Simon Bale couldn't completely count himself as lucky, even though he returned with a scar to prove he was a survivor. Yet, he felt incomplete.
He couldn't save the rest. This hurt lived inside of him and plagued his being as the days went by. He'd gone through several rounds of therapy, but none could help him. This was a continuous swirl one he feared he might never get redeemed from.
They all wanted to hear his story. They all waited to publish the strive, fear, and anxiety that had built inside of him for years. How could he break down almost a lifetime of distress in just a few words? How could he describe the pain inside?
To share was to heal. One of the mantras from a therapy session rang loud in his ears. If he was ever going to heal from this pent-up pain, he certainly would dig deep but would it be worth it?
Fear was like a manacle around his neck.
Could they ever help him? These faces were starkly selfish. He couldn't completely trust they wanted to help him, to save him from this lifelong trauma. All they cared about was playing hero.
His dark gaze fell on the town's sheriff. If only he knew what terror was about to be unleashed on this town. The maniac wasn't going to rest until he played out his role in the lives of the people of Willow Creek, getting his sweet revenge on this town.
How was he ever going to explain that?
Everyone seemed to have a question for him, a question he had answers to but didn't know how to shake this manacle off his neck and speak freely.
"What happened to Ethan Edelman? And the rest?"
The question hurled at him by one of the journalists had no answer. He wanted to give a word one answer but was afraid of how they all would conceive it.
The microphones before him with the number of people in the room weren't how he expected to dig deep into this. He had expected more of a heart-to-heart with the Mayor and his team.
This crowd didn't help with his anxiety. They called him brave only because he'd returned, if only they knew he was nothing close to being brave or lucky as a few of them chimed.
"Can you vividly recall what happened to you that night twenty years ago?" Detective Jones fired the unavoidable question with no emotions in his tone.
He did. How could he ever forget? The night that changed his life forever. The night that changed him in ways he could never heal from.
"It was a very long time ago," He murmured into the microphones splayed to capture every breath.
He lied. Big time. They knew.
"We're here to help you if you help us find the man who did this to you and the rest." Detective Jones hummed, concerned now in his tone.
"It was an autumn night, the air was crisp." He swallowed hard, the night still fresh in his memory.
All he ever wanted as a preteen was to go hunting with the big guys. He finally had that chance but things didn't turn out as fun as his older folks used to share each time they returned with a deer.
Why was it so hard to tell? The snapping twig and the eerie figure at the other side of the woods. Why was it so hard to forget? Would he ever forget?
"Spiral. Mr. Spiral. It's what he calls himself. Just as he waited for every other kid that night, he'd waited in the woods until the time came. There were more than a handful of other kids waiting when I awoke at this old cabin."
"Old cabin?" This journalist replied as though making sure he heard him well.
"It was an ugly sight." He stopped, swallowed again, and shrugged, "it was a long time ago.
"We are going to need you to provide us with every detail, anything that can help us catch this faceless killer. Retrace your steps if necessary, find objects, match faces, and..."
"You can't!" Simon abruptly interjected Detective Jones' words, "He's not a real person..."
Fear rose and strummed heavily in his words, his rosy eyes revealing the depth of his pain.
Maybe he was acting rashly. Detective Jones' mind raced. Acting rashly was only going to put Willow Creek in a more uncomfortable situation if his attempts to catch this maniac failed.
Simon's life was only going to be endangered if this freak learned about him.
He'd made a mistake. Bringing all of these reporters, agents and journalists here was a firsthand mistake. One he needed to correct before things fell apart.
But if this psychopath realized a victim had broken free, he'd be on the run. Willow Creek would be safe even though temporarily. If Simon aired what he looked like then the FBI would pick things up from there.
He'd been on this case for twenty years now, he couldn't afford to burn hopes and shatter the expectations of the people yet again.
The meeting aimed to publish his return. His name and identity were forbidden to be published for his safety.
Simon didn't have much to say, he did but didn't feel the need to open up just yet. He could understand that. A bit disappointed, Decker was absent from the meeting. But this journalist bore his pass.
Who was he?
Detective Jones studied the young and vibrant journalist as he asked questions and documented a few things. He'd never seen him around. Willow Creek was a small town, everyone knew everyone but here he was unsure of this journalist.
When the meeting was over, Detective Jones was nothing close to being taken aback when the gallant young man approached him to introduce himself and give Simon his card.
Julian Stewart.
He instantly knew who he was after a brief introduction. His father Robert Stewart and his wife Meredith had fled the town on the cusp of the abduction alongside other faint-hearted citizens.
Julian was back to find answers. He appreciated his efforts. He was intrigued by his prior knowledge of things, especially the questions he fired at Simon. Questions that had no answers.