bowl of stew. His face growing red, begging to match his beard. 

I have my first sip as he watches, I assume he's nervous. 

"It's very good." I smile. I notice the woman hasn't started hers, only stirring it with her wooden spoon. 

I take another sip, starving from the jump and the events before.  

It starts first in my mouth, a numbness on my tongue. 

I feel it in my neck, as I try to turn to look at the man who made the meal. 

As if everything is going in slow motion, my hands go numb and I drop the bowl. My whole body now numb the only noise I can manage is a panicked whine. 

"Jeremy, he's down." The woman says setting her bowl down on the coffee table. Grabbing a backpack from the front door she kneels next to me. And moves me so I'm laying down. 

"Are you sure Margret?" Jeremy says. She nods taking jars out of the bag. 

Jeremy, nervous looking, approaches a bookshelf. He picks up what he's looking for, whispering as he flipped through the pages. 

Margret begins to grind something from the jar into a fine powder. 

Jeremy begins to light candles around the room, whispering something I can't understand. 

"I'm ready." Margret says. 

The man kneels next to me, tears in his eyes. 

A cold paste is applied on my face, as Margret whispers in the same language as Jeremy had been. 

She pulls out a large hunting knife, my eyes widen as she plunges it into my stomach. 

All at once all the candles go out. And I know I'm going to die. I didn't let myself believe it before but it's hard to think anything else when there's a knife in your stomach. 

"I'm sorry, but it must be done." The woman says wiping her tears. 

Then the door bell sounds. 

"They know not to bother us right now." Jeremy says softly. Getting up and going to the door. 

A boy, about my age maybe 15, is there. 

"You never came for me, so I walked here."  He said. 

"What do you mean? Then who is he? Who left him in the woods?" Margret began asking rapidly. 

I'm usually much more curious, but I can feel myself slipping away. 

I close my eyes as I hear people rushing around the room. 

The knife is pulled out of my stomach, and a rag is pushed to the wound. 

Don't they know it's to late? Why are they trying to help me now? 

"Stay awake, boy." The man says lightly slapping my cheek. 

A soft whimper leaves my throat, I'm so tired. 

I guess they don't know I'm not really dying. They're running around yelling, worried. Trying to keep me alive. 

But I won't. I know I won't. 

At least they will feel horrible about it now. They won't be whispering they're sorry, but it had to be done the whole time I slip away now. 

Who ever that boy was. I wish I could thank him.  

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