I got home from school and went into my room to change into jeans and a flannel. I threw my khaki pants and polo down on the bed and opened one of the windows letting in a cool breeze from outside. I went back downstairs and outside to the shed to get my hatchet. It was a beautiful spring afternoon and the sun was high in the sky. What better day to spend some time cutting fire wood? I opened to door of the shed and dust floated in the rays of light coming in from the windows. I took my hatchet off of a shelf and closed the door behind me, walking across the yard to where the treeline started.
Over the years of coming back here I’ve made what you could consider a trail through the woods. It was about a half hour walk to where I would split wood and just spend time outside to escape everything. The French Broad River flowed through there and the sound of the water relieved me of any stress I was holding onto inside, and it was becoming unbearable.
...
Can I be honest for a second? I didn’t go out there that day to split wood. Yes I brought the hatchet, but it wasn’t to split any wood. I needed an escape. An escape from all the s*** that the world was throwing at me. I wanted to be somewhere I could live my life and it didn’t seem like that place was anywhere on earth- Especially not in my town. Not when you would walk down the street and be glared at just because you seemed a little “off” from everyone else. No, I went into those woods to escape. The hatchet was going to be the scythe that death would use to take me away to better days.
…
I started off into the woods with my hatchet on my belt because I didn’t feel like carrying it. The woods were beautiful this time of year; the flowers were just beginning to bud and the leaves of the trees made the sun dance across the ground. I stopped for a second to pick up a pinecone and throw it deeper in the woods. When I stopped however, my footsteps didn’t. There was an extra footstep, no doubt in my mind. I stood there hunched over for a few seconds then picked up the pinecone and threw it to my left. I looked behind me but nothing was there.
I continued forward, but listened closely behind me. There were definitely footsteps behind me. I stopped again. And once again the steps behind me were off a beat. Someone was behind me… Following me. I decided to take a left where I was supposed to go right. The woods got thicker here so I knew I would be able to lose whoever was following me. But the footsteps got faster and louder. I darted off into the woods, not daring to look behind me.
I knew who it was. It hadn’t dawned on me until this point. There was a note in my locker earlier today that said, Watch your back faggot. It wood be a shame if you were sent to hell earlier than you expected. Whoever was chasing me knew I went to split lumber. But who would know that?! The who wasn’t important to me now. The only thing that mattered was getting away. Branches whipped across my face as I continued to run deeper into the woods. I tripped on a stump hidden by the leaves and fell forward onto the ground of the forest.
I tried to stand up but it was no use. My ankle was definitely sprained. I tried to walk on it but a pain shot through my body. I let out an agonizing yell and fell back to the ground. I tried to catch my breath as I listened for the foot steps. They were off in the distance and it sounded like whoever it was was walking at this point. Walking towards me. The footsteps grew louder. I tried to drag myself along the ground but it was no use; I could see them and they could see me.
They were wearing a black ski mask and black clothing. I couldn’t tell who it was but I just laid there as they stared at me. They reached behind them and pulled out a machete, pointing at me with it. My hand slid slowly towards the handle of my hatchet so that they wouldn’t notice. They began to run towards me with the machete held high in the air. I didn’t know what to do. It was kill or be killed, but I couldn’t kill the person! I suddenly burst into tears. The person stopped running and stood over me with the machete held at their side.
“What’s the matter faggot? Do you miss your mommy? Or did she disown you already?” I just kept laying there crying. Thoughts and emotions raced through my head. Out of them I picked one to hold on to, and it was that I didn’t want to die. Or at least not like this. Not at the hands of this stranger.
“No,” was the only thing that I said. I don’t know why I said it but that was the only thing that would come out of me.
“No? No what? No more tears? I doubt that’s it.” He slid the machete down and it cut through my jeans and into my leg. I let out a scream and without thinking I swung my arm so the poll of my hatchet came into contact with the person’s stomach, knocking the wind out him. He fell to his side trying to regain his breath. I adjusted my body so I was facing him and I hit him over the head with the poll, knocking him out. He laid there still, the only movement his chest rising and lowering. I crawled over to a tree and hoisted myself up to my feet. I hopped from tree to tree making my way back to the house. How will I explain this one to my mom? I thought to myself. I kept moving, leaving their body there in the woods. I didn’t care to take their mask off. Who it was wasn’t important to me; the only important thing now was getting home before dark.