“You didn’t!”
“I did so! Looked it right in it’s ugly face too.”
“Oh my god, Siobhan! What did it look like?”
“Ah, you know. All scaly and gross. It was so close I could smell it.”
“Then what?”
“Well me da chased it off, of course.”
Siobhan. Stupid, loudmouth Siobhan. I don’t have the energy to hate her anymore, but she’s someone you would despise. Especially when she’s going on like this. Talking about this as if it’s just another thing she can say to get Gemma to fuss over her. As if it hasn’t hurt people. As if it hasn’t hurt me.
Whatever.
I go back to my English comprehension.
“Yeah, it came right up to my friend’s house. They weren’t scared.” Siobhan went on, “They just shouted at it. I wouldn’t be scared, I’d -”
“You’d what?” I say. There’s venom in my voice. Her head snaps up, flicking her ponytail, and she glares at me.
“None of your business, Charlotte.”
It’s Charlie. She knows it’s Charlie. It knew I was Charlie.
She plays with her very prohibited gum. It’s sweet. Sickly sweet.
“This isn’t a joke, Siobhan. It isn’t a story you tell to make yourself seem cool. This is serious.”
“Oh, poor Charlotte. I forgot you were scared of monsters. What were you doing out in the woods anyway, if you’re so scared,” Her ponytail swishes as she talks. I can feel my eyes start to prick. “It wouldn’t have gotten me. I know not to go too close to the forest.” I can’t cry. Not in front of Siobhan. “It’s got a stupid name. Arracht. That’s just, like, monster in Irish, right? Lame. Trust Charlotte to get scared by a lame –”
“You. Weren’t. THERE.”
She stops for a moment and her eyes widen. “Oh my GOD, it’s OK, no need to get so worked up about it!”
Gemma giggles.
I leave. I march into the bathroom and slam the door. I probably look like a right – I probably look pathetic.
But they weren’t there.
They weren’t there, when the sun was setting and the forest looked like something haunting and beautiful, dressed in golds and reds and rich hazel browns, the last of the green leaves turning yellow. When a breeze was knocking helicopter leaves into dizzy whirling spins. They weren’t there, when everything was quiet except for leaves rustling, and my mushy footsteps. When darkness crept up while I walked, and the shadows stretched to grasp at my toes with disfigured, longing fingers. They weren’t there when the path, up until then partially covered with leaves, vanished.
My hands are gripping the sink so hard that the porcelain might smash if I keep pressing. I never mean to go back there. I never mean to think myself back, but I do. I keep… losing my hold on now. Keep grabbing onto then when I slip. I breathe. I let go of the sink.
“There, progress.” I smile at myself in the mirror.
It looks awkward and forced. I let my face drop. My eyes are rimmed red from crying, and the dark violet-greys underneath are my insomniac bruises.
I’m so tired. All I can see is decay.
I remember the smell. That sickly sweet smell. A sudden darkness, and a chilling, biting cold. The trees seemed to creak and slump and droop. The leaves turned grey and slimy and the forest had a stale taste of decay.
And then.
I felt a growing pressure in my ears, a screaming, piercing pain behind my eyes, a flailing, tingling itch underneath my nails. The kind of feeling that makes your breath hitch and your muscles tense. That makes you want to tear your skin off.
I knew. I knew because I felt a dizzying, fluttery anticipation. I knew because I needed it to appear. It was a thirst. Arracht was there.
The thing with monsters, is that they aren’t scaly creatures with ten glowing eyes and skulls for belts. And if they are, they don’t let you know.
Arracht was… captivating. It’s presence made you want to stare, to drink it with your eyes. It told you wordlessly that you should look. That your eyes were privileged. It’s bones and skin and eyes. Eerie, but in a way that was… Regal and otherworldly.
It spoke in song.
“Charlotte, are you…” Darragh. I had forgotten about Darragh. “Sorry, Charlie. Are you alright? I saw…”
I like Darragh. They at least pretend to be nice. “I’m grand. Hormones.” They don’t need to know everything.
“Oh, right,” they blushed “well, I know Siobhan can be a right… piece of work. So, erm, yeah.”
I wipe my eyes. “Yeah, thanks. I have half a mind to jab my tampon into her eye socket.”
Darragh laughs slightly too loud. I leave. They make me feel better, though. And they used my name.
My feet echo on the hardwood floors, jarring and loud. The subdued thrum of people makes me feel more alone.
The noise, a discordant melody. Notes and chords combined, broken, fractured, mended. Unravelled as I heard them. Lingered on even when they shouldn’t. Afterwards, bittersweet silence stayed.
ní bhaineann tú anseo / lig dom cabhrú leat muintearas anseo / an bhfuil tú mícheart anseo / ná fág anseo / fan anseo má tá ort / éist liom / éist liom
(you don’t belong here / let me help you belong here / are you wrong here / don’t leave here / stay if you must here / listen to me / listen to me)
It spoke in Irish. I don’t speak Irish. I know ‘Is ainm dom Charlie’ and that’s about it. Yet, I understood this. Even though it didn’t make any sense I felt it. It seeped into me and sat there like a damp rot. The way it spoke, with no emotion, made me feel so… much. That contradictory, illogical logic.
a stór / Charlie / ní féidir liom cabhrú leat / níl tú briste / cabhrú liom / lig dom cabhrú leat / deiseoidh mé thú / ní gá duit a ghortú níos mó
(my love / Charlie / I can’t help you / you are not broken / help me / let me help you / I will fix you / you don’t need to hurt anymore)
“What do you want?” My words sounded hollow and disjointed compared to Arracht’s.
cabhrú liom cabhrú leat
(help me help you)
I said it again, and my voice broke. “What do you want?” Arracht stepped closer. I had to crane my neck to look at it’s eyes. There was a stillness, upon the forest, upon Arracht, upon me. I couldn’t breathe.
má ligeann tú dom / má dhéanann tú an rud amháin seo dom / is féidir liom tú a deisigh / beidh muid ar cheann / beidh a fhios ag gach duine cé tú féin / d’ainm fíor / ní dhéanfaidh aon duine dochar duit
(if you let me / if you do this one thing for me / I can fix you / we will be one / everyone will know who you are / your true name / no one will hurt you)
The hallway is gone. I see it somewhere, sometime, out of the corner of my eye. I can hear my footsteps falter, but I can mostly see… black. Fractured flashes. Arracht.
“Why do I still feel this?”
Silence.
“You said – you promised.”
It grins, and I would die for it. It breaths in. It takes my pain, drains my anger (my fear).
níos fear
(better)
Numbness spreads through me. Not enough to stop my rage.
“You PROMISED ME.”
My voice splits, breaks. I can see it shatter. Arracht picks up a piece.
mé / is mise an rud a theastaigh uait / seo an rud a theastaigh uait / faic
(me / I am what you wanted / this is what you wanted / nothing)
A calmness. A strangling, restraining. A seeping, creeping indifference, overcomes me. I can’t open my mouth. Can’t feel anything. Everything is colliding. I know the grime on the hardwood floor, Arracht’s teeth, the heaviness of this dark air in between it all.
And it’s all okay. It all matters in a way that doesn’t.
Arracht is taking something. I let it. My hands are tinged with grey, my fingertips fading into the heavy black air.
I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m
“…okay?” Everything’s far too loud. Too saturated. Too… painful. I groan.
“Charlie, are you okay? Bloody hell Charlie – you scared the life out of me.”
Darragh is kneeling over me, running their hands through their hair. “Uh, it’s… are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” I say. “I think I made a deal with a monster.”
“I… that seems like something not to do.”
I rub my head. “Yeah. But you weren’t there.”
“…I should have been.”
THE END