Unfamiliar Territory

I woke up in the back seat of Mr. Mallard’s car. No chains, same jeans, but I was now wearing some black turtle-neck sweater that I had never seen before. I was tied up, my wrists held together behind my back by what felt like rope. I looked out a window and could see that we were driving through a deserted town. The streets and shops illuminated a dull orange from the setting sun. I looked over at the rearview mirror and saw a bright pair of green eyes staring back at me.

“He’s awake, Mr. Mallard,” Kat said, focusing back on the road. Mr. Mallard sat in the passenger seat; he did not once look back towards me.

“Do you remember your task, kit? You will have a nice and pleasant date with Mouse, you will smooth the path for her growing affections towards you, and above all you will give her no indication that you associate with us.”

I glared at the back of his head until he turned around. The fierceness of his own glare almost made me look away, but I refused.

“Is there something you would like to say, kit?” he asked me.

There were a few choice things that came to mind immediately, but I stuck with something clear. “I’m not helping you freaks get her back,” I swore. The bruises around my neck hurt my throat, but it wasn’t enough to keep me from talking. “Now I know why she isn’t with you guys anymore. She was smart enough to see the monsters you were from the start.”

“You don’t know anything, Foxy,” Kat said. I saw her hands tighten on the wheel. “You don’t know what—”

“That is enough, Kat, be silent!” Mr. Mallard snapped. Her knuckles were still white, but Kat said nothing further. Mr. Mallard kept his eyes on me. “This is not a choice for you any longer. You will obey, or there will be punishment for your disobedience.”

Kat pulled the car up to a parking spot near the curb. The Sorrow had returned in this area. Though it was not as thick as it usually was, there still weren’t any people out, hardly even any cars. Mr. Mallard reached for something in his pants pocket.

“I don’t care what you do to me,” I said, preparing myself for the coming attack.

Kat let out a muffled cry of pain as Mr. Mallard pressed a taser-gun against her side. Whatever words I had prepared next were caught in my throat. He held it against her for several seconds before releasing. Kat gripped the wheel even tighter, her head lowered, breathing heavily, and shaking.

“How often must I hammer in the lesson that your disobedience does not simply impact you?” Mr. Mallard said, pressing down the button on the gun. I flinched at the loud explosion of electricity, but Kat nearly jumped out of her seat. He turned to face me again, expressionless, cold. “Now do as you are told, kit, or she will continue to suffer.”

Damnit, what could I do? I kept telling them—telling myself—that Kat and the others were monsters. That they deserved whatever happened for going along with Mr. Mallard. But watching Mutt get beaten, Stallion crying, Kat getting shocked. I couldn’t bear it. No matter how much I wanted to hate them, to hate her. I couldn’t bear it.

“Get out of the car. Kat, get out and untie him,” Mr. Mallard said as soon as I nodded.

Kat got out, walked over to the side of the car beside the curb, and opened the door. I glanced at her as I exited. Her green eyes were still as unmoving as before. Her face emotionless, like she hadn’t been hit with an intense dose of electricity just seconds ago. I swallowed when I saw the knife in her hand.

“Turn around,” she ordered. I turned and stood blinking at the glow of the setting sun as she cut through the bindings on my wrists with the knife.

We were parked in front of a park. The park Mouse had suggested, no doubt. Even through The Sorrow, I thought I could make out a distant figure. It stood atop a hill near the center, past the winding cobblestone paths and various benches and fountains. Waiting patiently for me to bring her to her doom.

“You don’t have to do this, Kat,” I whispered as quietly as I could. “You aren’t a bad person. Kat, we can get out of this together.”

“Get moving,” she said, pushing me forward after she cut free the ropes from my ankles. I looked back at her for a moment. She had her knife poised, ready to strike in case I thought of backing out.

“Mr. Mallard already told you,” Kat said. Her eyes. Those eyes, the ones that still looked so completely prepared to kill me. “That is not a choice for you any longer.”

So, I walked into The Sorrow, the only path I had left. The only choice left. I thought back to all my actions in the past...however long it had been, it felt like a lifetime. I thought about all the choices I made, and I wondered if they really were ever choices. Maybe Mutt, Kat, Stallion, and Mr. Mallard had been pulling their strings ever since they had their eyes on me. But, thinking back, a lot of my choices were because of my unhealthy attraction to Kat. And they couldn’t have expected me to fall so hard for her...Unless...

I thought of the tea that filled me so full of energy. It wasn’t so out of the question that the tea they prepared for me at the graveyard was to knock me out. And if that was true, then was it so out of the question that one of the teas they made...made me fall in...love with Kat?

I didn’t want to think like that. Like something so fantastical was possible. But the more I thought about it. Fawn. The flowers. The tree. Their unnatural speed and strength. The weird tea. The strange way I’d been feeling ever since I met them. The way everyone else in school acted towards them. I had thought the other kids were just stuck up, but they had been feeling the way I felt all along.

But I still couldn’t grasp the idea that the feelings I had been having for Kat were...fabricated. Sure they had been strong, and quick, and worked perfectly to fit their plans...but...

Was it true?

I had to stop walking, because I had stopped breathing. I knew they were still watching me, waiting for me to do something they didn’t like, but my chest was threatening to burst. I was threatening to lose my mind.

Was it true?

I thought she was so beautiful. Those eyes. I felt so lost in them, confused by them. I wanted to explore them, go through them, go past them. I wanted to know the real Kat behind those eyes.

Was it true?

Did I know the real Kat now? The one that wouldn’t think twice about killing me? The one that willingly worked with the monstrous Mr. Mallard even though he tortured me, tortured her and Mutt?

Was it true?

I gripped my chest as the tears came. This was too much. It was too damn much. I couldn’t take anymore. I couldn’t do this anymore. If I ran, I wouldn’t have to see what he would do to them because of my disobedience. If they caught me, if I fought, then...

“So, it’s true,” a voice said, strong but soft.

I looked up. I wondered when I had arrived at the hill where she waited for me so patiently. I wondered how long she had stood there, watching me while holding tightly to the hat Kat made for Foxy.

“Mary,” I breathed, and the tears came in full force, and I screamed, “Mary! Get out of here! They are trying to take you back! Run! Don’t let them get you! Please don’t let them—!”

I couldn’t say anymore. I choked on my sobs as she rushed down and embraced me. She was so small, her head pressed against my chest even though she had the higher ground.

“Please, go,” I managed to get out as I held her. Some weak part of me not did not want her to go. It did not want to be left alone.

She mumbled something against my chest. I told her I couldn’t hear her. She looked up at me. I could see that her glasses were gone, either forgotten or fallen away. In their place were big, unobstructed, brown eyes glossy and fragile with tears.

“I can’t,” she said, weakly but matter-of-fact.

“Yes you can!” I shouted, pulling away from her so I could grab her shoulders. “Yes you can! You can just run and...and never look back, you can—!”

“You are a big, stupid, fool, you know?” she said between sobs, but then she smiled. “I think I really am falling for you.”

It was like having your body all at once dipped in ice cold water. I didn’t even have the presence of mind to keep crying.

It was true.

It was true and they did it to her like they did it to me. They made her drink that damn tea. They set me up to meet her, already knowing what the outcome would be. We were both their puppets, pulled along by strings. None of it had been real. Kat, Mutt, Stallion, Mr. Mallard. Even Mouse. It was all a fabrication. All a lie.

Mouse gasped and tried to keep me up as I fell to my knees, but it was futile. For awhile, I was unaware of my surroundings, of anything. When I finally came to, Mouse was kneeling on the ground beside me, stroking my head, whispering in my ear that it would all be okay.

“We can still run,” I said, finding enough strength to stand, Mouse rising with me. “We can try to escape, maybe if—”

I stopped when Mouse placed something down in my hands. It was soft and when I looked I saw the orange, red, and white hat. The fox-head shaped symbol looked back up at me. I looked back up at her and saw another sad, helpless smile grace her heart-shaped face.

“No, we can’t,” she said.

We were surrounded. It was all four of them, appearing from The Sorrow. Stallion behind us. Kat on one side, Mutt on the other. And Mr. Mallard standing atop the hill where Mouse once stood, looking down on us like we were already under his thumb.

“I won’t let you have her,” I swore, pushing past Mouse who seemed to be frozen on the spot. “I won’t let you bastards have her!”

“Mutt,” Mr. Mallard said as I charged up the hill, as calm and unmovable as when I first met him. “Sic him.”

I heard Mouse’s warning shout just before a strong grip tore me from the hill and threw me back down. The breath was knocked out of my lungs. I couldn’t move for an instant. It was more than enough time for Mutt to descend the hill after me. Mouse fought violently against the hold Kat had around her neck. As Mutt bared his fangs, I was reminded of the chase. Being helpless, weak, and on my back while Mutt prepared to finish me.

Mouse screamed at someone to stop. I wasn’t sure who. Mutt from killing me, or me from standing back up.

“Is this the real you after all?!” I shouted, putting up my fists. I had never fought someone before, but I was going to be damned if I was going to make it easy for him. “Huh, Mutt?! Tell me!”

The blow into my stomach was impossibly fast and impossibly strong. I don’t know how I kept my feet. I wanted to throw up, but I held it in. I wasn’t done with him.

“Is this... the Mutt who was so excited... that someone new was joining his club?”

My stomach was on fire. I could hardly get the words out.

Another strong hit across the face answered me. I couldn’t keep myself standing that time. I think one of my eyes had swollen shut because when I managed to pull myself from the ground again I could no longer see out of it. Mutt walked up to me, gripped me by the collar of the turtle neck, and pulled me up to my knees.

I saw no hint of the fake Mutt. The one who laughed, who smiled, who was so happy just to have friends in his life. There was only death in his eyes. No compassion. No hope.

“Is this the Mutt...that was so worried... I’d be afraid of him?”

I couldn’t hear anything. A sharp ringing sound blocked off all noise. My nose hurt and was filled with blood, so all I could smell was blood. The only eye I could see from was blurry and growing dark. But I still noticed it.

A glimmer. Reflected off the last light of the setting sun. A single tear rolled down from Mutt’s face. The face that was battered, bruised, and hurting. Just like mine. I felt the ground as he dropped me. I heard the distant static of Mr. Mallard shouting his orders but Mutt only looked down at me. I then saw his mouth move. It was subtle, so subtle I don’t know how I read the words:

I’m sorry, Foxy.

I was pulled up from the ground and another strong blow hit me across the face, knocking out the last of my light. I felt more strikes after that, but they no longer hurt. It was like dull rapping on an old wood door. I was gone from the world. I was no more. I had to be.

Still. I felt the sensation of someone grabbing my wrists and ankles. Even after I lost my final sense of feeling, there was still the sensation of movement. Of continuation. That everything that had happened so far was just the beginning.