Chapter #6: The Birth Of The Slayer

Chris

"Come on, come on, come on, COME ON! What're you waitin' for, you fuckin' piece of shit. Come get me. COME GET ME!!!!!"

The demon glares at a standstill from 20 feet away, as if trying to peer into my soul. It curls its head to the side, then contorts its body to do the same, taking "looking at me sideways" to a whole new level. After staring at each other for minutes on end, I begin feeling uncomfortable, though not unnerved. Moreso Just hurting and tired. I know that once I break my line of vision it will be upon me, and I'm not going out like no dumbass. After what feels like hours, it grins at me.

"Why are you all so desperate to die? You abandon the girl, and leave your friend for dead, only to come here to die yourself. It is baffling. You cannot save either of them, especially the boy. At best, you are merely delaying the inevitable. So, tell me, Chris Clah… what is the point of this struggling? Do you honestly believe you can best me, with how wounded you are? With how superior I am to you primates, you savages? I will admit, I might not be unscathed, but how naïve are you to think you can still hold up to all that I am, even now? Is the desperation adling your feeble mind? Has the pain driven you mad? Or has your overconfidence blossomed so greatly from your minor feats against me that you have forgotten how horribly I butchered the girl's husband? How I tore your precious Juanito apart in mere seconds?" the beast questions, curiosity getting the better of it. This voice is… different. Ragged and harsh, but almost human, like it's trying to speak with its original voice, before it became this emaciated monstrosity.

"Maybe, I just wanna take a bite out of you," I growl. "Or maybe I wanna become one with a 'god' as you love to consistently claim. Maybe I'm just sick of this fucked up world. Tell me, demon, when was the last time you've actually taken a step outside of these woods? Because things are not well in the world. Humans are evil. The torture and abuse of children, the never-ending rapes of women and little girls and boys… and how nobody seems to find much issue with these matters, as if it's natural and okay to let this type of behavior continue on, to let people hurt each other in this matter, and have no justice be had of the criminals. And not only that, but with the desecration of nature, of the planet in general. We aren't long for this world anyway, with how we pollute it and ravage its resources. In a few years, this planet will more than likely be set ablaze in another world ending war, either that or global warming will boil us all alive instead… Nothing is right anymore. I've come to see this once I grew out of the ignorance of childhood.

"…This world is not worth living in anymore. I'm sure you haven't always stayed here, that this wasn't your place of origin. Are you from the wilds of Arizona, as my grandmother said, or were you from up north, near the frozen winters, higher north in Canada? And how long ago was that? Before the settlers came and butchered our people? Before the Europeans destroyed the great tribes and raped our people? How long have you stayed hidden from all the horrors of the world, while you committed your own perverse atrocities here?" I counter, trying to buy Arabella time as she painfully tiptoes through the forest, making sure to avoid any branches as she inches her way toward the unconscious Darrel.

"I am from neither. I do not recall much from before my time on this continent, before my rebirth. Just that, To someone weak like you, I was always a monster," the demon smiles proudly after remaining silent for a good 30 seconds, a deep insidiousness lingers behind its shadowed face as the demon chuckles darkly. I grip the knife tight, until I feel my fingernails dig so hard into my right palm that they break past the skin.

"I see…" I respond coldly, almost spitting my words out as my demeanor steels, glaring at the beast with a newfound hatred, a darkness settling over me now as the regard for my life vanishes completely. "So, you were one of those men… A murderer… a rapist. A demon draped in human skin."

"It seems, from what you've told me already, that the world is not much different from what I remember about 500 years ago when we first took plight across these new lands. I'm glad to hear that our legacy of domination and brutality remains undisrupted, even in these tamer times. Fathers pampering their weak children, women taking charge of their families and lives, children actually having a choice, a voice in any matter. It makes me sick. If I still had the opportunity, and my manhood to partake in the choice women in these woods, I would rule over the world, as we did when we first touched these cursed lands. And, The way humans scream is truly… enticing. It's enough to almost satisfy my hunger," the demon admits, licking its lips in a disgustingly perverted manner.

My blood begins to boil under my skin, the pain from my wounds dissipates behind the rage rising through every pore in my body. My hand, no longer in pain, my tiredness, wiped away, my hunger and thirst diminished. All that is left, is the need to destroy. Destroy this demon, this beast that was always a lesser man, a devil in all forms.

"Oh? it seems as if my words have angered you. How Quaint. Do you think of me as evil?"

"You're worse than evil. You killed my people, drove them to the point of extinction, to where we're forced to live off of reservations like endangered wildlife, and you have the gall to question if you're evil? Motherfucker, the things you and your colonist did to my ancestors… and the way you describe the progression of the human race like a curse instead of a blessing, it fuckin' disgusts me to my core. You were always a fuckin' piece of shit, and always will be a piece of shit. People like you, monsters, who live in hiding amongst the rest of us while taking advantage of the weak, deserve to be skinned alive and burned until you're nothing but ashes," I snap at the devil, baring my teeth at the monster who laughs at my words.

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to reminisce on your hollow words, as you're being eaten alive," It responds mockingly, opening its mouth wide to showcase its hooked fangs.

"When I kill you, and I will kill you, I want you to remember my face. Remember that you and your rapist descendants are the kind of men that made me into the man I am today, one who will kill you for what your kind did to my people, to my mother, my family, and how I will not stop until your kind is eradicated from this earth. When I make it out of here, I will make it my life's work to lock away men like you. While you're burning, and all you can hear are your own wails of anguish, remember my face, and how I killed you, how I made you feel the same shameful humiliation you pushed upon all your previous victims, as you waited helplessly for your death. Remember how I'll stick this knife, right through your eyes, so that I am the last thing you'll ever see of this world… I will be your end."

"The courage you have, to speak to me like that… You, a lesser being, on the verge of death… And to call ME a lesser being at that. The Gall. I'm going to enjoy making you beg for death…" the Witiko cackles dryly, then charges, leaping out at me. I dive to the side, feeling the wind rush past me. The devil spins around instantaneously, pouncing at me again, too quick for me to dodge this time. I shove the knife up and jab it into the clavicle of the beast, but not before it grabs my left arm and hoists me into the air. I glare at the beast as it holds me out of arm's reach, snickering at my lackluster power and strike. "What happened to all that bravado you carried just seconds before? Is this all you are worth?"

"You act like I'm already dead, you simple ass bitch."

"And you, you insignificant bug, seem to think that you have any chance of making it out of this situation," the devil sneers, tightening its grip on my arm, squeezing until I feel the pressure as my bones shatter and splinter in place, a few poking through the skin. I don't react, my body unphased by the devil's attack. The limb has been numb for a while now. It pulls me in closer, glaring at me while it does so. "Why don't you scream, you little savage? I know this has to cause you immense pain, just as it gives me great pleasure."

"Why the fuck do you think I'd ever give you the satisfaction, you ugly fuck," I respond. It pulls me in close enough to smell the horrendous stink drifting from its mouth once more.

"Say that to my face."

I grab the knife from where it's buried in the beast's clavicle, and bring it down as hard as I can, directly into the beast's right eye. It bellows out in pain and crushes my arm completely, squeezing until I see the bottom half of my forearm turn an ugly purple through the horrible burns. I unwillingly cry out, the adrenaline wearing off as I pull in my legs and kick the devil's chest hard. It doesn't move an inch, but it gives me enough momentum to remove the knife. I try to jam it in its left eye, missing completely as it swoops its head to the right, snapping at my face. I manage to pull my head back enough to narrowly avoid its bite, though I do feel the sting of their graze as the fangs rake off my bandage and reopen the claw marks on my cheek that were scabbing up. I hurriedly jam the knife upward, plunging the blade into the underside of the devil's chin, pinning its mouth shut. It muffledly bellows out in anger, punching its arm up, digging its claws into my abdomen. I glance down, taken aback for a few dragging seconds, before the anger flares up again.

"YOU UGLY FUCK!!!" I shout out, spitting blood in its left eye as I grab its gnarled hand and force it back out of my flesh, blood leaking out and onto the floor. It tried to hurl me away by my left arm, but I hold onto its shoulder with my uninjured hand, my jagged nails digging into the rotten flesh and skin. Opening my mouth as wide as it will go, I pull back my lips, and come down, sinking my teeth into its vulnerably slender neck.

Darrel

"Darrel, wake up, we have to go! We have to go!!" I hear a voice as someone shakes me violently, making the world spin faster.

"Where is it?" I ask, only remembering the demon, and crashing before I had been rudely awakened by whoever the fuck this is.

"Chris is buying us time so that we can make our way out of this fucking forest, now come on!" a woman seethes angrily into my ear. I snap awake at the mention of my friend, looking around to find Arabella trying to drag me out of the car. I unclick the seatbelt and tumble out of the car to look at the damage. The hood is pushed up, and the front bumper is completely crumpled on the floor, windshield cracked with zero visibility through it. It might still run, but if it does, it won't manage another big crash like that. I must've hit my head pretty hard, because blood's covering the entire left side of my face. My foot hurts, possibly fractured, and my ankle has already begun to swell from the nasty sprain affecting it.

"Wait… Where's Chris?" I ask groggily, looking at Arabella.

"He's distracting the monster for us so that we can get away…"

I get back in the car and turn the engine, hearing it sputter and fizzle out. I retry four more times until it finally cranks back to life. I put the car into reverse and slowly get the vehicle out of the ditch it was forced into, finally getting it back onto the road. I poke my head out of the broken window and search the road for Chris, finding him and the beast locked in some weird wrestling match in the middle of the road about 50 feet behind us, Chris looking as if he's gnawing on the beast's neck while kicking the shit out of it. 

"Get in and put on your seatbelt," I tell her.

"You've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," she grumbles, obliging unhappily. "Between the two of you, I don't know who has the worse hero complex." She glances back to see Chris fighting the beast in the middle of the road. "It's probably still him… and now we're all gonna die, but come on!"

"Just shut up," I groan, and floor it in reverse, peeling out as I approach the fighting pair. I blare the horn just twice, hoping it'll give Chris enough time to get away.

Chris

The devil screams out in anger through its sealed lips, managing to shove me down hard, knocking me about five feet back. I spit out the nasty hunk of flesh in my mouth, gagging at the wretched taste of its rotting flesh and decayed blood. I could've sworn I heard them start up the car and honk to let me know they're getting away safely a few seconds ago, but I'm not entirely sure if I was just imagining it or not. I try to stand as the beast glares sinisterly in my direction, but the excessive amount of wounds littering my body refuse to do much more than allow me to prop myself up on one elbow.

It sees me struggling now, and a smile spreads as the devil yanks the knife out from under its chin, flinging it to the side. It stretches its neck and jaw, before looking down upon me. I hurriedly start inching backward, heading into the woods I've been trying so fucking hard to get out of for the past two days. It waits smugly, sauntering over to me, before peeking out from behind a twisted tree.

"Where do you think you're goin' homie? You're gonna be digested and shit out, just like me," It chuckles in Juan's voice, right before a car slams against its back, causing the demon to vomit blood and grip the tree tight, trying to push back against the vehicle to no avail. Darrel parks the car but keeps it running before stepping out with Arabella and rushing over to me.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck dude, your stomach! Your arm!" Darrel spouts off, panic rising in his voice.

"Shut up… and help me up," I sigh. They pull me up off the floor with strained effort. All of us glaring at the devil as it continues to struggle, its proud and vain manner gone in an instant as it now cries out and whimpers nervously like a wounded animal. As we move around the beast, I notice that they had pinned it down completely, aside from its one hand. I look at Darrel's hand and notice he's holding a screwdriver. I wrestle it free from his grasp. "Get me closer."

"Dude, we needa get you help! We don't have time to-" but Darrel quickly surrenders upon noticing my glare of desperation, moving me close behind it. I hurry forward, and stab hard through the back of its hand, pinning it completely to the tree. 

"Someone… get me my knife in the road," I say. Darrel makes his way over to it slowly as if his leg is injured. It might be, but I can't tell. My vision is already shaky as is. 

"Thank you… for comin' back," I say to Arabella. She nods, still checking out my wounds with increasing concern.

"As much as I'd like to take credit for savin' you, it was Darrel who rushed to your rescue," she responds as he comes back with the blade.

"Thanks bruh… for not leavin' me," I tell him, grabbing the pack off of Arabella, digging out the last of the rubbing alcohol, and my lighter.

"Don't say dumb shit bruh… the fuck do I look like leavin' my brother to die," Darrel says with a hurt smile, thinking back on Juan no doubt. I move away from the two of them, standing before the devil once more.

"Your luck never seems to run out, does it savage?" It questions, blackened blood gushing out with every syllable.

"I told you, I would be the last thing you see," I growl, glowering over the trapped demon. A flicker of fear passes over the beast as I plunge the knife into its remaining eye. It cries out in a curdled voice, blood clogging its airways. I open the bottle and douse the devil in the last of the alcohol, glistening on its skin like a heavy sheen of sweat. I feel myself start to stumble, clutching at my wounded stomach in pain. Arabella hurries to catch me, almost falling herself, but holding me up. "Anybody else wanna do… the honors for me?"

They look amongst each other, before she gestures toward Darrel, murmuring, "I just wanna get this over with so we can leave."

The devil continues to screech out in fear and anger, searching for us by sound now, a large puddle of blood formed at its broken feet. Darrel searches through the car, and pulls out the torch, igniting it with the lighter, and looking at the beast. "Have fun in hell you dirty bitch."

And with that, he holds the torch against the Witiko's skin, the 100% rubbing alcohol turning the monster into a fireball. We back away, watching as the thing writhes in agony, trying so desperately to break free. It manages to rip one hand free, but it was no use at that point. It only takes two minutes. Two short minutes, for the devil to be burned up and extinguished as its charcoal body crumbles to the floor in a heap of soot and ashes. We stare on, in silence, before Darrel accidently touches my crushed left arm, the burns and slashes all roaring back to life as the danger fades away. I cry out in pain and feel the world spin around me. The last thing I remember is them hurrying me into the backseat and pulling off down the road at top speed. Then the world begins fading around me, and I stare out of the window, looking up at the bright stars, thinking, "What a beautiful night to die."

Darrel

"Look, I've answered all your questions, can you please just tell me if my friend is okay?" I demand angrily. The two officers stare at each other.

"Mr. Doress, he's still in surgery… I'm not tryin' to be rude when I say this, but your friend was really banged up, and they've been workin' on him in the E.R. for about five hours. When he does get out, we'll let you know, we're bein' posted outside of your doors for extra security, but… you might wanna prepare yourself for the worst," the female officer tells me solemnly. They both begin making their way out of the room as I feel the tears fall down my face again.

"Call us or the nurses if you need anything," the male officer says quietly before closing the door to our room. I hear shuffling beside me as Arabella moves out of the bed, holding onto her walker and IV carrier.

"Hey… he's gonna be okay. Especially after all the shit I've seen you guys pull off these past couple of days, he's gonna be fine Darrel," she reassures me, making her way to the door. I nod, unable to respond. "I'll be right back, don't try to move. You're still messed up yourself."

And with that she heads outside, arguing with the officers out of earshot. I turn my head toward the television they put on for me. It's cartoons. Like I really want to watch some fucking cartoons after all the shit I've just been through, still worrying about my brother, who might be dying on a completely different floor from me. I change the channel to the news, only to see a reporter relaying our story as they film just outside the building.

It's morning now, 11:36AM to be exact, almost noon. We're in Kaiser Hospital now, but it took a few hours to get here. It was hell getting back to town, but Arabella and I were worried about taking any extra time since Chris had passed out as soon as we started to drive back. Arabella had to climb into the backseat with him to keep pressure on the gushing hole in his stomach, while I sped down to the blockade and found out that the car could just barely squeeze past the foliage to make it around the fallen tree. After that we swerved into the woods at a slowed rate, got stuck on a stump for a second, and made our way back out. Once the vehicle was able to get back on the concrete we sped right into Garberville, the town we'd been trying to make it to for the past couple of days. We got pulled over almost instantly for the car being broken, all tires now popped, and scrapping its way noisily across the town as we searched for the hospital. The officer then quickly gave us a lift to the community hospital in town when he saw how hurt the three of us were.

The hospital was not equipped to properly deal with all of our outstanding wounds, specifically Chris', so they called us a helicopter, which took us to the Kaiser hospital in Redding. It took a good forty-five minutes to an hour for the helicopter to reach us, so the community hospital did its best to fix the three of us up as well as it could, barely maintaining Chris' critical condition, having to give him an abundant amount of blood just to keep him alive. Once at the hospital here in Redding, the three of us were all rushed to separate emergency rooms. Arabella was the first to be put in this room, followed by me an hour later. I had been given a cast on my foot and ankle, which I didn't know were both completely broken at the time, along with a few toes. My ear and cheek had been stitched up, and the stumps on my hand had been properly tended to, which was fucking disgusting to watch. Arabella's leg had been sutured and wrapped up well, though the both of us had lost plenty of blood and we each had two blood bags attached to our IV's.

Chris has been in the operating room for the past eight hours. There's been not a peep from the staff or the officers on what his condition is looking like or if there's any chance he'll make it through. Even the news reporter's information is heavily omitted, much to my dismay. I try to relax as much as I can, but feel this encroaching weight just bearing down on my chest. I close my eyes and breath, trying to prevent another panic attack so I don't wake up Arabella, who had finally fallen asleep not long ago after coming back into the room. I've already had three since we arrived at this hospital, and the doctors can't administer anymore medicine for fear of me overdosing with how heavy my morphine intake already is. I keep my eyes closed as I continue to regulate my breathing, feeling the world quiet around me for the first time in hours.

"Darrel, wake up!" Arabella says excitedly.

I open my eyes to be greeted by four nurses. One is checking my IV, another is taking notes on the monitor, while the last two are prepping a wheelchair for me and helping me into a sitting position. "What's going on?"

"We're going to take you to see Mr. Clah now, Mr. Doress. We're just finishing up with Mrs. Voelker," the nurse checking my readings responds.

"I can go see Chris now?! Is he okay? Is he awake?!" I respond anxiously, trying to climb off the bed on my own and damn near falling, the two nurses having to catch me. I apologize a lot, but they just wave it off, seeing as I'm not hurt, and help me into the wheelchair.

"He's stable at the moment, but we'll have to keep him for longer than you and Mrs. Voelker with how bad his injuries were; though the two of you will be here for another few days as well, if I'm not mistaken. And yes, he's awake," the nurse responds, giving us a slight smile. I look at Arabella to see she's smiling wide too, eyes beaming enticingly, eager to greet Chris. "But there's something the two of you need to know."

"I thought you said he was okay?" Arabella inquires suspiciously, her whole demeanor almost deflating like a stabbed balloon.

"He's stable, but any excessive stress could give him a heart attack with how much he's been through in the operating room, not to mention what the three of you had to endure for the past three days in the woods with those murderers. You have to understand, he was in surgery for almost 15 hours," she responds, nodding at the other two nurses who helped me into the wheelchair. They go ahead and take their leave back to their normal patients. The nurse who had checked my Iv stays behind to help wheel Arabella.

"Now… when you see him, he won't look the best. You guys got off a lot easier than Mr. Clah, a lot of which, I'm told, are because of the heroics he took to make sure that the both of you wouldn't need to endure the same brutalities. Because of this, we had to take some extreme measures to save him, as I said before. So, when you see him, try to react as normally as you can, okay?" she tells us, squatting down to look us in the eye.

"What's wrong with him?" I ask quietly. 

"Mr. Clah had to have his left arm amputated, just below the elbow. Unfortunately, his forearm was broken so viciously, that there was no way to save it, even if we had gotten him here to get the proper help sooner. It was too broken, and all of the blood vessels had either burst, or been severed by broken shards of bone. And that's not even mentioning all of the 2nd and 3rd degree burns covering his lower arm and hand. He's also really out of it because we had to give him a high dosage of Demerol just for the pain to be somewhat tolerable."

"So he's high as a kite," the nurse behind Arabella says to lighten the mood. We both nod, understanding completely. With that, they roll us to the elevator, taking us to the ICU. We make our way past a few people, even past a reporter who tries to talk to us, only for the cops guarding this area to shut them down real quick. We open the sliding door to find Chris on the bed, watching cartoons on the T.V. and giggling at some old Looney Tunes. He turns to look at who's coming in his room now, his face lighting up upon seeing the two of us.

"Guys!!!! Are you both okay?" Chris asks in a concerned voice, waving his stump slowly to call us inside. I smile at him, wheeling myself close to the bed.

"How're you feelin' man?" I ask, checking out the bandages covering his abdomen and face. With the amount of cushions padding his bed, his back must be pretty messed up still too.

"I feel like I'm walkin' on sunshine! Hehehe… Naw, I'm not that high, but I do feel like I'm floating, and everything feels fuzzy," he responds, his eyes shifting to Arabella as she approaches the bed. "Bella! Yay! Hey, did you know you're really beautiful?" He stops himself, realizing he's shamelessly hitting on her, a recently widowed woman. "…I'm so sorry Arabella, I don't really have a filter right now."

"It's okay Chris. You're beautiful too," she chuckles, giving him a little wink.

We 3continued talking for a good hour. Just talking, not about the trip to the woods, or even those poor souls who had unfortunately passed during our time there, but about life. What we're excited to do once we get out of here, once we go back home, our jobs, our friends, our parents. It was nice, enjoyable; a surprisingly good end to this tragically horrific weekend. As he passes out from the medication, we make our way back to our room, feeling overjoyed that he had made it through everything, the true Beast of the Redwoods.

Chris: Six Weeks Later

"Darrel!" I call out, finding him right near the front, alongside Arabella, who had beaten me here from the car. They wave me over with fingers to their lips. I make my way to the front with them, sitting down before they begin the services for Juan's funeral. They had recovered what was left of his body from up north during the police investigation of our attack. We had all corresponded a story, saying that a group of ten masked assholes had hunted us for three days while continuously torturing us until we managed to get a car and escape. So far, the story has been sticking, but I'm sure people will begin to question it when they read the actual reports of what the sheriffs and police had found in that cursed fucking forest.

Last week we'd helped Arabella plan and attend Danny Voelker's funeral. He had finally been put to rest as well, his bones also being recovered. It was extremely difficult, especially for Arabella, who still holds a bit of guilt on the matter that she'd survived, and not him. I honestly still feel like an asshole for not being able to save him either, but I try not to think on it. I've told her to do the same honestly. That survivor's guilt bullshit will only weigh you down the longer you hold onto it. The only funeral we refused to go to was for the man, James MacDonald, who had picked up Darrel that fateful night, since his family had the services up north, inside of the same forest we'd had to escape from, though a good couple of miles away from where everything had happened. Still, we couldn't go, as sad as we were that he'd died while trying to help us.

The service for Juan was good. They gave him the praise that he deserved, for saving Arabella by basically sacrificing his own safety. His mother and girlfriend both hugged the three of us, not even holding any animosity towards Arabella, telling her that it was something he had always done, throwing caution to the wind to help others in any way he could. I honestly couldn't agree more, that's exactly the type of man my brother was. They lowered him down with a bundle of yellow roses on top, his favorite color, letting the crowd each pour a handful of dirt into the pit. For a second, I could've sworn I heard someone say, "Don't forget to throw extra in for your arm homie!!" but couldn't spot anyone else reacting to the voice. I smile, taking another small handful for him and sprinkling it into the quickly filling grave.

After the service, when all the others had left to go on to the reception hall, the three of us strayed behind, and each put down a rose on top of the freshly covered grave. We all say our prayers to our fallen friend, our brother, who had been the only one to truly sacrifice himself, solely for the sake of a stranger. A true hero. As we walk off, Darrel looks up at the sunny sky.

"Almost seems like weird weather for a funeral, right?" he asks us. 

"Yeah, but it's much nicer than rain. You know how much he hated the rain, for some weird reason," I respond. Arabella looks the both of us over for a second before squeezing my arm lightly, gesturing back toward the dissipating crowd.

"I'll be waiting in the car. I'll see you this weekend Darrel!" Arabella tells us. I nod and he waves as she walks back to the parking lot. 

"How're things goin' with you two?" Darrel asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively a couple of times. "You make a move yet?"

"Dude, come on, you know I'm not gonna make a move."

"We'll you're gonna hafta at some point soon, you guys are livin' together, you go everywhere together now too… you're basically a couple. I'm pretty sure that's how she thinks of it."

"Naw dude, she just needed a roommate for the house to help pay off the mortgage, and she trusts me. But she's still grieving pretty heavily. She still wakes up with bad night terrors… I think she just didn't wanna be alone in a house that was supposed to be 'theirs', y'know? Plus, she still goes by Mrs. Voelker. We're just friends bruh."

"Well, that might be the case now, but I've seen those little glances she gives you. And it's not because you stayed with her during the whole run in with the goddamn demon and kept her safe. She seems to genuinely like you for you, stumpy."

"Fuck off," I say, smacking him with the stump of my left arm. He recoils like it actually hurts him before we both laugh a bit.

"Just give it time. I think you guys would be a really good couple honestly."

"Only time will tell I guess," I respond, trying not to think too much on it. I glance over at Juan's grave, sadness creeping back in. "I wish things could go back to normal, more often than not recently. That Juan was still here with us."

"I do too bruh… I do too. But he's proud of us for makin' it out of there, especially with Arabella. And he was lookin' out for the three of us forsure. You the most, with how you barely made it through Chris," Darrel responds. I nod in agreement. I think he's still looking out for us.

"I'm still not fully healed. My back is probably gonna be killin' me for the rest of my life, not to mention I look like Frankenstein's fuckin' monster with how tore up I am," I chuckle, imagining all the horrid scars littering the entirety of my body.

"Arabella doesn't seem to mind."

"You're not gonna stop tryna get us together, are you?" I sigh.

"Fuck no! I'm your wingman dipshit, I only pick out the best ones for you."

"Hey guys," a slender woman announces her presence. We both look back to find a reporter and her camera man waiting behind us, having prepared a sneak attack at the funeral like some fucking heartless vultures. They had done the same at Danny's funeral.

"God, not these muthafuckas again…" Darrel grumbles frustratingly as we begin to walk away.

"Wait please! We just want to know how you feel about the recent events surrounding your escape from the cult up north! And what about the claims that it couldn't have been people that hurt the six of you victims during your time up near Richardson Grove! Was it really men, or just an animal?!" she questions frantically, hurrying to catch up to us. "W-wait! At least… At least give us something!!!"

I stop and turn towards the woman, waving my stumpy left arm in her face with every word.

"Stay out of the woods. There's ALWAYS something hunting you."