My arm hurts. Like a bitch. I don't want to look at it. I seriously don't want to look at it. But wearing a long sleeved shirt makes it ache and I might as well stare at the stitched up mark as I type the fucking post. But I need to do it. God, I was going to forget about this. To forget about this whole fucking, useless blog. But I can't now. 


October 13th was the day I turned seventeen. Four weeks ago they found Sarah's body, cracked and twisted, stuffed in the back of the school, under the graffiti tree. In between all the scratched out hearts and all the names that preceded the exclamation “was here!” was Sarah, spread everywhere. As in...everywhere. They thought it wasn't her body—they couldn't tell from what they found. I...her head...it was...


They canceled school for the rest of the week because really, who the fuck was going to go around sending their kids into the goddamn streets with a brutal murdering fuck up around? The news media jumped at it. They tried to interview Sarah's friends, but a senior guy punched one of the reporters in the face. I'm glad. I'm fucking glad. It's all disguising.


Chelle had been...strange in the last couple of days. It's...worrying. Terrifying, actually. She kept having nightmares and it sure as shit didn't get any better when they told everyone what had happened to Sarah (they tried to keep it a secret, but word gets out, as always). Then Thursday rolled around and...and I didn't know what to do. I'm finally seventeen, and all I want to do is crawl on a train, stay hidden underneath a seat, and let it take me away.


But Chelle had a weird idea. She wanted to take me hitchhiking. I had to tell B.B to make it seem like me and her were in the same room for most of the day in case mom came home early because I needed to go. I needed to escape from here. The clustered room and worried phone calls and all that anger and bottled up fear. So we drove away and let ourselves be swallowed whole by the forest.


I can't describe how it looked like. I know it was beautiful. I know we were talking of random bits of nothingness. I'm seventeen, the forest is green, the water is running not far. I can hear birds and singing and I'm floating for a little bit. There was no fear. Just the sound of leaves beneath my feet and the forest breathing around us, the branches everywhere, stretched out like the awaiting arms of a mother or father, wrapping you like a child and keeping you safe. I stretched out my arms, the leaves brushing against my fingertips, droplets of cool water sliding down my skin.


And then it all froze for a moment, because Chelle had stopped.


I'd been walking behind her for a long time. Her blonde hair my main point of direction as she traveled through out the green land. But she stopped so suddenly, jolted up like someone had screamed her name.


Maybe someone did.


I know things grew bleaker, cold. “What is it?”


But she didn't answer. She half turned, looking right at me and yet far away from me. Glancing past me like I was invisible. A ghost. “Chelle?”


She held up her hand. It shot upwards so fast I thought she was gonna hit me. I wanted to whirl around to see what she was looking at, but she wasn't looking at anything. She couldn't have been because she was staring right at me. Suddenly, I couldn't hear fucking birds or water or even our own breathing. It was all so quiet. My heart started hammering at some point because a chill began creeping on me, but not the usual way. It was strange. Like the wind was reaching out for me. I felt...strokes, on my back, on my neck, in my arms, from the wind. From the fucking wind. I held my breath, like when you can hear your parents yelling at two in the morning and you're afraid to open the door in case what's echoing from the walls turns into a reality, and began turning slowly, but she shook her head. Ever so slightly. I tried talking again, but she stopped me.


Then...the blood drained from her face. In a second. She opened her mouth, like she was about to scream. Like she was about to fucking explode into a million pieces in place. Her muscles went tense, she went all rigid, her lips went white, her eyes bulged out. What what what what.


Then she screamed. Loud and bellowing enough that it almost flew me backwards. But I couldn't fall. I couldn't because she shot forward and grabbed my hand. And she pulled me. “RUN, FUCKING RUN”


That's what I remember. Her screaming. And then I heard it. As we were running. Someone behind us, charging, but not in one direction. The noise. From everywhere. My left, my right, like it was coming from behind every tree at every second. I somehow knew it was one, just one fucking thing, and yet I wasn't sure.


“ALEX, FUCKING RUN!”


Chelle was screaming, everywhere—and then, it was a blur. We were by a hill. Trying to get back to the outer part. And then I felt it. Huge bludgeon to the arm, knocking me off balance. I screamed, I was terrified. What the fuck had hit me, and why had it hit me. I think I was screaming. I think Chelle screamed afterward. I don't know. All I remember is the pain, the fact that whatever the fuck hit me did it with so much force I lost my balance and started tumbling down. Branches, rocks, snapping at my arms and legs and everywhere. I called out to Chelle, and then...


I think I heard someone laugh.


I know Chelle tried to get down to where I was, but I wasn't thinking. I tried to get right back up, but I heard someone scream. Not like fear. More like...anger. And I tried to crawl up, but there was no way without sliding back down. I think I was crying because the ground was blurry and so was everything around me. By the time I started running again, my voice was raw. I couldn't keep calling out for Chelle anymore. Then I heard the footsteps again. All that running. I didn't want to stop moving, no matter what.


Then, right the fuck out of nowhere, I heard a laugh. Loud, ringing, chuckle that I couldn't identify. I turned and turned and turned and then—it slid, across my shoulder, ripping my flesh, oozing out blood. I tried to turn as soon as I felt it, but there was that slashing again. Twice, I tripped trying to look around. It's all a blur. A blur of pain and screaming and footsteps. I tripped but I crawled up in two seconds and kept running, the blood running down my arm.


At some point, the pain increased. Something had grabbed to me. I turned with my hand in a fist to scream but-


It was Chelle, and she was dragging me away. Her hand was grasping onto my arm, and it pulsed and burned, but I didn't want to keep screaming. We ran and ran and the forest spit us out into the street, my arm covered in red and Chelle's hand stained with my blood. I could tell she was crying too, but not as much, because I heard it in the quiver of her voice, the hurrying of her tone. “Get up, Alex. Get up. Get the fuck up.”


She carried me to her car and drove me to an emergency room. I got stitches, my parents were called, and soon enough, house arrest.


I can still see it now, a big fucking X on my arm, stitches and red on it. I wasn't going to leave the house. I wasn't going to let B.B fucking walk around. I needed to stay locked. To be safe. And I was.


And then I got the news.


Chelle...you've been gone for a week and I didn't even fucking know. WHERE ARE YOU?


-Alex