Carter and I got out of his black Camaro and were greeted with the sharp, cold air. My breath left smoky tendrils in the grey mist of the December afternoon. Silverwood Park stretched out before us; a quiet haven tucked away from the city’s chaos. Ancient trees with trunks thick as castle walls loomed overhead, their branches intertwining like cathedral arches, filtering the waning light into soft, dappled pools on the forest floor. The air smelled of damp moss and earthy decay, with a hint of crisp pine riding the gentle winter breeze. I felt a huge calm come over me. I really loved this place. Even though it was mid-day, the forest ahead of us looked like it was basked in darkness. It always excited me how mystical this forest felt. My dad would always take me for walks in all the seasons. When I was little, I would hop onto his shoulders and let the low branches tickle my hands. He would always tell me fairytales about the forest. I found out later that he usually made these up just to get a rise out of me. I smiled fondly at the memories, and then I remembered what he said about the wolves before I left and chuckled.

Carter looked over at me with a raised eyebrow in confusion. I waved my hand and shook my head.

“My dad,” I replied with an explanation. “He told me to watch out for wolves on our walk and I only just remembered the story he told me about the shape-changers.”

Carter smiled bemusedly and asked, “What was the story?”

“It was basically a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood. Only, in my dad’s version, Red was named for her red hair”—I pointed to my own—“because he thought he was being clever. She wanders into the forest one day after seeing what she thinks is a little boy who’s lost. She follows him... only to discover he can turn into a wolf that walks on two legs.”

“So, werewolves?” I might have imagined it, but Carter’s voice sounded a bit on edge. I looked over at him, and he was staring up ahead at the large-trunked trees.

“Huh, I asked my dad the same question. No, not werewolves, shape-changers, I think he said. They were able to change at will. Werewolves have no choice in the matter.” He then looked up at me, smiling.

“Touche, not werewolves then.”

I smiled back and cleared my throat. “Anyways, it was just a silly story. He always did remakes of the classics, usually starring me or my friends. Snow White saved the prince, and Goldilocks helped Hansel and Gretel escape from the evil witch. He was so good at telling these stories I honestly have vivid images in my head, like I saw them on screen.”

Carter chuckled and replied, “Sounds it. So, what happened in your story, lil’ Red?”

I smirked and thought back to the story. “So... lil’ Red followed the boy into the forest. She saw him transform and gasped so loud that he turned around and saw her. The boy thought she was the prettiest human he’d ever seen, and he went to approach her.”

Carter raised his eyebrows. I went on, “She got scared and ran. Before the boy could catch up to her, she bumped into the local huntsman, who took her back home.”

“Ah, so a happy ending then?” Carter sounded relieved.

“Well, when she told the huntsman what the boy was, he decided the boy must be evil and wanted to hunt him down. But Lil’ Red realised she didn’t want the boy to be hurt—she was in awe of him and thought he was beautiful. So, she lied about where she’d seen him and sent the huntsman in the wrong direction. He never found the boy. After that, Lil’ Red decided it was best to stay away from the forest, just in case she ever led the huntsman back to him.”

“Wait, it ended like that?”

I smiled and replied, “I also asked the same question. He said he would tell me the rest later.”

Carter’s shoulders slouched in disappointment. “Wow, your old man left you hanging all these years!”

I laughed and shook my head. “To be fair, I was always kind of wary of that story. It nearly made me afraid of Silverwood,” I said, looking at the trees around me, hearing the leaves crunching beneath my feet, and the mist rolling through the distance. “I never wanted to feel that way about the forest. Now that my dad reminded me of the story, I’ll need to ask him how it truly ends.” I smiled up at Carter. “Hmm,” was all he replied. He looked distracted, a bit deep in thought. I’d seen that look before, when he’s focused on something—usually his drawings. That brought me back to his painting. The memory of it flashed in front of my eyes, and for some reason, I felt uncomfortable. I wondered what his process was when he painted it. It looked like me, but it felt too perfect somehow, almost like he’d improved the way I look—and there was my revelation. I decided to ask him about it to help break the silence.

“So, about that painting…” I smiled up at him. That broke his train of thought, and he quickly glanced at me.

“Did you not like it? Tell me honestly.” His words hung in the cool air, his tone casual, but I caught the flicker of something deeper. I shook my head quickly. I didn’t want to lie but I also didn’t want to hurt his feelings either. “No, I loved it. I mean, I didn’t expect… it to look so much like me.”

He laughed softly, brushing his fingers through his blond hair. “That was the point, you know.”

“I know, but you didn’t just paint me. You painted... me.” I emphasised the word while motioning to all of me, hoping he’d understand. “The waves in my hair, the way it falls naturally—I’ve always wished it would just stay straight. But seeing it like that made me… change my mind. And my nose—”

“Don’t say anything bad about your nose.” Carter cut me off, his tone firm but kind. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect, El.”

I looked away, my cheeks flushing. I could never get used to someone calling me perfect. It just never sat right with me. “You made me look perfect,” I murmured. “That’s what’s hard to wrap my head around.”

He nudged me gently with his elbow, his grin playful, though his eyes carried something heavier. “Maybe it’s because I see you how you are, not how you think you are.” He grabbed me in a bear hug and kissed me on the lips. I enjoyed the warmth in the cold air. “But hey, I showed you my masterpiece. Now it’s your turn.”

I stiffened, his teasing words turning serious as his gaze landed on me expectantly. “What do you mean?”

“Your sketches.” His voice was light, but his posture betrayed an intensity that made my stomach knot. “C’mon, I know you still do it. You had white charcoal on your top last night, El. I showed you art that I do that no one ever sees”.

I exhaled and pulled myself away from his grasp. I wrapped my arms defensively around myself. “Carter, that’s different.”

“How?” His brows furrowed, and I could tell this wasn’t going to end as easily as I hoped. “You saw my painting. You know how personal that was. It’s only fair.”

His words were gentle, but they pressed on a raw nerve. “No,” I said firmly, taking a step back. “It’s not fair. You wanted to share that painting with me. I didn’t ask. And my sketches aren’t... they’re not like that.”

“What are they like, then?” His voice softened, but there was an edge to it—he was pushing me.

“They’re private.” The words came out sharper than I intended, but I held my ground.

Carter’s expression flickered, something dark and unreadable passing over his features. He sighed and looked away, the silence between us stretching. “I just want to know you better, Elena,” he said finally, his voice low and almost regretful.

But there was something in his tone that made me uneasy. I couldn’t understand why he was so insistent on these sketches. They were my dreams—something deeply personal that I wasn’t ready to talk about.

“You do know me, Carter. That’s just a small part of me I’m not ready to share. My sketches don’t define who I am as a person. I need you to please back off about this.” My tone was firm, but Carter just looked down at the ground, his brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched. He was angry.

Suddenly, I felt very small. I didn’t like this. This was confrontation, and I couldn’t handle confrontation. His anger and disappointment was suffocating me, drowning me, and I had to get away from it.

“Take me home, please,” I said quietly. He looked up, surprised.

“El…”

I shook my head, “I don’t want to argue with you.” He sighed.

“Fine,” he replied.

We turned and walked back to the car, having barely spent ten minutes in the park. I kept my arms wrapped around me as we walked, the cold air not doing much to numb the tension in my chest. Why was he so hell-bent on these sketches? He claimed he wanted to know me better, but he needed to respect my boundaries.

These dreams were already pushing me to the edge. The symbols, the stranger, the dead figure—it all felt like I was losing my mind. I couldn’t talk about them. If I did, I knew he would just run and leave me. What kind of person draws a dead figure and is considered normal? No. I had to stand firm on this. I needed to figure out what these dreams meant before I could even try to explain them to anyone.

We reached his car in silence. The loud sound of the car doors shutting seemed to echo in the stillness. I didn’t look at him as he turned on the engine, and he never said a word as he pulled away from the forest I loved—now tainted by our argument.

After ten agonising minutes of silence, Carter pulled up to my house, and I heard him engage the handbrake. I reached for the door handle, but his hand caught mine. Surprised, I looked up to find his face softened by regret, though his brows remained furrowed. I stared into those beautiful blue eyes, and my heart ached with hurt.

“El, please, I’m sorry. Don’t think I’m being a dick here. I’m just so crazy about you. I want to know what’s going on in that head of yours, y’know?”

He leaned down and grabbed the portrait that had fallen to the car floor. My heart sank when I realised I’d almost left it behind. Guilt prickled at me as he handed it back. I tried to smile, but it felt hollow.

“I know,” I said softly, taking the portrait from him. “But I’m just not ready for that yet. Just give me time.”

It was a lie—a small one, but a lie all the same.

Carter exhaled deeply and leaned back, studying me. His shoulders sagged as he let out another sigh. “I’m not trying to push, you know. I just... I like knowing you, all of you. But I’ll back off if that’s what you need.”

I glanced down at the portrait in my lap. My reflection in the car’s side mirror caught my eye—two very different Elenas staring back at me.

The Elena in the portrait looked hopeful, radiant, and full of dreams—an Elena untouched by the chaos and dread that haunted me every night. She didn’t feel real, not anymore. But I wanted to be her, even if I didn’t know how.

“Thank you,” I said at last, meaning it this time.

Carter gave me a small, sad smile. “Anytime, El.” He leaned in and kissed me—a tentative, fleeting peck. It felt distant, more of a truce than a promise. I couldn’t commit to more; the argument still loomed too heavily.

I opened the car door and stepped out, clutching the portrait tightly to my chest. The cold afternoon air bit at my cheeks as I walked up the path to my front door. I could feel his eyes on me the whole way, but I didn’t look back.

Only when the roar of his engine finally faded into the distance did I pause at the door and glance back, finding no trace of his car. Tears pricked my eyes and then spilled over. How will I ever get past this? I wondered bitterly. Was it just the idea of me as some shy artist that even drew him in?

How could I ever explain that I didn’t sketch to be good at it or for fun? It was a compulsion—a desperate way to quiet the visions that plagued my dreams. I loathed the void, hated everything about it. All it gave me was stress and anxiety. I took a shaky breath and glanced down at the portrait again. That was a mistake. All I saw was the girl I could never be: perfect. I wasn’t the perfect daughter, girlfriend, or even friend. I hadn’t exactly reached out to Iah and Val, either. I looked away from the portrait, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. My parents couldn’t see me like this. I took a few deep breaths, waving my hands in front of my eyes to dry them.

Alright, I told myself, let’s get through the day, and maybe I can start figuring this out.