Elizabeth’s head pangs, a feeling that bangs around her brain, reverberating against the walls of her mind. She feels faint, her whole body weak and legs dragging through the dirt path. Of all times to get sick, or whatever the hell is happening to her, it had to be when she finally picked back up hiking. This experience just set her back months, maybe another couple years, hiking is clearly not working out for her.
It stopped working out for her when she watched her father fall off a cliff. Her head hurt just as much back then, but she still remembers the absolute clarity she felt as she watched him slip on a rock and tumble off the cliff side. Everything was a blur after that, apparently she sat there long enough for a search party to be called. She told them her dad fell, but they continued to look for him a week after that.
There was no body in the casket, Elizabeth didn’t go up to check, but her mom told her they couldn’t salvage him. Elizabeth imagines how hard it would be to piece him back together after a fall from that height, after she thought about it she almost puked over the floor. She spared a single thought to whatever embalmer had to try before giving up, if there even was embalmer before it was declared a lost cause.
Now she’s getting deja vu, familiar painfuls pangs banging around in her head. Her legs wobble, and she knows she should sit before she trips, but the trail she’s on is relatively flat and wide, there’s no cliffs around. She made sure of that long before she step foot in this place. Her dad would’ve took one look at her before forcibly sitting her down and taking out their baggy’s filled with nuts and fruit.
Her dad is dead though, and her head hurts just like it did then. It makes her want to cry, from emotional pain.
Elizabeth’s mom would slap her if she saw her now, reprimand her and say something along the lines of, “Stop being fucking stupid, take a break before you collapse,” then she’d gently sit her down, grumble while looking around in her bag for a snack.
It says something that Elizabeth knows both her parents would want her to take a break, drink some water and wait for the headache to pass, yet she still doesn’t stop walking.
Her mind and thoughts are a blur, and all she wants is to keep walking, to push through, to show that she’s fine, that they don’t need to stop, she can handle it she can. __ __ She almost doesn’t feel surprised when she trips over a root in the ground, tumbling to the ground and with her head blessedly clear she thinks, “Ah, this is nice,” and closes her eyes.
//
She wakes up on a bench back where the cars are parked. Someone found her and dragged her back up the trail, yet even after all that work they didn’t bring her to a hospital. Not that Elizabeth needs one, it was only a little tumble.
God, she’s a fucking idiot, her mom is right, or well, the mom in her head is right. But honestly her mom would’ve said the same thing.
Fuck this, she’ll wait another year before she goes hiking, she’ll drag her mom into it next time. Doesn’t matter if she’s busy or whatever, she needs the moral support.
Elizabeth takes the keys out from her pocket and heads to her car.
It going to be a long ride.
\
There was no traffic, which Elizabeth counts as a blessing from some higher being. To whatever it is, she’s thankful. Her day was going horrible, her first hiking trip in years, a banging headache and flashbacks to her dad’s death. The clear roads must be an apology for her misfortune, to which she gladly accepts.
Forgiveness is a different story, but for now, not having to spend hours more surrounded by slow cars is enough.
It is a little weird not seeing a single car, where she is isn’t isolated, civilization just a couple miles away. But the road doesn’t lead anywhere except a couple hiking trails, and by this time anyone who wanted to hike them would be there. That’s what Elizabeth tells herself, because clearly the world isn’t in flames so there’s no way it’s ending. She just jinxed it, she’s going to turn a corner and the sky will be red.
She’s being dramatic, she knows. It’s too quiet, except for the white noise of her own car, but even that fades into the background; not quite loud enough to keep her away from her thoughts.
Elizabeth rolls down her window, immediately cool air blasts her face, her hair covers her eyes and seems to camouflage with the trees surrounding. Elizabeth rolls up her window.
She’ll just call her mom.
Her mom doesn’t pick up.
Elizabeth turns on the radio.
It’s a unfamiliar song, as if someone is singing straight to the radio. A guitar strums and fills the car with a smoothing melody.
Elizabeth turns it off. It reminds her when her dad used to play guitar instrumentals and sing along, his hands moving as if he’s playing rock music rather then the quiet sounds that actually played.
She wishes there was traffic.
//
There’s not a lot of cars out when she gets to the closest town. There’s a couple lining the streets near houses, a couple in parking lots. But Elizabeth remembers there being more cars just hours ago. There’s no local event going on, nor is today any special occasion, by all means there should be more cars out. As Elizabeth watches and listens to the road, there’s no cars driving either. She sees no one walking or taking their dog out, it’s eerily quiet.
Is she about to be murdered?
Probably not, the people in this town are sane and healthy, except for that one guy she saw years ago who she thinks was stalking someone. He was always creepy, she hasn’t seen him for years. Then again, she hasn’t come to this town in years. Not since, well, not since her dad died.
She’s going to start crying again, and she doesn’t want to cry in public. Even if there doesn’t seem to be any public around to witness her tears.
“That’s a stupid joke Elizabeth,” she thinks to herself, “does that even make sense? No public around to see it, I think it makes sense, mom would disagree. She hates fun.”
Elizabeth shakes her head, which feels lighter then it ever has been she could _cry. _
So before she cries, she needs to get gas, her tank isn’t close to empty but it also isn’t close to full.
Her tank is half full. Kinda.
“Shut up Elizabeth,” this she says out loud, it doesn’t matter since there’s no public around to hear it, “you’re being stupid.”
She pulls up to a gas station and parks next to a pump. Just as she’s about to pay she’s sees something in her peripheral, she’s almost relieved as she turns. Finally, a human being, and now that she thinks about it, she hasn’t seen a single animal since she left the trail.
Her relief fades however when she sees who she recognizes as the creepy guy from all those years ago.
So he’s still here and not in jail. Either he hasn’t been caught or he’s just naturally creepy. Perhaps Elizabeth judged him too hard before, surely with how small the town is they would’ve realized there was a stalker? So the creepy guy is just that, a creepy guy but not a bad guy.
Is she actually about to be murdered?
No, she refuses.
Elizabeth abandons the pump and heads inside the gas station. She’ll get a couple snacks, think real hard on if she needs to use the restroom, then when she comes back out to her car the guy should be gone.
The guy may not be bad but he’s still creepy.
There’s actually a guy at the register which makes Elizabeth sigh in relief. The guy, the name tag says his name is Elijah, gives her a weary smile and glances out the window before quickly looking back at his phone, fingers typing fervently.
Elizabeth nods in solidarity, looks like she isn’t the only one who thinks the guy is creepy.
She walks over to the shelves, staring at the aisle waiting for a snack to call out to her.
Just as she narrowed it down to two different candies, the cashier, Elijah, gasps. Elizabeth looks over, because something about that gasp seemed vaguely fearful.
Elijah is staring at her with wide eyes, his mouth moving like he wants to say something but can’t quite figure out how to form sounds. Soundlessly, Elijah motions towards the door with his eyes. Elizabeth looks out the window, assuming he wants her to look out the glass since she didn’t do anything to warrant getting kicked out.
It’s the creepy guy, he’s standing by the curb looking in.
Oh god. Are they both about to get murdered?
“He’s yours? You have one?”
“What,” the question leaves her mouth immediately, have one? A stalker? Was this creepy guy her stalker all along? Are stalkers common around these parts?
“A- you know! It’s- that one has to be yours! It’s only me and you here and mine- mine…” he trails off, “it already got what it wanted.”
Elizabeth says nothing, what the hell is he talking about.
Elijah’s eyes widen, “Oh god, oh god. No. You’re-fuck! You don’t know what I’m talking about do you?”
Elizabeth nods. Elijah looks like he might cry.
“They’re supposed to be gone from here, they got what they wanted from all of us. They’re supposed to be gone.”
Elizabeth almost wants to give the guy a hug, almost, because then he starts laughing and it doesn’t sound entirely sane.
“You’re doomed. I feel so sorry for you. You aren’t from here, you already have one, that can only mean one thing,” he bangs his head on the counter and grips his hair, “it was nice seeing you, but you’ll never be seen again.”
“What?”
Elijah lifts his head slightly, angling his head toward the window, whatever he sees makes him let out a real authentic whimper. What the fuck is going on.
Elizabeth does not look out the window, she does not, “Dude, tell me what the hell is going on. _Doomed? _What the _fuck? _And what- what do mean by having one? What is this one I have?”
“They don’t have names, we can’t give them names. They don’t like being acknowledged. But if this one,” he shivers and lets out a sob, “if this one is this close and at this time of day, it doesn’t care if we see it.”
“The creepy guy? The one- I thought- hasn’t he been here? He lives here, I saw him years ago! He’s a thing what- what the hell do you mean!”
Elijah slowly lifts his head, his lips wobble into a smile, it’s crazed.
“You’ve… seen it- him… before. Years ago. But you aren’t… oh my god. It must really like you,” Elijah winces, “he must really like you,” he corrects.
The lights flicker and Elijah sobs, tears rolling down his face, he wipes them before covering his face with his hands. When he looks back up there’s still tear tracks, his eyes still red, but besides that he doesn’t look like he was just crying.
“I hope I don’t have to see you go, I would like to explain more, but I can’t when he’s so close.”
The door opens, and a chime rings out through the store.
The creepy guy looks at her, smiles, and says, “Hello Elizabeth! I’ve been wanting to talk to you!”
Behind him, Elijah’s shoulders shake with his tears.
