Page 2 of Miserable Marionette

“Do you want to swing?” I ask, shifting on my feet to shake off the nerves.

He glares over at the worn set off to the side of his house. “No.”

“Oh, okay.” Tears bud in my eyes, and for the life of me, I can’t fathom what reason I have to cry until he speaks up, running his hand over the back of his neck.

“That swing set is creaky. There’s a better one in the woods over there.”

My eyes widen as he points to the dark wood line behind his house. Excitement eats away the fear that blooms in my chest at the sight of the eerie thicket as I nod, blinking away my tears. My blonde hair slaps me in the face with the sudden turn I make toward the porch. “Mama, can I go swing with Gideon?”

“Sure, Auds. Don’t leave his sight,” she offers, barely looking up from the magazine she’s showing Gideon’s mom.

Don’t leave his sight.

I glance up at the older boy, flashing him another wide smile that he doesn’t seem to know what to do with.

“Gideon, I don’t—" his mom starts, but he’s already stalking back toward the road, and I’m hot on his heels, Krissy dangling at my side. For a moment, I fight the urge to look back to see if he’s going to get fussed for ignoring her, but it never comes.

I follow him for a long time, telling him about my drawings and Krissy. My old friends and that I secretly don’t like the new house, even though Dad keeps trying to convince me to. Throwing around words like historical and acreage, whatever that means. Turns out Gideon is a great listener. And that would be wonderful except that the woods are darker than I thought, and quickly my smile fades as he leads me deeper into them, my heart picking up speed in my chest as dread builds again in my belly. It’s a different place, a different state, but it all feels so familiar.

It doesn’t take him long to notice my fear, his ocean eyes turning on me. “Are you scared of me?”

I frown, tugging Krissy to my chest, my embarrassment suffocating. “No!”

“Then why are you stopping?”

I stare down at my knees, my heart hammering wildly now. “It’s darker in here,” I whisper. “Can’t we go to the other swings?”

“I don’t like the sound it makes.”

I take a deep breath, flashing him another smile because the last thing I want is to look like a baby, even if it comes off shaky. Daylight peeks through the treetops as the woods open up, assuring me it isn't night yet. The tire swing here looks even older than the other set, but I keep my mouth shut, bounding over to it with Krissy in hand. The rope is rough on my palms, wet from the rain. Once pale fibers darkened by long years spent in this very spot, frayed in tiny sections. Everything here smells so earthy, like dirt and creek water. The tire swing groans as I put my legs through the hole, the seat of my pants getting soaked.

Gideon stands at the edge of the clearing where I left him, watching me as I secure Krissy in my lap. “Push me, Gideon!”

His eyes widen, and I have yet to see him smile as he stalks over, his hands shoving me by the back as the rope creaks against the thick branch. It’s not a gentle push; the movement is abrupt and jerky, but his palms are warm, even through the fabric of my jacket. My giggles fill the forest, birds quieting as if to let me have my moment as he pushes me harder and harder. Blonde, damp hair gathers in my face before flapping out behind me wildly. My stomach dips like I’m going over a huge hill in the car. I tilt my head back, staring up at the trees obscuring the cloudy sky as I fly around the clearing. “Higher!” I laugh, clutching the rope tightly.

Gideon doesn’t speak or even laugh along with me, but higher I go. The rope protesting in the same groans that Dad makes after he’s sat on the couch for too long. All the tightness, the worry, is gone from my chest for the moment. I don’t even mind the mist so much anymore until a deafening crack fills the woods. The feeling of weightlessness makes my stomach plummet as my eyes widen on the snapped rope overhead. I’m so high up, the ground doesn’t look like it should come as quickly as it does. My vision blurs as my head hits the ground with rattling force. The air in my lungs knocked somewhere far away, unreachable for a few horrifying moments. A whimper quickly turns into a muted sob as my fingers dig into the wet soil, trying to push myself up off the ground.

“Gideon?” I sob, my head pounding as warmth trickles across my scalp.

Everything comes in doubles; the dim light of the clearing making my eyes strain as I roll to my side. Pausing there for a few steadying breaths before I force myself to my butt, crying out for my mom. I know we’re too far in the woods for her to hear me, but I don’t stop. Each sob needling the fear in my chest as scarlet red droplets splatter onto Krissy. I blink my eyes to clear them as I stare down at my doll. Her cute frilly white dress, now mottled with blood, one of her arms missing. I sob harder, ignoring the pain to lift my head and look for Gideon.

He was already tall but looks so much more so as he towers above me, his hand clasped around a huge rock.

“Go get my mom,” I sob, “My Krissy doll broke!”

He just stares down at me, his empty blue eyes wide behind his glasses as his chest heaves. The rock halfway lifted, suspended in the air like someone had frozen them both.

I hiccup, snot bubbling at my nose. “I want my mom! Krissy is all bloody! I want to go home!” I scream it, and I know I’m acting like a brat, but I don’t care. Everything hurts. I’m… I’m scared.

He takes a few moments after that to move, not even my yelling or sobbing seeming to reach him as I struggle to find Krissy’s missing arm.

He finally drops his stupid rock and kneels beside me. His hands tilt my head back roughly, and I squint against the sudden brightness of the sky. My eyes struggle to focus on him as he wipes his long fingers through the blood coming from my hairline. Rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger before his ocean-blue eyes turn toward Krissy.

I try to stand, but it hurts too much. He knocks Krissy from my lap as he picks me up, stumbling a little before he starts walking. My words are mangled and panicked, begging him to go back for her.

“You’re bleeding everywhere. It’s warm,” he states, but he doesn’t sound worried.

“I need Krissy!” Fisting his bright sweater in my hands as I wail.