_My body is weary, but my mind is more so. Should I grant my mind to a paid worker, so that they might fix it? Or should I stay in my home, wondering if the insanity will ever end?_

_—A Tree Comprised of Holloways_

[***]

The pie, made by the man, is buttery soft. When the dough melts in my mouth and the apple filling fills my mouth, my sleepy eyes close in bliss.

The man is feeding me, slowly, carefully, scooping up the dribbling pie from my lip back into my mouth. His amber eyes are different though, they are hard, shooting holes into my thin face. My stomach below the covers is round for once; any more bite now and it would explode. I stop opening my mouth, causing the metal spoon to poke my lips. His face turns flat in a second, eyes a void.

“Eat.” He brings the spoon back to my lips. I turn my head away. The man’s strong hand grabs my chin and whirls me back around at a speed that feels bone-breaking. “I said _eat_, Joan!”

Tears sting my eyes. “I’m full,” I mutter, “I want water.” Short sentences are the best when the man is in this mood.

He stops, face relaxing into a mocking smile. “Oh course you’re full. I make a whole pie—your favorite—for _you_, and you’re full?” He grabs the half-full pan. “Why do you always waste things?” He stands, suddenly, the chair he was sitting on wobbles before falling on the floor. The man throws the pie to the floor; the soft dough splatters onto the floor and the filling spreads like blood. It gives me a chill down my spine, more so when the man leaves the room muttering to himself.

“Where—where are you going?” I cry, his muttering is getting dimmer and dimmer. I hear the front door open. “——— where are you going!”

[***]

_Why do birds fly? Why do wolves form packs? Is the world going to end? Is anything real? _

_Why must everything be questioned!_

_Just let the flow of Fate take you in its waves._

—_La La La_

[***]

The sun is too bright, the sky is too blue, and the man left me out on the porch knowing that. But this is supposed to be a punishment.

I saw him lock the door after placing me on the cushioned rocking swing. I can’t move; locked door or not, I can’t get back inside.

So the Sun punishes me for my sins against the man, for my frail body cannot escape even this dim level of torture.

{^*^}

_Weston Hail_

Wandering from your group is hardly ever a good idea when you’re hiking in the woods. So why did I do just that?

“Weston, you idiot, it’s like you’re trying to get yourself killed,” I thump a fist against my head and start walking in the woods, trying to find my way back. The trees are tall, their thick trunks stretching towards the edge of the sky.

Staring at the sky, the sun bright and warm, I see a cloud of smoke hurling into the sky before dispersing to become invisible to the human eye.

A cabin must be nearby if that is here. My steps quicken and I hurry to find someone who could help me find my crew. It doesn’t take long before I see it, but…something seems off. I stop so I can investigate why there’s this malicious aura surrounding the area.

There is a skinny man in my eyesight, impossibly thin and looking half starved. He’s just staring into space from where he sits on the swing on the cabin porch; I’m left wondering what in the word someone like him is doing this deep in the woods.

Now, stalking closer, I see another man through the open window. He’s on the phone with someone, a hand combing through his carefully arranged hair, and laughing.

What an odd pair….

I freeze, feeling a out of eyes on me. I turn, slowly, from where the trees hid me from the cabin. The pale man is staring at me—no, maybe he’s not, his eyes go away from where I hide to turn to the door. His mouth opens and muffled words come out; the man in the window stops his phone conversation, frowning, then says some stuff in the phone before going to the front door.

I bite my lip, my legs going forward on their own accord. I know I shouldn’t snoop on people, but I do really need help. I duck deeper into the bushes and watch as their conversation starts.

“What do you want, Joan?” The man leans against the door frame, seemingly bored. His fingers are twitching on his side.

Joan, the pale man, turns his head around—not the rest of his body strangely—and asks, “Can I come back inside now, H a r o l d?”

I shiver at the strange way he says his name. Obsession and disgust is the concoction of which it is fed. What is happening here?

H a r o l d shakes his head, frowning at the mere idea of it. “I still haven’t forgiven you yet.”

“I’m not full now,” Joan pats his stomach slowly, wincing as he does, “I can eat now.”

The man’s face turns dark. “Can you, now?”

My heart starts speeding up at that, at the way he said those words. “Time to go,” I mutter to myself, crawling backwards to avoid detection. Sadly, that’s not how life wants to go, because as I stand, my foot snaps a branch.

It’s a clean _Snap!_ that has the two men turning towards me. H a r o l d looks like an eagle searching for his prey, and Joan eyes are wide and terrified. His body leans towards H a r o l d for comfort, but the latter man doesn’t offer it.

He’s too busy looking around for me.

Well…I’m running for my life and for Joan’s too.

{^*^}

The police station is stale—cold and stale. My friends are all around me, the policemen as well, listening to my story. An officer, who had suited up the moment I uttered my first word, is standing next to the door, looking at me.

“And where did you say this cabin was, Mr. Hail?” She asks this question slowly. Everyone turns to her.

“It was—oh, I don’t know really—but it seemed to be in the heart of the woods if I’m guessing.”

“Alright, suit up everyone.” The officer opens the door to the woods, the rain that had just formed pouring everywhere in its reflecting glory. “We have a man to bring to justice.”