The Girl From the Woods

I called her again, softer this time. She didn't answer.

She was smart.

But not smart enough.

There was movement from a nearly tree, and then a shadow darted; she was fast, but I was faster. As my body collided with hers, and she cried out as we hit the ground. I pinned her hands above her head, and the light from the moon fell across her terrified eyes.

When she screamed, I winced. I hated when they screamed. I put a palm over her mouth, and she swung at me with her free hand. She caught me in the face, and the pain in my cheek throbbed. Why did she have to do that?

Beneath me, she continued to struggle; she thrashed, but it was useless. She tried to hit me again, which made me angry. So I broke her arm.

Her cries were different this time, and it delighted me.

"Now," I said calmly, reaching to the forest floor. "It's time to stop that noise."

I struck her hard with a rock. I heard the crack. She stiffened, her animal sounds weakening, and stared up at me with her eyes full of both surprise and pain.

Then she didn't move again.

I left her body there, deep in the woods, and went back to the party.