Freya
“Freya.” A glass shattered to the floor. I whirled around to see what startled my mother. “Run.”
My mother taught me never to back down, never to run unless there was no foreseeable way I could overcome a threat. She would never instruct me to flee, especially when nothing seemed to be amiss.
Our tiny cottage in the middle of the Emerald Forest was supposed to be safe. It was why my mother used the last bits of coin from her savings to purchase it. It wasn’t worth what she paid for – the stones that made up the foundation crumbled at the sides and one of the windows had a hole in it one of us patched up during the brutal winters. The chimney was so cluttered with filth and grime, we didn’t have a fire until six weeks after we arrived, and we couldn’t connect the gas stove right away so we were forced to eat like we were from the Middle Ages.
But that had been seven years ago. We had fixed it up, made it livable. It was the only place I ever called home.
“Freya,” she said to me again. She paled. “I will not repeat myself. You must run.”
Her eyes were wide with fear. I didn’t think I had ever seen such an expression on her exquisite face. My feet moved before my mind could decide what to do. If my mother commanded me to do anything, I always obeyed, no matter what. Survival was listening, was obedience. It was something she instructed in me at a young age, and one I clung to even now, at eighteen years old.
“What about you?” I asked, catching the doorway that would lead me into the living room and out the only door of the cottage.
I risked a glance over my shoulder, back at my mother, but her eyes were trained on the window over the sink. I tried to make out whatever it was she happened to see, but I couldn’t find what that was. I was in the dark, both literally and figuratively. What could scare her so?
“I’ll find you,” she said. “I always do.”
This was true. There were two other instances when we were at risk, and she always found me. Tonight would be no different.
And yet, it felt different, though I couldn’t offer any explanation as to why that was.
“You dare defy me?” my mother asked when I didn’t release my hold on the wood, when I didn’t leave the kitchen the way she expected me to.
“I won’t let you handle this on your own.” I scrunched my face up as I continued, “I’m eighteen now. I’ve trained with you since I was six. I can hold my own –”
“You are not ready yet, foolish girl,” she snapped. Her tone was cutting, but her words were not intended to be cruel. I knew that much about my mother. She was many things but cruel wasn’t one of them. “You think you know how to dance because you practice the steps tucked safely in the kitchen, you can step onto a dance floor and make a man fall in love? I didn’t raise you to be this naive. You are strong and you can fight. But against this foe, you will perish. You must leave.”
“I won’t leave you,” I said. I didn’t know why I was arguing with her. I always listened, usually without question.
But something felt off about this.
I couldn’t see our enemy. I couldn’t hear them. A small part of me hoped this was all in my mother’s head and she was mistaken. But the fear was in her eyes, even now.
“You don’t understand,” she said. “Survival is paramount. You must leave because if I –”
The window smashed open. Shards of glass flew everywhere. Had my mother still been standing there before the sink, her skin would have been sprinkled with it.
“Go! Now!”
This time, I turned to run, though I wasn’t sure leaving out the front door was the best course of action. Instead, I dashed into the bedroom the two of us shared and threw open the window. I heard my mother behind me. At the same time, the table splintered as it crashed to the floor.
“Don’t turn around!” my mother yelled. “Keep going!”
Her voice was a shriek, uncontrolled. Never had I heard her sound like this.
I wanted to look, to see what sort of opponent we were up against. I couldn’t hear them. Nothing but the clumsy movement of my mother and the terror wrecked on the furniture within the cottage. I wasn’t sure if I was more terrified of the fact that I had no idea what this could be or if I would be more scared if I could see it. Instead, I forced myself to do as my mother said. She was just behind me. She sounded close.
I placed my hands on the windowsill and propped myself up. Only when I was hunched as I eased out of the window did I turn to look – and I had to slap a hand over my mouth to refrain from letting out a scream of sheer terror.
In truth, I saw nothing of significance. Nothing that should have scared me the way it did.
But something moved so quickly, I couldn’t catch sight of it. I didn’t know how to explain. I sat frozen, straddling the windowsill. One foot nearly rested on the cool grass, the other on the carpet of the bedroom. I was struck with the sight of movement for movement’s sake, without knowing what it was that moved in the first place.
To my horror, my mother was not behind me as I initially believed her to be. She must still be in the kitchen, which meant she was the cause of the broken table. At least, the monster might have leapt over it to reach her.
I hadn’t heard a scream.
I didn’t know –
I leaned away from the window, ready to rush inside, to fight. I couldn’t leave my mother by herself. I couldn’t leave her to die – and I knew she would.
My heart palpated against my chest. I didn’t think I was going to catch my breath or regulate it ever again. My hands continued to shake. Cold sweat rolled down my neck.
I should rush in. I should fight.
But I was frozen with fear. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything.
What is the matter with you? This is your mother. You’ve encountered monsters before. Do something.
I sucked in a shaky breath.
One thing at a time.
I moved my leg from the outside and brought it back in. I ignored the pinch in my groin and continued to shift until I was back in the room. I dropped from the sill silently to the floor, crouching low. My eyes remained fixed on the open door, on the lit hallway, waiting for any sort of hint as to what I was dealing with. I held my breath, trying to listen for a sign of my mother, anything to assure me that she still lived.
Go to her, a voice in my head urged. Check and see for yourself.
I pushed on the balls of my feet, but my fingers clung to the wood sill behind me, almost as though they were afraid to go any further into the house. They wouldn’t let me go look for her, search for her. Instead, I was rooted to the window cell, to this room.
What was going on with me?
Why was I so afraid?
It doesn’t matter. What matters is you do something. Now. Move!
This time, I didn’t think. I pushed off the windowsill and padded across the room. My lips pushed down into a thin line. I couldn’t risk even the sound of my breath drawing the monster to me. Although, now that I thought about it, perhaps it would be better if the monster was after me and my mother could get away from it in case she had fallen into its clutches.
It was the silence that unnerved me. I wished I had the ability to hear heartbeats, but the only one overtaking my senses was my own. It echoed through my head until everything else was drowned out. Shadows edged the room, tittering and laughing at the stench of fear rolling off my body like waves towards the shore. I had never seen the ocean before but I always imagined it was as beautiful as it was dangerous. Now, I didn’t know if I ever would get the chance.