Trauma Buried in the Woods

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.

I had passed the neglected shack many times while hiking off-trail, but I never thought I'd be breaking into it. The darkness made no movement or commotion, so I risked breaking a window and lighting a candle inside. I sat for the first time in what felt like days, pulling off my mud-caked shoes. Scenes from earlier in the evening flashed through my mind.

His rage radiated from every part of him: the small vein in his forehead, the straightening of his back from his typically slouched posture, his fists clenched so hard his fingers were white.

My fingernails were caked with dirt and blood. I wanted nothing more than to take a shower, but I was miles away from running water. I pulled a set of clean clothes out of my bag and carried them and the candle to the tenebrous bathroom.

Him ripping open my shirt, choking me as I struggled to get free, carelessly removing clothing items with his spiteful force.

I stared at the mirror, my body barely illuminated. I felt like a spirit, staring at a shell of myself from a distance. Carefully slipping out of my bloody, dirty clothes, I examined my new bruises and cuts, some of which were layered over other partially healed trauma.

He didn't care if he ripped clothing, hair, skin to get what he wanted. One of my ribs audibly cracked underneath him, and he didn't even flinch.

Changing into my clean sweats, t-shirt, and hoodie, I rolled my disgusting, ruined garments into a tight ball. Even the smallest movement hurtled anguish through every inch of my body.

I used his post-climax haze against him, shoving my elbow into his throat with all of my might. Every part of me hurt, but I knew I would be dead this time if I didn't get away.

Shaking my head, I brought myself back to the present. I walked out of the bathroom, carrying the single, dwindling flame. I made sure to pack up my belongings with my remaining light and then slid to the floor, pulling my knees into my chest. I don't know if it took two minutes or two hours for the candle to finish burning out.

I had almost reached the front door, when I heard him behind me. Without thinking, I grabbed a picture frame off the shelf beside me and quickly through it at him. It hit him in the chest, startling him. The old family photo crashed to the ground and a large piece of glass slid towards me.

Suddenly I blinked and my vision was gone. My heart rate picked up slightly, but I sat still, quiet. I don't know how long I sat in the darkness. I re-lived my night repeatedly: the screaming, the running, the crying. Confusion, fear, rage.

Once he was on the ground, I stabbed him over and over. He yelled, cried, begged me to stop, but by the time his words reached my ears, I couldn't comprehend them. He made no sense. I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop.

At the first sign of the coming daylight, I was out the door and throwing my bag into the backseat. I stared into the rearview mirror as I drove over the overgrown dirt road, tall grass springing up into its place as my tires passed.

It wasn't until after he'd gone quiet that I paused long enough to think. Dozens of thoughts assailed my brain. I couldn't look down at him. I didn't want to visualize him. I desperately yanked a blanket off the couch and let it envelope him before sitting back.

I drove mindlessly for a while before heading to town. I stopped for coffee, cancelled my morning plans with a quick phone call, and drove home, painfully aware of the clean up ahead of me. I pulled my car straight into the garage, quickly shutting the garage door.

I stared at the bloody blanket in my trunk. I had maniacally dug a three foot deep grave a little deeper into the woods, and now that my brain had slowed down, I was not looking forward to dragging him that far. My entire body was already sore, but I couldn't quit. Not now.

My shower had never been so welcoming. I stood underneath the hot water, watching the blood and filth swirl down the drain. I scrubbed my skin raw and shampooed my hair three times before finally stepping out and wrapping myself in an oversized bath towel.

Tossing large rocks into the grave, I hoped any scavenging animals around wouldn't be able to dig him up. When I picked up the shovel to start shoveling dirt back in, and small rabbit jumped past my fight. Startled, I swung at it with my shovel purely on instinct. I looked at its lifeless remains, tears forming in my eyes. I finally allowed myself to cry as I added the innocent rabbit to the grave and covered both good and evil with the remaining dirt.

After getting dressed, I knocked back a glass of wine, put on gloves, and started cleaning. I washed the sheets we'd laid on, scrubbed the floors until they were spotless, scrubbed my car - inside and out. I cleaned the glass, then broke into smaller pieces before putting it, along with the rest of the ruined frame in the trash.

The shovel's weight slowed me down on the walk to the car. I don't know how long I had been out there - it was still dark. Shovel in truck, sit in driver's seat, start the car, put car in drive. I was on autopilot.

Staring into the fire, I watched the final pieces of the last 24 hours go up in flames. I finished my glass of wine, curled up on the couch, and for the first time since I'd met him, I slept harmoniously.

I didn't realize where I was going until I saw the cabin. I needed a chance to catch my breath, change my clothes, and wait out the last hours of darkness.

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but just that one night, a candle burned in the broken window.