Page 27 of Fear Me Not

Fuck, I’m an asshole. She’s right.

I just don’t know how to un-asshole myself, or even if it’s safe to.

Cold sweat beads across my forehead and the back of my neck. I pause in my chopping to wipe it away with my sleeve. It’s easy for the body temperature to drop too quickly out here, and I don’t want that to happen, especially when work needs to be done.

Now the pass is closed, we’re unable to bring in anything from the outside to last us through the winter. It means everything we have to survive on is right here. It’s my job to keep the place stocked with wood that I’ve cut and seasoned, ready for the snow. Most of the living areas have their own fireplaces. We do have heat here, but not across all of the property, and sometimes, if the pipes get iced up or the boiler that’s down in the basement breaks, it won’t work.

We have plenty of wood—I made sure of that over the past few months—and our food stores are full of canned goods, rice, pasta and dried grains. The hunting I’d done over the warmer months will have paid off, too. All the meat I’d dried and cured and frozen will keep us fed.

We’d almost had one less mouth to feed though.

My mind jolts with panic at how close we’d come to losing her. If it hadn’t been for Dov’s actions, she’d be dead right now. And that had been my father’s fault, too. Her finding out that he’d lied had been the proverbial straw that had broken the camel’s back. I’d worried about the tall pedestal she’d put him on. He’d made her believe he was some good guy, some fucking savior who was there to make her life complete. I’d warned him against it, but oh no, he had to make her love him. He hadn’t been able to handle the idea of her falling harder for either of his sons.

If I’d been the one who’d made her believe she’d killed the boyfriend, and then she’d found out I’d lied, it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. Sure, she’d have been pissed, and probably would never have spoken to me again, but she wouldn’t have run, because she’d have still had Daddy’s big, strong arms to curl up in.

How would we have coped, the three of us here over winter without her as a distraction? One or more of us would have ended up broken or even dead, I’m sure of it. Now… well, now at least we have a chance of making it through.

A crack comes from the bushes to my left. I pause, axe held high, waiting. Had it just been ice snapping a twig, or am I being watched by the local wildlife? Or is it something else?

I give it time to reveal itself, but when nothing does, I continue with my work.

There’s a gap in the weather. Snow lies thick on the ground, but the sky is blue, though the sun has no warmth. At least when the temperatures stay low, the snow is easier to manage. It’s when it gets warmer during the days, at least to melt a little, and then turns to ice overnight when the temperature drops to below freezing again, that a thick layer of ice forms and it becomes particularly hazardous.

I hate being stuck inside the hotel. My brain doesn’t work well with confinement. I need to be able to see the horizon and inhale fresh air.

Aspen thinks she’s trapped, but she still has the grounds. I hope she doesn’t try to hike on her own. When the world is whitewashed like this, everything looks the same, and it’s easy to get lost. There are hazards she won’t be aware of such as the area where the river is iced over and covered in snow. If she accidentally steps on a part where the ice is thinner, she might go through it, and, if she was alone with no one to help, it would be enough to kill her.

What if she tries to run again?

She wouldn’t, would she?

It was wrong of my dad to allow her to go to town. Not only because we didn’t want people to be able to report back on her if someone identifies her as missing—not that she has anyone who would be able to do that now. Dov saw to that. It also allowed her to mentally place her location. She might try to set out on foot, once the snow stops falling. It would be a suicide mission, but what if she thinks dying out there would be better than living in here?

With the wood chopped, I carry armfuls back into the building to stock up the fireplaces.

I walk into the old hall that used to be a ballroom.

I freeze.

Two people are standing by the French doors. They’re in each other’s arms, as though they’re about to dance. She has her hair tied up in a chignon, and has a short dress covered in beads, long gloves, and a feather in her hair. He’s wearing a black tailcoat and a white shirt, and black pants with a white bow tie. His blond hair is slicked back. They move as though dancing to a song I’m unable to hear.

Fuck.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Not real, not real, not real.

Opening them again, I exhale a breath of relief. They’re gone. Just a vision. Nothing concrete. They can’t hurt us. Not yet. They’re not strong enough.

Even so, seeing them so soon is concerning.

They’ll want their hotel back over winter.

To them, we’re the ghosts. We’re the interlopers. They’ll do whatever it takes to get rid of us.

I know my father has tried to explain some of this to Aspen, but she isn’t ready to listen yet. But she will be. The hotel will give her no choice.

16

ASPEN