RYAN

“Ten years ago, almost to the day, a young girl, probably around eleven, was tucked away in her bed, sleeping soundly. Her family had come to this very camp in an attempt to escape a man who they suspected had been following them. This wasn’t just your average stalker: He was careful, persistent, obsessed. It didn’t take him long to track the family down, slipping into their safe haven undetected, under the cover of night.

“In the woods, nothing is sacred. Posing as a park ranger, the man skulked about, searching for wandering children. But he wasn’t looking for just any child. He had a prize in his sights: the eleven-year-old daughter of a family who tried so desperately to escape his watchful eye. He snuck into their cabin slowly, like a ghost, the family not even realizing that he was there. Before she even had a chance to scream she had been ripped from the comfort of her bed and dragged into the woods. Deeper…Deeper…Deeper… She thrashed and clawed for something—anything—that could save her, but the man was too strong. She didn’t stand a chance. No one even knew she was gone. Until it was too late.”

I paused for dramatic effect.

“But she was a fighter. She wanted to get back home to her family—her friends. She wanted to live. There had to be something—a weak spot—something she could reach. Like his face. If she could blind him, maybe she could get away. Clawed hands raised, she slashed at the man’s head, feeling something squishy and slimy dig into her finger nails. He screamed and recoiled, and she desperately tried to get back to the campsite, the taste of freedom on the tip of her tongue—she did it. She survived.

“A sickening laugh filled the air. You little bitch, the man hissed under heavy breaths. He lunged at her. She grabbed a fallen branch from the ground and swung. The wood smashed and splintered against his side. He barely even stumbled. He snatched her leg and pulled. She crashed to the ground, skin breaking against sticks and stones. In a last effort to save her life, she squirmed and slashed at his arms, digging in as deep as she could, until nails became coated with his blood. The man yelled and almost pulled away.

“Almost.

“The man knew there were too many loose ends. He wouldn’t get what he wanted. He was injured, bloody, possibly even blind in one eye—there was too much blood for him to tell. His only option was to silence the only witness to his crimes. In a last-ditch effort to cover his tracks, he pulled the flashlight from his belt and swung, bashing her in the head. Over and over and over, until blood coated the forest floor.”

Another pause. “The girl’s body was left in the woods for weeks before someone found her. The man was sentenced to life in prison—his blood still under her fingernails when she was found. But the man swore he would have his revenge. Two months later, he was found in his cell hanging. Some said it was suicide, but there was no way to know for sure. All they had as evidence was a handwritten manifesto, where he swore he would enact his revenge even in death. That he would find her soul, and he would never let her know peace. Now, it is said that he roams this very camp, searching for his next victim, his appetite never sated, always burning.” I let my voice trail off in that dramatic way they do in TV shows when the story is over. I took the opportunity to sneak a glance at Josh, who was about ready to vomit. There were three things he hated: gore, horror, and character death. Which is why I made damn sure to include all three.

That actually wasn’t as terrible as I thought it was going to be. I looked back over to the little girl in the woods. Her white eyes had faded, revealing a vibrant blue. Her face twisted up into a little smile, and slowly, her body faded into a ball of light, and flew up into the sky. Sometimes, all the spirits of the dead needed was for their story to be told. Call me a sap if you must, but I do hope she found at least a little clarity.

“What a load of crap! Where did you even find this story anyway, dude?” Josh scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. He was totally shaking—ok, so he was trembling slightly, but I was taking the win.

“I told you, the internet. Besides, who’s going to prove me wrong? It’s not like we can just google it! No one has service out here!”

“Oh, I can!” A bubbly voice pulled everyone’s attention over to the three members of the soccer team who hadn’t snuck back to their cabins already. It was the goalie who had spoken up, Bell Flores. She flipped her brown hair over her shoulder and pulled her phone out of her shorts.

“How the hell do you have service out here? We’re in the mountains of California. It’s a complete dead zone,” Josh pointed out.

Bell winked. “I have my ways.” She opened up her phone and pulled up the news app. She reached like she was going to type something in the search bar, but stopped, distracted by a story. “Oh, crap, I completely forgot! The Hall Family was holding a Remembrance parade for their missing kid tonight!”

I tensed. God, even I forgot that was a thing. When were people going to give up on the whole Hall thing? It was the talk of the country for ten years running! The infamous Hall kidnapping—I mean, it had it all! Drama, suspense, mystery, a child in distress. The media was like vultures, feeding constantly off of the flair of it all. And people ate it up!

To my dismay, the topic caught on rather quickly.

“Oh, yeah, it’s for the ten-year anniversary, isn’t it? I heard Mrs. Hall was going to make another speech.” Gigi got up and walked over to Bell, looking over her shoulder at the phone.

Josh rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe that’s still a top story. It’s been ten years, and the case has gone nowhere. The media is just using a broken family for views, I can’t believe people listen to that crap.”

“You listened to it,” I teased.

Josh ignored me.

“Why do you think? People feel sorry for the kid. Wasn’t the Hall kid like, a public figure? The “poster child” for mutants? A high-profile kid like that can’t just disappear without turning a few heads.” Bell was mindlessly tapping away at her phone as she spoke, not bothering to look up.

I tried not to let myself get offended. But, I mean, come on. Kid? It’s been ten years. Hall isn’t seven, he’s seventeen! And I don’t know why I’m talking about myself in the third person.

Point being, I’m not little. Well, fine, maybe little in comparison to Josh who was a freaking giant, standing at over 6 feet but hey, you get the point.

The little girl they were looking for didn’t exist anymore—it was just me, and I didn’t want to go home. But no one could know that, or Birth Giver would find me, and we don’t want to get into what would happen then.

Not to mention, I don’t think she’d take too kindly to finding out I’m trans, and a boy.

“Not this case again. Kid’s probably dead.” Everyone turned their heads in surprise when October decided to contribute to the conversation. He was the definition of teen bad-boy rebel chic. Complete with the classic punk look—a ripped at the shoulder jean vest covered in patches that moved stiffly with him, an indecipherable band tee, ripped black jeans in the middle of summer, and even thick black Docs—October was all about fighting the system or whatever the hell it was those guys did.

“Like Josh said, it’s been ten years. The only reason they haven’t solved the case is because they are looking for a kid when they should be looking for a body.” October leaned back, fiddling with a lighter he definitely wasn’t supposed to have. He popped the top open and flicked the flame on, the small fire just enough to illuminate his brown, calculating eyes. His curly black hair fell in his face as he stared at the lighter.

“Seriously, October? A lighter? You know I have to take that, right?” Josh raised his eyebrow.

October didn’t even look up. “Try me, bitch.”

Before the confrontation could go any further, Gigi spoke up. “Oh, don’t say that, October. There are plenty of cases where people show up years later unharmed! There’s always hope.”

“There’s no way! I mean, come on, there was never any ransom! What other motive would someone have when kidnapping literally the richest kid on the planet,” October argued.

“Maybe someone wanted to do experiments. Isn’t the first-time something like that has happened. It’s not like we totally understand how mutations happen—and it seems to me, someone like this Hall kid would have been the perfect test subject. Maybe that’s why no one has found him,” Bell chimed.

Yeesh, that’s a terrifying thought. Thank god I’m not suffering in a lab somewhere.

“Yeah! Plus, the kid is this crazy powerful mutant, right? Wasn’t the kid’s thing like… Adaptation or something?” Tyrin’s voice was hardly a whisper, and honestly, I almost didn’t hear him. He shifted on his seat next to his brother, October, the thick black bangs that covered his face shifting just enough to reveal his red contacts.

Ha. Powerful. I loved that people actually thought that.

“No, it was wings. That’s why Mrs. Hall’s brand was Little Angels.” Ah, look at the brains on October. The wings—what I’m most famous for. They were a dead giveaway that I was the missing kid. Thankfully, what no one else knew was that I could hide them. It took a lot of energy, but if I needed to, I could just make them go away. Most of the time, anyway.

“What are you kids still doing out there? It’s past ten!” Camp Overlord barked, and suddenly everyone was scrambling in different directions, all scurrying back to their cabins.

I breathed a sigh of relief.