Mini Brain Dumps

Disclaimer: This story contains descriptions of emotional trauma, violence, and of domestic abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

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Trauma is a strange thing. It doesn’t always leave visible scars, but it seeps into the spaces where the light doesn’t reach, twisting our memories and fears into something that never quite fades. In my short story The Lights in the Dark, I explore the aftermath of a terrifying encounter and the long-lasting effects it has on a young woman named Meaghen. When the lines between past and present blur, the reality of what’s been endured becomes harder to escape.

In this piece, I wanted to reflect on how fear, paranoia, and unresolved emotions can take root in our lives, even when we think we’re moving forward. The story is a glimpse into one person’s struggle with these invisible chains, and how the world can feel like it’s closing in, even when we’re told we’re safe.

I hope it resonates with those who have experienced the lingering effects of trauma, and for those who haven’t, it may offer a look at just how much we carry with us, even when the lights are on.

Thank you for reading, and as always, feel free to share your thoughts and reflections below.

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I watched in horror as Sam swung in a wide circle, pulling the switchblade from his pocket, barely missing Derek and Noah as he lashed the knife through the air. He faced me, lips curled back in a snarl that made him appear more animal than human. He held the blade mere inches from the soft skin of my belly. One step forward is all it would take for the knife to pierce my flesh.

“Where is she?” he growled.

I knew the blade he held well; he had purchased it that weekend, had been swaggering around with it as if it were a trophy to proudly display, bragging about how it was an illegal blade that he had managed to get a hold of. As I stared at it, watching the moonlight glint off of the sharp edge, I was frozen in place. My mind raced at a million miles a minute as I tried to figure out what the hell type of situation, I had found myself in and how I was going to get myself out of it. Should I tell him to calm down? I doubted that would work considering how irrational he had been behaving the entire night. A part of me contemplating telling him where she was so that this could be done and over with. The image of her in the bathroom, her eyes red and swollen as she admitted he had hit her flashed into my mind. No, that was not an option.

Maisie had been a family friend of mine for a long time. Her family lived close to my house, a short ten-minute drive down the gravel road straight north of my house. We did not hang out at school as we were in different home rooms, but we sometimes talked on the bus rides home or hung out at each other’s houses on the weekend. Our families typically went camping in the summertime and we would hang out at the lake together. She was one of the closest things that I had to a friend.

I straightened my spine, squared my shoulders, clenched my teeth. I tore my gaze away from the glinting steel and forced myself to meet his gaze. It took everything in me to keep my knees from shaking as I stared him down, refusing to look away, to back down.

“I’m right here,” said a small voice from behind me.

No! Why had she come out?

My stomach dropped to my knees but I refused to tear my gaze away from the dark depths of Sam’s eyes. A wolfish grin twisted his features as he turned to face Maisie, who stood slightly off to the left behind me. He took a step forward. My body was moving before I could tell it what to do and I found myself in between them once again.

“Get out of my way,” he snarled.

I mustered every ounce of courage I had left in my body, poured it into every word as I said, “No.”

He clenched his teeth, the muscle in his jaw feathering. The moonlight glinted off of his glasses but that didn’t stop me from seeing the look in his eyes. The way he took in my body, my stance, like an animal sizing up its prey. My heart hammered in my chest as I imagined how absolutely pathetic must looked standing Infront of him in my bright pink sweater and fuzzy purple pajama pants. My eyes widened as he gripped the blade harder, angling his body towards me; a cobra waiting to strike.

Derek and Noah surged forward, each grabbing one of his arms and pulling him backwards off of his feet. He landed on the ground hard, his gaze never once leaving my face. Derek grabbed the knife from Sam’s hand, quickly pocketing it. They then pulled him back to his feet, wrapped their arms around his shoulders, effectively subduing him.

“I think it’s time we cooled off a bit,” Derek said before half dragging Sam away with Noah. Sam didn’t say a word, holding my gaze until he disappeared between the rows of tents that surrounded our makeshift campsite.

As Sam disappeared, the spell that had held me firmly in place evaporated. I blinked my eyes, and turned to Maisie. “I am telling Nick and Jessica about this,” I said. “I don’t care if you didn’t want to tell them before.”

Nick and Jessica were our employers. We had come to the country music festival as workers for one of the food booth’s known as the Starving Steer. Typically, they hired teenagers to work the booth and were our supervisors for that weekend.

Maisie rubbed her hands over her face, her dark eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t care anymore,” she said before turning back to the tent she had emerged from and crawling back in.

I breathed in deeply. Despite the events that had transpired that night, it was a beautiful summer evening. The air chilled slightly, helping to ease the anger that flowed through my veins. It was around midnight, and on any other night I would’ve maybe taken a walk to enjoy the freshness of the air, but not tonight. As I stared out at the rows of tents that surrounded our camping area all I could think was how could a night that started so fun end up so disastrous?

Sociables. That was what they wanted to play earlier that night. They had been in the middle of explaining the rules to me when Sam received a text message from one of his friends who was also attending the festival. They had asked if Sam would want to come to their campsite and party that night. Sam wanted to. Maisie didn’t. And that was when the fight started.

Derek, Noah and I stared at each other awkwardly as the pair yelled back and forth between themselves, not knowing what to say for fear of making things worse. After a couple of minutes of arguing they excused themselves to the privacy of their tent… five feet away. The thing fabric walls did little to provide privacy for their conversation. As the arguing continued, we sat in silence. I stared between the two of them.

“Um, I’m going to go to bed I guess,” I said as I stood up and straightened my clothes.

Derek and Noah echoed their agreeance and I headed back to my tent.

Once inside my tent, I changed into my pajamas and sat on the deflated air mattress. The damn thing had a small hole in it and did nothing to protect me from the cold hard earth beneath it. I put a sweater on over my clothing to protect my skin from the chill in the air.

Eventually, the arguing of the couple subsided. Maisie came to my tent and whispered, “Meaghen, are you there?”

“Yeah, come on in,” I said.

She opened the tent door and walked in, zipping it closed behind her. She then plopped onto the deflated air mattress with me seeming unperturbed by the fact that it was only partially inflated. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I am fine,” she said, casting her gaze downwards and pulling her feet to her chest.

Never in my life had I seen her look so defeated. Maisie typically was a head strong girl who didn’t take nothing from nobody. If she had a problem with you, she wouldn’t hesitate to let you know. As she sat across from me though, she looked broken. I wanted to throw my arms around her.

“You can stay here if you want tonight. It is not very cozy though,” I said, gesturing to the deflated mattress.

“No, I’ll be fine,” she said. “He’s just drunk.”

The sound of voices could be heard outside of our tent as the boys, who must’ve emerged from their tent, tried to comfort their friend. Sam continued to yell, loud enough that I am sure the whole campground could hear. He shouted many obscene and inappropriate words, more than once referencing that Maisie was a female dog. He also began to pour alcohol, the cherry whiskey that Maisie had brought on the trip, over the entirety of my tent. I ignored him and the prominent smell of cherries and liquor, focusing on my friend.

I cocked an eyebrow at her, “Are you sure? He seems really upset.”

“Yeah, I am fine, “she sighed, rubbing her eyes. “He is like his father when he has been drinking.”

“What did you say?” Sam screamed like a banshee from outside of the tent, overhearing the hushed conversation we were having.

He began to pull on the zippered door of my tent, the fabric snagging as he pulled aggressively. Uttering a few curses, he pulled, the fabric releasing itself from the zipper, and pulled the door open.

Maisie’s face hardened. For a moment she contemplated how she was going to react to Sam’s intrusion.  In the blink of an eye, she went from defeated and exhausted to stone faced and recharged, her anger reignited. She stood up abruptly, stepping out of the now open tent door and stood face to face with her boyfriend, “You heard exactly what I said. You are just like your father, a drunken prick!” she yelled at him, poking his chest with each word that she said.

And the arguing resumed.

I removed myself from the tent, zipping it shut behind me, joining the other’s outside. They stomped back and forth, screaming obscenities at each other so horrid that it would make a sailor blush. Once again, they excused themselves and returned to their tent, locking themselves inside. The screaming continued as Derek and Noah tried, and failed, to have a conversation with me.

Derek was a classmate of mine. We did not hang out much but we knew of each other and were on friendly terms. He was one of the boys in my class that were tolerable. He had a round face, something many people made fun of him for. He was the typical farmer kid and would regularly come to school in his rubber boots and coveralls, or his hunting attire.

Noah was another classmate as well. He born and raised in Kesley, the same town we went to school together. I never spoke to Noah except for in school when I was obligated to. He hung around with the same group of kids that used to harass me in elementary school, Justin and Andrew. Even though he was not a part of the bullying, I still had the scars on my fingers from where they were slammed in the front door of the school to remind me of why I didn’t associate with that group of people.

Thump!

Maisie emerged from the tent, tears streaming down her face. She ran towards the bathrooms not even closing the door behind her. Sam kicked the sleeping bag and blankets inside as he tried to untangle himself from their grip. At last, he freed his legs and pushed himself out of the tent, stumbling forward where Derek and Noah caught him, preventing him from face planting into the ground. 

“Where did she go?” he yelled desperately, looking back and forth between the washrooms and further into the campground.

I had to think quickly. There was no doubt in my mind that he had hit her. I pointed in the opposite direction of the bathrooms. “I do not know. She ran that way,” I said, and off he went, running as fast as he could towards empty space. “Follow him and try to calm him down,” I said to Maverick and Derek who both nodded. “I’ll find her.”

I ran towards the washroom and the boys took off after Sam. “Maisie,” I whispered as I got to the entrance of the bathrooms. I pushed the swinging door open and looked around. There she stood, her eyes red and puffy.

She looked up at me like a wounded animal, “Meaghen?” She looked frantically between the door and me.

“What happened?” I asked, closing the door softly behind me and approaching her cautiously, scared that any sudden movement would send her running off to God knows where.

She drew in a deep breath and released it in a heavy sigh. “He hit me,” she answered, her voice quiet and her eyes downcast. It was barely more than a whisper.

I felt the anger bubble up inside of me. I pushed it down. “Are you alright?”

She refused to look at me. “Yeah, I am fine. He is just drunk.”

There it was again. I felt an anger rise in my chest as those words rang through my mind. He is just drunk. I took a deep breath to calm myself clenching my fists. She deserved so much better than that pathetic excuse of a man.

“Maisie,” I said, somehow keeping my voice level. “He hit you.”

“He didn’t mean it.”

I resisted the urge to make a face. I had learned in school about domestic violence and the vicious cycles of the toxic relationships. Argue, then apologize, promise to never do it again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing.”

 I shuddered at the thought of doing nothing. Of standing by while he put his hands on her. But it was what she wanted.

I gritted my teeth, “Fine.”

We headed back to our camping area within the campground. On our return, the boys still had not come back. I somehow managed to convince Maisie to hide until we calmed Sam down. She agreed reluctantly. We hid her in the tent that we had all been in at the beginning of the night. I told her I would come get her when it was safe. Just as I was finishing closing the door to the tent, the boys came back with Sam in tow.

“Did you find her?” Sam asked.

I simply shook my head.

A guttural sound filled the air as Sam’s rage returned. “Where could she be?”

“Maybe she went for a walk to cool off. Maybe she went to that place you guys talked about earlier; where you went for that run,” I responded.

“I’m going to look over there,” he said, pointing to the washrooms and taking off.

Derek, Noah, and I stood in a small circle as I caught them up on what Maisie had said and where she currently was. I also informed him of Maise’s wish to not tell anyone. They nodded their heads in understanding. Just as I finished, Sam returned. We all moved to put some space between us and allow for Sam to join the conversation.

“Meaghen, I know you know where she is,” Sam said looking me up and down with contempt.

“I don’t know where she is,” I insisted.

Sam, turned on his heels and headed towards his tent, ripping the door opened to peer inside. He then moved to my tent, repeating the process. Finally, he went to the tent that Maisie was hidden in. I watched in horror as he pulled on the zipper.

The zipper got caught in the material and refused to open. He pulled and pulled but he quickly gave up and headed back towards us. I saw a flash of steel in his hand as he whirled in a wide circle, forcing Derek and Noah to retreat a few steps back.

How had the night turned so disastrous? A Budweiser fueled Samuel Wilson is how.

I was still staring at the tent that Maisie had disappeared into when a loud crashing noise sounded behind me. I turned in time to see Sam barreling his way down the path, heading directly towards me, Derek and Noah trailing behind. He lunged at me, knocking me off balance, and grabbed me roughly by the shoulders. I would have ended up on the ground had it not been for the vice like grip that Sam had on my arms. His fingers dug so deeply into my skin that I knew that my arms would be bruised tomorrow.

“Where is she?” he screamed inches from my face.

Derek and Noah stopped a few feet short of us. They were breathing heavily from the effort to keep up with Sam. The three of them must have walked pretty far. I pushed Sam off of me, straightening my sweater. I looked Sam up and down. He was pathetic. 

“I don’t know, she ran that way,” I taunted, pointing in the opposite direction of the bathrooms.

His face began to redden and I felt the surge of anger that my words had sparked in him. He grabbed me roughly by the shoulder, and half dragged me towards the washrooms. The guys followed cautiously behind us. My feet slid over the slippery surface of the mud slicked earth.

“Go check if she is in there,” he said pushing me towards to door to the washroom.  

I stumbled forward, nearly tripping over the wooden steps, and shot him a murderous look over my shoulder. Knowing that she was not in the bathroom I pushed the door open and strode confidently into the space. I walked the perimeter of the bathroom quickly, not bothering to look, and returned to where Sam and the guys stood. Even if she was in there, I would not have told Sam.

Sam raised his eyebrows quizzically.

“She’s not in there,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

Exasperated, he threw his hands up.

He surged forward, wrapping his arms around me tightly. I stiffened, waiting for the sharp sting of a blade to puncture my abdomen. But no pain came. I kept my arms plastered to my side not understanding exactly what was happening. Was he hugging me?

As her pulled away, he ruffled my hair and started laughing, “It was just a joke,” he said, punching me in the arm a bit harder than was playful.

A joke? A joke? What kind of sick joke involved pulling a knife on someone? Of having them fear for their life? What kind of joke involved hitting their partner?

You want a joke? A bike that is too tired. A joke. Pulling a knife on someone? Not. A. Joke.

He stepped away from me and then shouted loud enough for the whole campground to hear, “If she doesn’t love me, I’m just going to walk home.”

At which point he turned sharply on his heel and began to walk. Was he going to walk the hundreds of kilometers to get back to our small little town? Doubtful. It was a nice charade though.

I stood there with Maverick and Derek and smiled uncomfortably. “I guess you guys should go make sure he doesn’t fall into a ditch and die somewhere,” I said and they nodded in agreement. “I’ll let Nick and Jessica know what’s happened.” And we broke for the third time that night.

I was about to head to the Starving Steer when Maisie came running at me. She collapsed into me screaming, “Where is he? Where did he go?”

“I do not know, he just said he was going to start walking home. And then, I guess, he started walking home.”

“Oh god, I have to find him,” she said, turning quickly and running.

Frustrated, I did not follow. I, being the only sober person in the entire group, headed to the campsite of our Nick and Jessica to let them know what had happened. I strode across the road that separated our camping area from the inside gate of the festival and quickly came up on the backend of the building finding the last of the night shift cleaning up. Both of them were there.

Upon seeing me, a look of concern fell across their faces. I sat down heavily in a camp chair.

“What’s wrong,” Nick asked.

So, I told them. Somehow, I managed to not shed a single tear as I explained what happened. Once I was finished though my eyes filled with tears and I could not keep them from brimming over and spilling down my cheeks. I sobbed into my hands, placing my face in my lap. My shoulders moved up and down as I gulped air into my lungs. I cried until I had no more tears left. And then I cried some more. They let me cry, handing me Kleenex to wipe the snot from my face. They sat there beside me, not touching me, or trying to comfort me. Maybe they knew that was what I needed. Just someone to be there.

The rest of the night went by in a bit of a blur. I believe that they called the cops or that they went to find Sam. I sat in the back room of the restaurant with one of my bosses beside me. At one point they told me that Sam was being questioned in their campsite.

They locked me in the back of the restaurant so I did not have to see him. I helped to wash the dishes, sweep the floor and mop hoping to distract myself from everything going through my head. By the time I had finished, Derek and Noah were gathered around the fire. I came and sat with them. Someone draped a blanket over my shoulders and I snuggled into its softness, relishing in the warmth that spread through my body. I had not realized how cold I was until that moment.

The guys were retelling their story. At one point they mentioned something about me being a very good actor. I gave a sad smile when they said that, making eye contact with them from across the fire.

And then we went back to our campsite.

Except, it was just the three of us.

I moved to go to my tent but I hesitated. I turned to face Derek and Maverick. “Are you guys okay if I sleep with you? I do not want to be alone.”

They nodded their heads and held the door open for me. I slipped inside and into the middle of the bed, Maverick on one side and Derek on the other. Together we talked and joked until one of the surrounding tents told us to shut up. It was a nice end to a very shitty night.

The blaring sound of an alarm woke me from my sleep. I sat up quickly, my heart beating out of my chest. Maybe it had all been a bad dream. I looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, the clothes strewn about the tent, the lack of pain from my deflated mattress, the warmth of the two bodies that were pressed into both of my sides. Definitely had not been a dream.

Derek sat up, scrambling to find his cellphone. He plucked it off of the ground where it must have fallen during the night and shut the alarm off. Silence filled the air. Noah hadn’t even stirred.

“Um, thank you for letting me stay the night,” I said, brushing my hair over my shoulder in an attempt to tame my wild bed head.

Derek’s neck turned red and he turned away from me. “No worries,” he said, throwing his legs over the side of the cot. “Sorry about the mess,” he mumbled.

“All tents get a little messy when you’re camping. Don’t worry about it,” I said.

Derek ran his fingers through his dark hair, “I’m going to get ready for work,” he said and began to rummage through his luggage for a clean pair of clothes. I removed myself from the cot, scrambling over top of Noah to get to the door. He finally stirred, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

 “I am going to go get ready too,” I said as I left their tent.

The sun kissed my cool skin as I walked the short distance back to my tent. I quickly clambered in, plopping down on my completely deflated air mattress, instantly missing the comfiness of the cot in the boy’s tent. I closed my eyes and curled my knees into my chest. Today was going to be a long day.

I threw on a tank top, a pair of shorts and ran a brush through my thick hair. I twisted my bangs and collected my hair into a low bun on the back of my neck, a hairstyle that I wore almost daily, before heading over to the Starving Steer. It had been the last night of the music festival so we were all expected to pack up the restaurant and personal affects and head back to Trinity, my hometown.  

“How are you?” Nick asked as I entered, drying their hands on a dish towel.

“I’m doing okay,” I said, forcing a smile to my face.

Nick nodded. “That’s good. You can help us with the dishes and cleaning of the restaurant. The others are going to do the packing.”

I looked around. There were piles of dishes littering the entire backroom, around the sink and stacked on nearby counters. It was going to take me at least an hour to get through them all. The other workers were working on packing up the remaining food, discarding of empty boxes or helping to move appliances that had been brought in for the weekend. Of all the chores to have been assigned it was by far the easiest. I nodded to Nick and stepped towards the sink in the far corner and filling it with soap and water.

As the sink filled, I cleared a space and put down some hand towels for the clean dishes to go. It didn’t look like Maisie had shown up for work. Sam hadn’t either. I shook my head to clear away the thoughts in my head and got to work.

I finished the dishes a couple of hours later, my hands red and raw from the scrubbing of the pots and pans. As I placed the last dish, fully dried onto the stack of plates I looked around and admired the work that I had done. My back and arms ached terribly. It was a welcoming pain though, helping to distract me from the thoughts that kept circulating through my mind.

Before I left, I swept and mopped the floor before heading to my campsite to pack up my things. Nick and Jessica offered me a ride back to town. I was grateful for the offer because I had no idea how else to get home since I had originally come with Maisie and Derek.

Once everything was packed up, we began the two-hour drive back to Trinity. As I sat in that car the air felt heavy. It filled up the confines of the small space, filling every nook and cranny, the space between my fingers. Two of my classmates who had worked that weekend also got a ride from Nick and Jessica. Thus ensued the most uncomfortable car ride home.

I sat with my body facing the window, opting to admire the passing landscape and getting lost in my thoughts to the hushed conversations milling about inside. They whispered among themselves quietly, but on occasion I would catch them glimpsing at me in the reflection of the window. A part of me wanted to scream at them to ask instead of gossiping. The other was grateful because there was no way I wouldn’t immediately burst into tears if I had to tell the story again.

As we rounded the corner onto the main street of Trinity, I looked at the cars that were lining the street, praying that my sisters would be among them. If she was there that meant that I could immediately go home, that I could go to sleep, that I wouldn’t have to socialize with anyone. But no matter how hard I looked I couldn’t see her vehicle among those in the parking lot. Damn it!

As I got out of the car, I turn to see Maisie emerge from the vehicle that Jessica had been driving. I was immediately relieved. She gave me a sad smile before averting her eyes to the ground. I watched as she walked to the sidewalk and plopped down on the curb. I sat down beside her.

“How are you?” I said, immediately regretting asking. Of course, she wasn’t alright. I was barely okay.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m fine.”

I tried to think of something to say, something to talk about that wasn’t last night. “Any plans for when you get home?” I asked.

“Not really,” she answered, hugging her knees to her chest and staring off into the distance.

I could feel the stares burning themselves into the back of my head. She probably could to. “I’m probably going to have an hour-long shower. I feel like I am covered in grease,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” she said. 

At that moment, I heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. I looked up, hoping that it was my sister, but instead I saw the small frame of Tyson, my boyfriend, riding on a quad down the main street. Great, one of the last people I would like to see at this moment.

He pulled up, and with a quirked eyebrow said, “I didn’t expect to see you here.” He strode towards me and enveloped me in a hug. I forced a smile onto my face and hugged him back stiffly. “How was the weekend?” he asked.

I groaned internally. Maisie looked like she was about to burst into tears. Oh god, this was not going well.

“It was great,” I answered. There was no way in hell I was going to bring up what had happened, not with Maisie sitting there looking like she was barely holding herself together. “How was your family reunion?” I said, hoping to steer the direction of the conversation away from the country music festival.

“It was good. I got to see a lot of my cousins that I haven’t seen in a long time.”

My nerves took over and I launched into a mostly one-sided conversation in the hopes of distracting Tyson from asking Maisie why she looked like hell. In the span of ten minutes, I talked about how I learned to make the deep-fried tortilla shells for the taco salad bowls, how one of our coworkers had burned her wrist really badly, how I had bought a new pair of flip flops because mine had broken. I was running out of things to say when I heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. My heart leapt for joy when I saw my sister’s small white Honda Civic pull around the corner of the building. Finally, the charade was over.  

I jumped into her car waving goodbye, that fake smile plastered across my face the whole time. And there it stayed until we disappeared around a corner and vanished from sight. The smile immediately melted from my face and I sunk into the seat, wishing that it would swallow me whole.

My sister had never really been one for subtlety, and was very good at noticing slight changes in my behavior. “Did something happen? You are acting weird. I thought you would be jumping up and down to tell me about your weekend,” my sister said, glancing sideways at me.

The walls that I had been building brick by brick on the car ride home immediately fell. Tears began to stream down my face as I buried my face in my hands. Through sobs and uneven shakes of my shoulders I explained what had happened. She remained steely eyed as I spoke about the argument, the alcohol, the knife. His face. She sat there quietly the entire time.

 “You have to tell dad what happened,” she said, concerned etched in her face.

I promised that I would. And I did. The look on my father’s face as I told him what had happened was terrifying. Typically, my father had very limited reactions to things, a smile or a frown was the range of his emotion, but not this time. His face turned red face and he clenched his teeth while balling his hands into fists at his side. If looks could kill, Sam would be dead.

___

My heart raced inside my chest. I could see the flash of a blade as he whirled in a wide circle. I saw the manic look on his face as he approached me, screaming at me about where she was. The slow tilt of his head as I watched the thoughts whirl behind his eyes. He was going to do it. He was going to kill me.

I jolted upright in my bed. My body slick with sweat as I gulped in breaths of air. As I looked around I half-expected Sam to be watching me from the far corner of my room, or to see his face peering at me through the glass of my window. I closed my eyes and focused on steadying my breath. Inhale…. Hold for five seconds…. Exhale….

When my breathing had stabilized, I got to my feet shakily. I ran my hand along the wall, the texturing helping to calm me as I stumbled to the light switch. The room illuminated and I turned to see that no one was perched in the corner. A weight that had been on my shoulders lifted and I breathed a sigh of relief. I was just being stupid.

Still, it felt like someone was watching me. I peered out the window. Clear. I searched through my closet. Clear. Then under my bed. Again, clear.

I rolled my shoulders and neck. No one was outside. No one was in my room. I was completely and utterly alone. No one was trying to hurt me.

The uneasy feeling continued to linger. I checked my room one more time with the same results before settling back into my bed. I pulled my knees to my chest, resting my head on my knees. You are okay. You are okay. You are okay.

I turned the lights off and settled back into the comfort of my sheets. I turned and faced the wall, tracing the raised floral pattern that covered the walls. After my heart stopped hammering against my ribcage, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

Sleep evaded me despite my efforts though. I huffed, sitting upright in bed, staring at the beams of moonlight that filtered in through the window. I turned on the light and grabbed the book that was sitting on my nightstand.

There I stayed until the sun came up, jumping at every creak the house made, at every car that passed by my window, at the howls of the coyotes in the distance. Only once the sun was up and I heard my father stir from his bedroom did I finally close my eyes and sleep. I was finally safe.

When I woke up, I sent a text to Tyson asking him if I could come over. He said yes and my dad dropped me off at his house later that day like he usually did. I waved goodbye to my dad and walked down the driveway to knock on the door. Tyson answered quickly, pulling me into a hug and ushering me inside.

I plopped my purse on the floor and kicked off my shoes. As we settled into the couch, I turned to him, launching into the story of what had happened. When I had finished, we sat in silence staring at each other, both of us not knowing what to say.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked after a long pause.

“No,” I answered.

He breathed out deeply, running his hands through his hair. “Well, what do you want me to say to that?” he asked.

I furrowed my brow. “I’m not sure. Maybe a ‘that really sucks are you okay?’ would be a good start.”

“Well, are you okay?” he asked.

” No, I’m not. Thank you for asking,” I replied sarcastically.

“Well, what do you want me to do? He’s my best friend!” he exclaimed.

“And I am your girlfriend!”

We sat staring at each other in silence. It felt like someone was twisting a knife in my stomach. Was he going to break up with me because of what Sam had done? I blinked hard, trying to stem the tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks.

He breathed a sigh. “I won’t talk to him anymore. Is that what you want?” he said.

I dabbed the corner of my eyes and wiped my nose with my sleeve. They had been friends for years. Was it fair to ask him to stop being friends with him? For me, it would be a no-brainer. I wouldn’t want my boyfriend to feel unsafe. But what was I going to say – it’s me or him? I never saw myself as being one to offer ultimatums. Besides, he’d probably choose Sam. 

“You can still hang out with Sam,” I said reluctantly, staring into my lap. “I just don’t want to be around when you do.”

His shoulders sagged with relief.

We spent the remainder of the morning watching Star Wars – his favorite series. I sat quietly, hands folded in my lap, staring at the screen but not really taking in anything that was happening. After a while, I curled up in Tyson’s lap, exhaustion taking over me as I fell asleep.

Later that afternoon I was startled awake by a loud knocking sound. Immediately I was on my feet, my heart pounding. Tyson gave me a strange look as he got to his feet and headed to the door. I shook off the nerves and followed after him. As I approached the sound of an all too familiar voice rang through the halls.

My body went cold, and I could feel my knees shaking as I stood in the hallway. Why was Sam here? I forced my legs to still as Tyson welcomed Sam into the house.

As Sam entered the front door he looked up and saw me standing in the hallway. He raised his eyebrows, a look of surprise on his face at seeing me here. The shock lasted a few moments before he regained his composure.

“What’s up man?” Tyson said, enveloping Sam in a hug.

“Nothing much,” he said, peering over Tyson’s shoulder at me. “How you doing?”

I crossed my arms.

“Doing great. We were just watching a movie. What brings you over?” Tyson asked.

“I wanted to see if you wanted to hang out but I see that Meaghen’s here so I’m guessing you’re busy,” Sam answered.

“No worries, come on in,” Tyson said, taking a step back into the hallway and giving Sam room to remove his shoes.

“Thanks, I’d love to,” Sam said, turning his attention to untying his shoes.

I shot Tyson a glare.

What the hell? I had just told him what Sam had done. And now he was inviting him into the house for a drink…. while I was here. He shrugged his shoulders in response, turning his attention back to his friend. I could feel the anger bubbling up inside of me but I shoved it down, biting the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from lashing out.

The whole visit was relatively normal, Sam catching up with my boyfriend using casual conversation, telling jokes, avoiding the elephant in the room. I stayed knowing that if I left Sam would pounce at the opportunity to paint me as a lunatic who couldn’t take a joke. The entire time I ensued that I kept my distance from Sam, using my boyfriend as a shield or the island in the kitchen as a physical barrier.

After twenty minutes and what felt like a lifetime later, Sam left, probably realizing that he would not be able to tell his drunken and potentially made-up version of events with me present. Before Sam left though, he made a point to pat me on the shoulder. His touch felt like a million spiders crawling across my skin. My heart slammed against my ribcage. My stomach clenched and I immediately felt nauseous. As he left, I glared into the back of his skull and crossed my arms around my chest. 

“What the hell was that?” I asked moments after the door shut.

“What did you want me to do?” he asked.

“I literally just told you that he pulled a knife on me and here you are inviting him into the house,” I said.

“How was I supposed to know he was going to drop by unannounced?”

“You didn’t have to invite him in,” I answered.

“Sorry,” he said, throwing his hands in the air.

I shook my head. “Take me home. Now.”

“Meaghen. You’re overreacting,” he said.

“Take. Me. Home.”

“Meaghen…”

“Fuck you,” I spit out, pushing past him.

I grabbed my purse, shoved my feet into my shoes, and threw my coat on before storming out of the house. I didn’t know where I was going to go, all I knew was that I couldn’t be in that house anymore. That I couldn’t be near him. Tyson followed after me, throwing his coat on as he ran down the stairs.

“Please. Let me take you home,” he said, catching up to me.

“I’d rather walk,” I answered, turning down the sidewalk.

“That’s at least a two-hour walk,” he pleaded.

He wasn’t wrong. My family’s acreage was around 10 kilometers out of town. His house was on the edge of town closet to the highway I would need to use to walk home. I looked away from his face, focusing on the canola fields on the other side of the train tracks, to the highway just beyond. It was a clear and sunny day and frankly wouldn’t have been a bad day for a walk. 

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Meaghen, you’re being ridiculous,” he said, pulling me to a stop and forcing me to face him. “Let me drive you home.”

Something in the way that he was looking at me made me pause. The look of desperation, of pleading, made my heart squeeze. “Fine.”

We didn’t talk the entire drive home. And when he said goodbye, I closed the car door in his face. I didn’t bother to look back as I entered my house.

When I got home that day, I called the cops to report the events of what had happened. The police had not spoken to me that night so I wanted to make a statement. And the officer told me that I had no case. All the evidence from two days before had already been destroyed, and that my statement was vastly different from the others report that night.

Suddenly I was transported back to the night as I stared at Derek and Maverick across the fire.

She’s a great actor….

And that’s when I realized that they had lied. All of them. They had lied about what had happened.

And a little piece of my heart broke in half.

Nothing. There was nothing that I could do. No restraining order. No solace in the fact that he would serve his day in court, judged by a jury of his peers…

He was everywhere. And if it was not him, it was his family who served as a reminder.

Maisie and Sam broke up after the events of that night. Rumors began to spread that Sam was stalking Maisie who lived a quick ten-minute drive to the north of where I lived. When I got wind of this knowledge my paranoia skyrocketed, my sense of fear heightening further. I could no longer sleep at night, my heart jumping at every sound or movement that I heard outside of my window.

The flashing lights of passing cars caused my stomach to flip and made tears come to my eyes as I feared that he was coming to hurt me for what I had done that night. On the rare occasion when I could fall asleep, the nightmares would return. I would see his face, the maniac expression, the glint in his eyes, the flash of the blade… and I would wake up in a cold sweat gasping for air.

Days passed, but sleep never came easily again. The memories clung to me like shadows, creeping into my mind each time I closed my eyes. No matter how many times I told myself it was over, that he couldn’t hurt me anymore, the dread lingered, settling deep inside me.

One evening, a week after that night, I saw Sam’s car parked along the road near my house. My heart froze, and I sank down behind the window, watching as he sat there, unmoving, his silhouette sharp in the dim light. I waited, every second feeling like a lifetime, until he finally drove away.

No one else understood—not my father, not Tyson, not even Maisie. Each time I tried to talk about what happened, they assured me it was over, that I was safe now, as if repeating it would make it true. But the fear was real, just like the scars that felt as if they were branded onto my skin.

In the darkness, as I pressed my back against the cool wall, I knew that even if he was gone, a part of him would always be there, lurking in the shadows, waiting. Some things couldn’t be escaped, no matter how hard you tried to run. Some things would haunt you forever, leaving a part of yourself in the dark, lost.