Scars
By: E. Brunke The white light of the hospital room was blinding to Becca’s eyes. She stiffly blinked, breathing in stale air. An older woman-- a doctor --wearing a white lab coat walked casually into the room. She pulled a chair in front of Becca and cleared her throat, smiling unctuously at the girl on the bed while speaking methodically. “Miss Wilkins, can you please tell me how you got the scars located on your cheek, leg, and shoulder? I need a full recounting of the events again, please.” Becca gulped, not wanting to go back to that painful night; the night her life changed forever. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth and began to speak, absentmindedly blowing away a strand of her straight, long blonde hair… “Why are we out here again?” Barry Fox asked his friends standing beside him, adjusting his glasses. Becca rolled her eyes at him for his ignorance.
Around them woods composed of thick oak trees stood, each reaching into the inky yet starry sky. From above, the moon shone down upon them, barely managing to illuminate the overgrown dirt path before them. Luckily, they each held flashlights to counteract the issue. “Because,” Becca began, her tone flustered. “Most of the other people at school have taken the dare. As the trend goes, we just have to tag the old shack out here. Plus, doing this will ensure we will keep fitting in,” she explained, shining her flashlight at the dense brush around them. “What if I don’t want to fit in?” Emma Owens asked Becca skeptically. Andy Carpenter laughed. “Come on, Emma. Don’t be such a stick in the mud!” He crossed his toned arms and smiled to himself. “Whatever,” she said defeatedly. “I just came out here for the natural drawing references. Also to get a break from my mom. Lord, she can be a bit much some days… Say, these trees are inspiring.” Emma began distractedly kicking at a small stone on the trail while studying the foliage around the group. Becca rolled her eyes again at her friend. “Let me guess. You brought your freaking sketchbook out here?” Emma flushed. “Y-Yeah… What’s it to ya?” “Nothing. Nothing, just--” On impulse, Becca suddenly reached over and snatched Emma’s backpack, finding the sketchbook inside of it and leafing through the pages. “Hey! Give that back,” she cried, annoyed by Becca's snooping. Barry stepped between the two girls and grabbed the sketch book from Becca and handed it gently over to Emma. “Thank you,” she said gratefully, hurriedly shoving it back in her backpack. “No problemo,” he said coolly, sticking one of his hands awkwardly into the pocket of his jeans as he held his flashlight up. For the next few minutes, they walked in an eerie silence. The only sounds were of the crunch of their footsteps on dried leaves and of the rustle of the brush by their ankles. Eventually they reached a clearing in the woods. Pale moonlight outlined the remains of an old wooden shack. “We’re here!” Andy exclaimed, shining his light on the shattered windows. From the looks of it, after the wood rotted from water damage, the roof lost its supports and
caved in on itself. The remnants of spray paint dotted the outside of the building like a child’s colorful drawing. “Thank god,” Becca sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “What materials did we need again?” Barry answered her. “Just the spray paint for the tagging, I think.” He pulled a can of red spray paint from his bag. The others pulled cans out of their bags as well. “Let’s get to it, then!” Andy ordered his friends. He opened the door to the shack and stepped into the dark space. He shook the can and the others did the same. Emma walked around to one side of the building and sprayed a pink heart onto it. Instantly, the pungent smell of spray paint greeted her nostrils. In an odd way, considering her hobby, it was normal. She continued doodling on the old wood when Andy came out of the shack and walked over to her, a smirk on his face. “Let me guess, you drew a big--” “Yes, what else would I draw?” He said playfully. Upon seeing that Emma wasn’t amused, he gave a small frown. “What, am I too immature for you?” “Yes, you ignoramus,” she said with a weary groan. From inside the shack, a loud crashing sound rang out, followed by a yelp of pain from Becca. The two ran inside to find Becca on the ground, planks of broken wood surrounding her. Helping her up, Andy saw that there was a tear in the shoulder of her jacket. The tear went deep enough to reveal her fair skin and a red gash. He reached for the wound, but she winced and stepped away. “What happened?” He asked sincerely. She bit her lip. “I wanted to climb up into what was left of the rafters and tag there… As you can see, the beams were too weak.” She carefully touched her shoulder, flinching when her hand felt the gash. “This happened on my way down.” “Are you okay? Emma asked, helping Becca out of the shack. “I’m fine or whatever,” she said dismissively. She looked around, shining her light back towards the shack. “Wait… where’s Barry?” Emma and Andy turned to each other. They had no clue. However, they soon got their answer when Barry stumbled his way over to them covered in red spray paint.
"Messy much? Let's get out of here already," Becca said, turning to leave. Upon peering at him closer, Andy grabbed Becca's arm. "That's… Not paint," Emma commented breathlessly, terrified. "What?!" Becca shrieked, dashing over to Barry. "My God!" Sure enough, a stab wound was in his gut, blood seeping out of it and down his front. "R-Run," he ordered her weakly, collapsing onto the grass below them. His flashlight clattered to the ground. The girls screamed, clutching each other as Andy took a protective stance in front of them. The leaves rustled from the woods around them. The group spun, and Becca watched as a cloaked figure emerged from it, sprinting at them. Becca freaked out, crashing into Emma right as the figure slashed at them with a knife. Because Becca moved so quickly, the only part of her that was cut was her cheek, now oozing with a light stream of blood. Becca cried out in pain. “We have to get out of here!” Emma screamed, dashing into the woods. Becca was close behind her, but spun just in time to watch Andy confront the cloaked killer. “What the hell have you done?!” He asked the figure, meaning it as more of an accusation than anything. It seemed as if he was about to punch the individual in front of him. Before he could do anything though, the figure responded by swiftly flicking the blade across his throat. Becca watched on in horror as he reached for his throat and inevitably fell, dead, to the ground beside Barry’s corpse, his flashlight falling as well. The figure then turned to Becca, though her years on the volleyball team really paid off when she found she was faster than the figure. She ran through the woods. Eventually, she nimbly climbed a tree and hid in it. After a few minutes, she saw Emma running frantically in circles, terrified. Her flashlight was being sporadically moved about through the trees. “A-Andy?” She gulped, her voice suddenly weak. “Anyone?” Tears ran down her cheeks. She sat down by a nearby tree and took out her sketchbook. She seemed to be writing something instead of drawing. It almost seemed to be a note in case she was killed as well… Out of nowhere, Becca spotted the cloaked figure a few yards off, staring fixedly at Emma. As they walked over to her, knife at the ready, Becca covered her mouth
with her palm so as to not scream. At that point, she just couldn’t get herself discovered. Becca wished to be anywhere else than in those woods. Once she finished her writing, Emma stood up and spun around right as the figure stabbed her. She was struck right in the chest by her ribs. In horror, Emma clutched at their wrist as she writhed in pain all the way to the leaf-strewn ground, her blood pooling around her. The figure fully dropped her body and then stared directly up into Becca’s eyes. She yelped, thinking of the fastest way down and away. Before the figure had time to react, Becca snapped a stick off of the tree she was in and chucked it at the murderer as she jumped down from the tree. Landing in a bush, she screeched in pain as a branch ripped into her leggings. When she looked down at it, she saw more blood. Becca was done with blood. She sprinted off into the night, eventually finding herself at a natural pond in the woods. The dark green and murky water reflected the moon above her. Despite her chaotic and scary night, this was one calm moment. The horrors of her night did not affect the nature in the pond. It was almost reassuring. “Wait,” a voice called out from the shadows. Slowly turning around, Becca watched as the cloaked figure walked up to her. “Stay away from me! You killed my friends!” She cried, putting up her hands to defend herself, despite the fact that she had no weapon. The figure laughed coldly, wiping their blood-soaked knife on their cloak. “Really… You haven’t realized?” The figure took a step closer, as Becca took another step towards the pond. “Look at the water…” Against her better judgement, she listened to the murderer and looked into the reflective water. Becca had no other option, anyway. She saw that her hair was tangled and that her clothes were covered in blood. The figure walked beside her and pulled off their cloak. The face that Becca saw haunted her. It mocked her. It mortified her. It was her own face in the reflection; Herself holding the knife. She was the murderer... “Thank you, Rebecca. Thank you for your time in sharing your crime with me,” the doctor said with no kindness in her voice. All of the cheerfulness in her voice from
before had been replaced with spite, even if she still tried to keep it professional. Becca watched as she folded a note back into a tiny square, placing it tenderly back into her breast pocket. As she stood up to leave, Becca looked at the woman’s ID tag on her lab coat. A chill ran down her spine as she realized who she recounted everything to. The ID read: Dr. Emily Owens, Psychiatric Ward. Dr. Owens left the room, locking the steel door behind her. After a moment of sitting in silence, she looked around at the padded cell that she was locked in. Looking down at her clothing, she realized all at once that she was in a straightjacket. She felt silly that she had not noticed it before. Realizing that she was far, far past the point of no return, she laughed. She laughed the rest of her life away in that blindingly white cell, the image of all of the blood she evoked on that night constantly on her mind. Ha ha! The thought only made her laugh harder.