7. A walk down memory lane.

“And then what, Wilda, what next?” Damian is asking.

The world is still fuzzy, a hammer is pounding mercilessly in my head. I can hear my own pulse in my head.

I blink repeatedly in an effort to bring everything into focus. It doesn’t work as my vision remains blurry and my world continues to spin. Everything seems to be pulsing to the rhythm of my heart.

“You said you saw grey and white fur, Wilda, and then what?” Damian’s voice says. I can tell he is not shouting, but his voice is still a little too loud.

“I did?” my voice asks. I did? Was I talking subconsciously?

“Yes, you did.” He sounds frustrated. “And then what? I need to know what happened next.”

A cold feeling settles in my stomach. I gag with the need to throw up. My throat burns as bile comes up to my mouth. I swallow the bitter liquid back down. My breath becomes shallow as my heartbeat increases. I need fresh air.

“Just leave her be, Damian, you'll break her.” My sister pleads, but I only hear her muffled voice.

I reach past Damian for the door. Just a little air… I gag again.

"Oh my God, is she okay?" Fiona is asking.

Damian ignores her, opening the door and helping me out. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the tinted windows of my brother's car, as I exit the car. I don't recognize the bloodshot eyes that stare back at me, so I look away just as quickly.

We are parked alongside the highway, but no cars are passing by. I sit on the hot tarmac, taking in big exaggerated breaths to ease the weight in my chest. It doesn't work.

“Wilda, I need more, please. Tell me more. What did you remember?” my brother’s eyes plead with me. I feel the need to tell him everything, but a voice in my head forbids this action. How much have I told him already in my half-conscious state?

What did I remember? Not much… why didn’t I know I had been there when my father had died? I gag again, my stomach repelled by the ugly things in my head but having nothing but stomach acids to send up. I suddenly regret not having breakfast, or a bite of the sandwich Greg had offered me.

The sun burns hot In the sky, and Damian’s nose is dotted with little beads of sweat, but I still shiver. My toes feel numb in my shoes.

“Just leave her Damian, let’s go home and let Kate do her job.”

“ENOUGH!” my brother’s voice carries so much authority I fold into myself, cowering away from him. his voice reverberates through my whole body, commanding me to obey him. I suspect it has the same effect on Fiona as she whimpers and remains quiet.

My heart beats a thousand times faster, and I am overwhelmed by the need to flee. My head continues to pound, my skull feeling like it's going to explode from the pressure.

I feel myself standing and feel my brother's strong gaze following my movements like a hawk watching its prey.

“I need some air,” my voice whispers and before anyone can utter another word, I am running towards the woods.

“You should follow her.” I hear my sister say, her voice small and cautious.

“I've done enough, let her collect herself.” Damian replies.

I wonder how I can still hear them from this far, but my head is too preoccupied with images of my father, my nanny, and her husband. All dead and maimed beyond recognition.

What does all this mean? Why did my brother insist we see the dead bodies with him? One of us would have done just fine... and there was no point for me to be there, I hardly remembered her.

The best thing about Crimson Hills is the woodland. Our town is probably sixty percent wood. Everyone knows everyone, everyone can eat breakfast at anyone's house, and when I was very young, everyone I met claimed to have changed my diapers.

I run through the woods. I don’t know where I'm headed yet, I just need to get away from my brother and his insistent voice. My heartbeat is less erratic now, and the fresh air is a welcome gift to my lungs. The chill that seemed to be rooted deep inside my bones has disappeared, and the sun's rays peeking through the trees to my skin feel heavenly.

After running for what feels like seconds and at the same time forever, my head has cleared and the pounding headache along with it. I reduce my speed to a brisk walk and look around, taking slow, deep breaths to calm my soul.

I don’t recognize the woods, so I walk around aimlessly. Everything ends somewhere, and eventually, I will come out of a clearing.

The birds chirping and the sounds of nature do more than calm me down. The breeze in my hair, however, brings back the long-buried memories of the day my father died.

What happened that day? I ask myself. Why won't my brain let me remember? I wonder as I realize the pounding headache returning from afar. My legs continue to move on their own.

Blood. So much blood I almost smell it through my nose. My senses sharpen for some reason, I feel as if I can smell and hear everything in the woods. But I must be having one of those episodes again. Is that why I was sleepwalking? Was a part of my brain trying to tell me something? I have heard that such things can happen after trauma, at least that’s what Kate always tells me.

I find myself closing my eyes in an effort to reach the memories buried deep in my brain. Somehow, my legs continue their trek.

Slowly, gently, I reach into my memories. I see myself walking in the woods that morning, I see myself flying forward after being hit by something from behind, I hear the growl, and feel the unbearable pain as my head gets smashed on the ground… I hear my father call my name, and as I look up to answer his call, a flash of white.

I turn to my side, and when I face my assailant, I am met with a black, wet snout, and yellow animalistic eyes. My brain is slow to register the wolf before me. The wolf snarls, saliva dripping from its mouth. It opens its mouth wide and aims for my head, but it's too slow as another white wolf tackles it to the side.

The grey wolf whimpers from the impact, and my head becomes heavy as I realize that the impact got me too.

No longer with enough strength to remain upright, gravity pulls me to the ground, and my head lands with a thud on the grass. Growls continue as the two wolves fight in my peripheral. I don't see much but flashes of grey and white through my drooping eyelids.

Something red floods my vision and it takes a second for the smell of blood to hit my nostrils. Blood and organs are splayed before my eyes and a shot of adrenaline courses my eyes from the sudden fear that grips my senses. My eyesight clears up and I suddenly find the strength to sit up. ‘I need to run!’ I say to myself, but I remain frozen in place, taking in the scene before me.

The grey wolf is no more. Parts of him are in my hair and in my ears, and on my clothes, and on my skin…. And all around me... everywhere. The ground is soaked red. There is no evidence of the creature of flesh and bone I had seen, before me.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” my father is on my side, cradling my face in his hands. He is wearing his shorts only and he is covered in twice as much blood as me. His eyes are filled with concern and anger. Movement behind him pulls my eyes from his face.

‘What happened?’ I want to ask, but I only shout, “Dad!” in horror as I notice the three more wolves behind him pouncing toward us.

The world goes black in the next second, but not before I see my father’s eyes turn red and his skin turn into white fur before my eyes.