There's A Place I Knew

“You have been crying a lot lately,” Arnav commented the next morning once we had dressed and were eating in the lobby of the motel. My chin was resting on my hand and I stirred my coffee tiredly, watching as the spoon created little swirls in the watery liquid.

“Maybe,” I sighed, trying to inconspicuously to wipe away a tear that was suspended from an eyelash. It was true. I spent most of the time crying silently to myself. I woke up crying last night and haven’t really stopped since.

“You had a restless night?” Arnav asked, trying to comfort me. I sighed again.

“Yeah,” I said softly, tucking a lose strand of hair behind my ear.

“Bad dreams?” he persisted.

“Mm,” I murmured.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked, nudging my hand. I smiled weakly.

“I don’t know yet,” I said, shutting my eyes. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Arnav. It was that I didn’t trust myself. Or something along those lines.

“I am always here,” he said, smiling apologetically at me. He rested a warm hand on my arm and squeezed it, mimicking me. That brought a smile to my face.

“Thanks,” I said, giving a short but grateful laugh. I glanced back down at my coffee and took a sip. The television transitioned into a news report, cartoons fading as a stern faced news reporter gave the latest news. My attention increased as he announced the disappearance of two teenagers.

“-was first noticed at seven ‘o’ clock yesterday morning when the children’s guardian, Harold Rosen, went to wake them.” A video clip of Mr. Rosen appeared, a news reporter holding a microphone out to him.

“They were troubled kids. The girl had attempted suicide multiple times and threatened to murder my wife on occasion. We expect she kidnapped the boy and made her escape with him under captivity,” Mr. Rosen said, rubbing his jaw tiredly. As he said this, two images appeared to the left of him – one of me and the other of Arnav. My breath caught in my throat as paranoia crept over me.

“Arnav. We have to get out of here,” I whispered, covering my face with my long hair. His face was bloodless. He nodded silently and stood.

“-please report any sightings immediately to the police. Thank you,” the news reporter concluded. Arnav and I slinked out of the lobby, avoiding eye contact with anyone and raced up the stairs to our motel room. Swinging open the door, we grabbed our duffel bags, leaving the room keys and a ten-dollar tip on the nightstand. In the distance I could hear sirens.

“Someone must had recognized us,” I gasped. Arnav’s eyes were wide and petrified. He threw open the door and we darted down the stairs again. An officer was arguing with the receptionist, slamming his fist on the table.

“Go, go, go,” I said, urging Arnav down the hall towards a side door. Just as we reached the door, a janitor appeared. A short scream escaped me, and he shouted for help, immediately recognizing us. A police officer darted into the hall as we forced ourselves passed the janitor and into the parking lot.

“The woods!” I shouted, sprinting towards the forest across the street. Car horns blared as we threw ourselves through the traffic and over the guardrails. Arnav was panting as his thin legs tore through the brush. We sped uphill, dodging trees and rocks. Police officers shouted behind us, beckoning us to freeze. Arnav led us over a hill and towards a rushing stream.

“What do we do?” I asked, panicked. There was no safe way across. And the policemen were just around the bend.

“This way!” Arnav gasped, diving behind a tree and into a hollowed log. I followed him. The log was fairly secluded behind the trees and dense weeds. Furthermore, it was covered in moss, which made the entrance practically invisible to the naked eye, which made me wonder how Arnav spotted it in the first place. We crawled until we could go no farther.

Outside, I could hear the officers trampling through the leaves, attempting to cross the stream. Eventually, the noises disappeared and the only thing I could hear was our panting.