I awoke the next morning to the sound of whippoorwills cooing atop the trees outside my bedroom. A light breeze wafted through my open window, my lilac curtains dancing in the air with every breath nature blew through the screen. The cool lake breeze felt amazing on my warm and sweaty skin, the hairs on my arms poking up through raised goosebumps. I groaned and rolled over on my back, throwing back the duvet for some relief. I opened my eyes with immediate regret, the bright morning sun piercing my retinas.
"What time is it?" I sleepily asked myself, grabbing my phone from the nightstand. 9:15 AM it read. I threw my phone down with great annoyance and sighed, extending all my limbs into a starfish fashion to soak in the cool, thin air before it turned sticky and thick within an hour's time. I rubbed my eyes as if to wipe away the piercing sun - to no avail. I laid for another minute before lazily rolling off the bed and dragging my body to the bathroom. I took a look in the mirror to face the disheveled mess that stared back at me. My thick, curly hair was thrown into a messy bun, wiry strands poking out the side in all different directions. My mascara - or what was left of it - drew thin black streaks extending from my lash line and down my cheeks. My eyes were bloodshot and dry, my lips were cracked and ashy, and somehow, the locket around my neck hung opposite down my back. "Cass, you're a friggin mess," I groaned to myself, stretching a line of blue toothpaste across my toothbrush.
I washed my face, attempted to fix my hair, and walked out of the bathroom to the smell of bacon wafting across my nostrils. I made my way to the kitchen to see my dad standing at the stove, a spatula in one hand and an egg in the other. "Did you comb your hair with a firecracker?!" he teased, retorting his classic corny Dad-joke, and wrapping me in a hug. My inner child smiled and rolled my eyes, pulling away to plop down on the couch. "How was your first night, honey?" he asked me, cracking the egg on the side of the pan and pouring its contents in with a comforting sizzle.
"It was good," I replied plainly, watching him whisk the egg around in the pan. "I met some friends. They're all nice."
"Oh yeah? What're their names?" he asked curiously.
"Helena," I instantly spouted out. "Umm, there was a couple other girls, Kellie and Alina, but I didn't talk to them much," I was careful not to mention the guys, mostly because I had no idea how he'd react. Even my dad knew I was forever alone. My mom drifted through the french double doors, entering from the sunroom and effectively saving me from the awkward line of questioning that was soon to be given by my dad.
"I thought I heard you, pumpkin!" she said warmly, my dog, Waffles, in tow behind her. He excitedly jumped on the couch, climbing onto my chest and licking my cheeks, lapping up the clean face wash I had just applied.
"Waffles!" I couldn't help but giggle, lightly pushing him away.
"How's your new friend?" My mom asked. She pondered for a second: "Oh, what's her name…" she furrowed her brows.
"Helena," I reminded her, an invisible lightbulb instantly appearing above her head. "She's wonderful, I really like her."
"Good! She seems very… unique." I smirked at this comment. If there was ever a word to describe Helena, unique was the one. "I like her too." my mom reassured me. My dad walked over, handing me a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and heavily-buttered wheat toast. Just what I needed. I smiled up at him and instantly dug in, practically inhaling the cheesy eggs. I was mid-bite into a piece of crispy toast when a knock at the door interrupted me. My mom walked through the sunroom, stood at the door for a moment, and opened it with a warm smile.
"Good morning, Mrs. Cass!" a familiar voice chirped sweetly, "Is Cass Jr. awake?" I chuckled lightly.
"She is!" my mom stepped aside, welcoming Helena in. She excitedly stomped through the sunroom, turned toward me on the couch, smiled brightly, and quickened her pace over to me. She casually plopped at the foot end of the couch, throwing her feet up in front of her as she sat in typical Helena fashion. Letting out an exhausted sigh, she turned her head toward my dad, suddenly aware of his presence.
"You must be Helena?" he asked, his eyes slightly wide in disbelief.
"You must be Mr. Cass?" she quipped back.
"Our last name is McCarthy, Helena," I informed her. She shrugged.
"You ready?" she asked. I practically spit out the ball of half-chewed toast in my mouth.
"Ready? Helena, it's not even 10 am,"
"Early bird catches the worm!" she practically yelled, exchanging glances between my parents for approval. Unfortunately, they gave it to her, my mom nodding in agreement and my dad casually shrugging as he cracked another egg.
"You got big plans, Cass?" my dad asked curiously. I opened my mouth to respond-
"Oh yes we do!" Helena announced proudly, interrupting my thoughts. "I told Cass I want to show her all around Bell Lake Meadows today. We're gonna check out the hiking trails, the bridge, the pavilion," Helena rambled off. I noticed she didn't even mention anything about The Cabin she told me about last night. I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to figure out her endgame. She did nothing but return a cheesy smile and asked: "Well what are you waiting for?" I threw my head back and let out a groan, rolling off the couch. "Ooh, I'll hold that while you get ready," she said as she grabbed the plate out of my hands as I passed her, instantly biting a piece of crunchy bacon in half. I paused for a second and rolled my eyes at her, disappearing down the corridor to my bedroom.
________________
"Where the hell even are we?" I asked Helena as we disappeared off the asphalt path and down a narrow trail through thick woods. Branches and bushes grazed against my legs as Helena maneuvered through the forest, seemingly knowing exactly where she was going.
"I told you last night - we're going to the Cabin!" she remarked.
"Was there a reason you didn't mention it to my parents? Should I be worried? Are you taking me to murder me?" I asked, half-serious.
"Maybe," Helena shrugged, yanking the wheel to the left to avoid a dirt pothole. "I didn't tell your parents because The Cabin is our little secret! It's way too close to the neighborhood, if everyone knew about it we'd never have it to enjoy for ourselves," she practically whined.
"I'm not a liar, Helena. I hate lying!" I sighed, anxiety rising in my chest. What if my parents called me and asked where I was? Would I be honest? Would they be mad?
"That's why I lied for you!" Helena retorted seriously. "Plus, I drive the golf cart. You go where I go. Blame it on me," she shrugged. I watched as we entered a dirt clearing, the trees becoming more sparse and instead replaced by thick rose bushes, unnaturally tall sunflowers, and patches of thick green grass sprouted randomly about. Butterflies danced in the summer heat, landing gracefully on the crimson roses and drinking their sweet nectar. I looked up ahead to see a dilapidated wooden structure, standing strikingly in contrast to the prismatic scenery around us.
As we neared what I presumed to be The Cabin, I examined its wooden outer walls, splintered holes strewn throughout the planks only to reveal a barely-lit darkness inside. Random cartoon characters and initials written in spray paint covered the siding, only further illuminating the stark difference between the eye-sore of The Cabin from the natural and peaceful forest that surrounded us. As we rounded the corner toward the front of the house, broken beer bottles, cigarette butts, and plastic shopping bags littered the ground along the sides. Helena abruptly parked the cart and proudly announced, "Here it is!" I hesitated for a moment and turned toward her.
"This?" I asked. "This is the oh-so-wonderful Cabin?"
"Oh yes it is," Helena responded, hopping down from the golf cart and making her way toward the entrance. I apprehensively followed suit, carefully tracking her footsteps inside. The living room (if you could call it that) was dark and dreary, littered with random antique furniture and broken chairs. The windows were broken out, only thin frayed spikes of glass remaining around the edges. I was surprised to see a heavily-worn-but-not-completely-destroyed mustard yellow couch perched in the corner. Only a few empty beer boxes were perched atop the cushions, and while I would never dream of sitting on it, compared to the rest of the house, the couch would be a steal at an estate sale.
Helena led me through the narrow hallway to what used to be a kitchen, a dining table with no chairs sat in one corner, and a rusted fridge and oven in the other. I noticed a pentagram spray painted in the middle of the floor, my stomach beginning to churn with nerves. "Isn't it awesome?" Helena asked, tracing her fingers over random carvings in the wall and carefully analyzing them.
"Um, not gonna lie, this is super creepy," I replied honestly.
"Creepy?" she questioned, grabbing my hand and leading me to a hidden door tucked in the corner next to the fridge. "Open it," she commanded. I stared at her.
"You're out of your damn mind, Helena," I told her, holding my ground firm.
"Come on, just open it! You think a boogeyman is gonna jump out and eat you?" she teased. I outwardly groaned and turned the rusted golden knob, slowly pushing the door inward with a creak. In front of me was a set of stairs leading downward to a hidden basement, the scent of gasoline instantly assaulting my nostrils and making me gag. "That's the basement. Now that's creepy, even I would never go down there. Rumor has it whoever lived here kidnapped children and burned them alive down there." I turned to Helena with a look of disgusted shock on my face.
"Okay, Helena, I am leaving," I announced, swiftly closing the basement door and walking toward the entrance. She grabbed my wrist from behind and stopped me in my tracks.
"Okay, fine, you just have to see the upstairs, and we'll go for a dip in the bay," Helena pleaded. God, I wish her energy wasn't so damn infectious. I groaned once more and allowed her to lead me up the creaky steps that could have given way with any single step. At the top of the landing, I turned into the first bedroom, greeted by a lovely stack of 30 beer cans piled neatly into a pyramid. "Ta-daaaa," Helena announced proudly. "This is the work of last summer! I can't believe they're still here!"
"Wow, Helena, that is truly groundbreaking," I quipped sarcastically, peering around the room that only held a urine stained mattress flat on the floor, more broken glass, and Helena's work of art.
Suddenly, the beer cans collapsed with a loud thud downstairs. I froze in place as Helena darted to the window, peering outside. "Police!" a deep male voice boomed from downstairs.
"Shit!" Helena whisper-yelled as we listened to thudding footsteps peruse the bottom floor. "Cass, okay, just stay calm, and follow me," she quickly whispered, suddenly darting out the window onto the shackled roof with wooden planks that barely held her up. I didn't even think, I just moved. I trusted Helena thus far, why stop now?
I followed Helena onto the roof and watched as she climbed down the lattice siding of the back porch. I followed suit, painful splinters piercing my palms with each grip. I sprinted with Helena to the golf cart, hopped on, and she spun away before I could even sit down. She pressed the gas hard, navigating the narrow trail we came down only minutes prior. I held on tightly to the metal bar that held the frame of the golf cart. My hands were trembling, my heart was beating in my throat, my breathing came in the form of shallow gasps. I was terrified. I was confused. I was operating on full fight-or-flight mode.
And for the first time in my life - I felt alive.