Monsters

“I’ll find out.” As Mason rose slowly to his feet, he retrieved something blue and metallic from his shorts pocket. With a flick of his thumb, the switchblade extended, the knife gleaming in the light of the fire.

I swallowed hard at the sight and fought against the uncomfortable realization that Mason had the knife in his possession this entire time. While he’d been showing his good side so far on the trip, he was unpredictable. Him being a loose cannon and carrying a weapon had me nervous.

“I’ll come with you.” Lucas rose to support his brother, and hating to be left alone, I followed close behind. We inched toward the door, a rather ridiculous notion since we couldn’t see outside but whoever, whatever it was, would be able to see us no matter how fast we moved.

“Just… be careful,” I mouthed almost silently, hands balled into fists. “I knew this was a terrible idea.”

Mason was first at the door and stood adjacent to it against the front wall. With his right hand on the handle and his left wielding the knife, he swung the door open and came face to face with nothing but darkness.

“There’s nothing here,” he announced, his bare shoulders now visibly relaxed.

We sighed with relief, and joined Mason, scanning the woods. There was no movement except for the gentle sway of the trees as the breeze traveled through. A bug crawled up my bare leg, and when I bent down to brush it away, I saw the cause behind our scare.

“Look,” I said, moving past the brothers and pointing at the bare garden bed next to the step. “There’s two of them.”

Crouching down and using both hands, I scooped up the first bird and held it for Mason and Lucas to see. Its neck was broken—a result of hitting the door during flight.

“It’s a wren,” Mason observed, his finger stroking through its soft peachy-colored head feathers.

“Wrens are only small, aren’t these two too big to be wrens?”

“Not if they come from Mexico. They’re double, sometimes three times the size,” Lucas chimed in.

“Mexico is a long way from here, and when did you two become experts in bird species?”

“Ninth grade geography,” they declared in unison.

“Well, that still doesn’t explain how Mexican wrens wandered so far north.”

“Weather patterns,” they both offered, again at once.

“Okay, fine,” I said, giving up the fight. “They must’ve been disoriented after the storm.”

“Here.” Lucas carefully took the wren into his own hands and picked the other up. “We’ll bury them in the morning.”

His kind heart always made me smile. His lips twitched in return, his gentle eyes disappearing as the darkness engulfed him.

Beside me, Mason held his knife up to the light, admiring. “Won’t be needing this.” With a wink of an eye, he flicked it closed and casually slid it into his pocket. “Yet.”

~

Warmth radiated from the rock tingling my skin, the blaring sun sitting high in the sky. Shielding my eyes, I listened to Lucas and Mason banter about the best way to catch fish. In the end, Lucas set up his net in the water while Mason sat perched on a boulder with his knife and a piece of driftwood. Both boys were shirtless. Both boys carried similar blackish blue bruises marring their torsos. Mason seemed unfazed, wearing them like they represented his strength in war. Lucas on the other hand, seemed self-conscious and he tried his best to keep his body turned, hiding the worst of it. He’d debated removing his shirt and I understood why.

We had set up for the day by the stream behind the cabin. The night’s heavy rainfall had replenished the banks, and the glistening of fish could be seen as they navigated the boulders.

“Gem,” Lucas called from the other side of the stream. “Are you coming in?”

Sleepily, I replied. “Tell me how cold it is first.”

A cheeky smile crept over his face, and before I could protect myself, Lucas was traipsing through the water and heading my way.

Bolting upright before I became victim to his shenanigans, I put my hand out to plead. “Okay! Okay! I’m coming in.”

Lucas halted in his tracks, mid-thigh deep in water. “That’s my girl.”

Regretfully, I left the comforting warmth of my boulder and rose to my feet. “What’s the hurry?” I complained. “We’re here all day.” Reaching around my back, I unzipped my dress and pulled the spaghetti straps over my shoulders. Mason, who had been preoccupied with his carving, glanced up and watched through his lashes. His jaw was set strong, eyes once again telling a story.

A story I didn’t want to know.

But one I was becoming all too familiar with.

One I had seen just last night.

In the middle of the night with Lucas and me sharing a bed, Mason on the couch, I woke in need of water. Dust had caught in my throat, and I was plagued with an incessant tickle. I’d sat up in bed and searched for my robe, a chill having fallen over the cabin. Beside me, Lucas breathed heavily, lost in a dream. Silently standing, I let the robe fall over my sleeveless nightie. I’d barely taken my first step when Mason’s rumbling voice stopped me.

“I hope that’s not for my sake?”

I turned, seeing his expectant face illuminated by the glow of the fireplace. He lay stretched out on the couch, one arm hooked under his head, sleeping bag pulled waist high, his muscled chest on display. There was no disguising the salacious tone in his voice or eyes. Swallowing hard, I pulled the robe tighter around my waist and walked to the kitchen counter where my cup and a bottle of water sat.

My history teacher Mrs. Jones had told Joanie once that choosing to ignore would deter her bullies from harassing her. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking, an easy flippant remark by a teacher too busy to really care.

Pretending Mason wasn’t still watching, I drank in silence, staring out the kitchen window as the tree branches swayed in the wind. The leaves glowed a moonlight silver and glistened from the gentle rain that continued to fall.

I wondered how long Mason had been awake.

I wondered how long he’d been watching me sleep.

Swallowing the last mouthful, I placed the glass on the counter with a slight shake in confidence. Ignoring his watchful gaze, I walked back. With my gown still safely fastened, I crawled into bed, pulling the sleeping bag chin high, palms sweaty with nerves.

“Dick tease,” Mason’s cruelty cut through the silence.

~

The following day, he’s back to being Mr. Innocent. Until now.

The dress slipped down my body, pooling at my feet. Kicking it to the side, I was left standing in my blue bikini. Mason’s lips twitched, his tongue darting out sliding over his bottom lip, the knife twisting idly in his fingers.

This wasn’t such a great idea.

“Gem!” Lucas called my name again.

Shying away from Mason, I focused on the brother I adored. Crawling down the boulder, I lowered myself into the cold water until it covered my breasts. I felt safer. Less exposed. Mason continued with his carving, pretending to not be listening and watching in his peripheral.

“You all right?” Lucas asked, his brows creasing together.

I managed a smile. “Better now.”

He leaned back, his arms moving through the water in front to keep him afloat. “You know something?” There was a twinkle in his eye. “I think we should make this our place.”

“Ah… I think we already have, since we broke into it last night.”

“No, I mean, permanently. Not just for this trip.”

“That is until the owners return and see the three bears sleeping in their beds.”

Lucas smiled and swished a wave of water my way. “They’re not coming back. This will be ours.” He balanced himself until upright, his voice now loud enough for Mason to hear. “But we can’t tell anyone about it. The last thing we want is for others to discover our home away from home.”

~

That afternoon while I arranged a bouquet of wildflowers I’d picked along the back of the cabin, a steady banging sounded from outside.

Melissa Jane's books