The Boys in the Woods

A Human - Logan

I look at this scared baby wolf in the cage in front of me, attempting to make no noise but also trying to escape. I hated that this cage even existed. My father wanted to catch something, anything to appease his blood lust. I knew if he saw this creature, trapped and afraid, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill it or, worse, make me do it. He always told me to be a man. If I were there when he died, he’d probably have made them his dying words. I didn’t love my father, which is horrible to say I’m aware, but he wasn’t someone worth loving. He was cruel, abusive, and destructive. I had to help this wolf cub escape or else. The problem in my eyes was what would happen once I did? Would it attack me? Would I be in danger? I didn’t care. I’d prefer to take my chances than allow something evil to happen as a result of my inaction. I opened the cage and watched him bolt out, then the wolf cub looked at me, into my eyes and soul. I swear there was something almost human about it. I felt like I was seeing the hands of a boy, which I know sounds crazy, but I couldn’t explain what I was beginning to see before it ran off.

I woke up in a hot sweat. I dream about that night often; sometimes, the dreams are warped in potential outcomes. One thing that never changes is the connection. I somehow feel as if I’m connected to this creature. On the other hand, I feel like that wolf was more than just an animal. I understood the implications I was making in saying that, but nobody else could hear these thoughts, which gave me comfort.

I place my feet to the ground, getting up and making my way downstairs to engage with my family. Since my father’s death, we weren’t necessarily a ‘happy family.’ My mom remarried almost immediately. I don’t even think the body was cold before she married my step-dad. I am not particularly fond of my step-dad, but I barely see him, so I guess it could be worse. I make sure to avoid my family as much as possible. Well, not my mom, I love her, and if I avoided her, I'd have nobody, but I definitely avoided disappointing dad #2. I walk down the stairs and see him sitting at the kitchen table drinking his coffee, sharpening his blade. My mom clearly has a type. I would put money on the fact that there was probably bourbon in that coffee right now.

‘Ah, the boy lives.’ I roll my eyes at his statement. Thank god he doesn’t see. He can be aggressive even when he isn’t provoked. 

‘I live, barely.’ I protest.

‘So what are your plans for the weekend?’ It was always weird when he even pretended to take an interest.

‘I am going camping with some friends in the forest.’ Semi-true. Mostly a lie, or a front if you will.

‘Best be careful in the forest.’ Easy for him to say.

‘Why?’ I ask him but only to give him the joy of telling me his twisted tales.

‘You know the legends, Logan; don’t mess with the forest unless you want the wolves to mess with you.’ One can only hope.

‘I guess.’ I continue to make myself some coffee before he says something purely with the intent to get a rise out of me.

‘Wouldn’t want to end up like your father.’ I didn’t like my father, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed him being mentioned negatively by my mom’s replacement husband. I avoid responding and instead made an effort to walk away with a poorly made cup of coffee crafted under duress. f**k I hate this man and I can't wait until I'm rid of him.

When I get back into my room, I head right to the laptop slain on my bed with very little care. I lay down with my coffee next to me on the side table, contemplating the lie I’d just told. I didn’t have friends who’d I’d be going to camp with this weekend. Everyone in this town was strange; I don’t exactly know how to explain it. They ran in sorted crowds. I’d lived here for so long but still felt like an outsider who didn’t belong. The main town itself was incredibly ordinary. Various shops and homes all stuck in time, with minor signs of advancement. We didn’t have those big brand stores that other counties or cities had. We had almost existed forgotten by the rest of the country. When my mom and dad said we were moving here, it was because my dad had bought a large plot of land, which he believed held oil and was eager to get rich and quick. The problem was, he knew nothing about drilling for oil. We only had the money for the land and not much else, and lastly, we didn’t know the situation in the forest was as intense as it was. It felt protected in a sense. The animals all worked together almost to drive away human interference. It was impossible to travel a certain distance into the forest if you intended to come back alive. Don’t believe me? Take my father as a prime example; he went deep into the woods and didn’t survive. The only person I’ve ever known to survive is now living in my home, married to my mother. Ronan. He barely existed before my mom met him. Nobody knew who he was, where he originated from. All we knew about him was that he lived in the trailer park community on the forest’s outskirts.

I hated my life, everything about it. Because of my genuine hatred for everything I’ve grown up around, I’ve decided to walk deep into the forest. It sounds crazy until you realize that the whole reason I’m doing it is that I don’t want to return alive. I don’t want to return at all.