Mae was sitting on the couch, staring out the window at the woods across from the apartment, while Mother and Grandma argued at the dining table behind her. Earlier, Mae had peeked over Mother’s shoulder while she punched numbers into a calculator. There was a mess of papers spread out in front of her, all emblazoned with dollar signs and massive numbers. Mae knew that there were things in this world that cost a lot of money, more than she could fully comprehend, but she hadn’t realized until that moment that Mother—and, until recently, her father—had to deal with those numbers. Though Mother looked near tears, Mae left her to do her work, thinking that she already had a lot on her mind.
Now Grandma was sitting next to Mother. She had pulled a small book from her purse, scribbled something on a sheet of paper, and ripped it now. Now the two of them were pushing it back and forth, Grandma yelling for Mother to take it, Mother insisting that she didn’t need it, she didn’t want her help.
When Grandma started asking why Mother thought she didn’t need her help, Mae fully tuned out, focusing all her attention on the woods. How far did the woods go? How deep were they? How thick? She imagined that they were as deep as the rainforests and jungles she read about in books, though she knew that couldn’t be true. Still, her imagination was all she had. She had never ventured into those woods. Mother probably wouldn’t allow her to. She was never allowed out of the apartment on her own unless Mother knew where she was going, and as long as her destination wasn’t far. Normally that wasn’t an issue. The only place Mae ever went on her own was Lena’s apartment because her brother had games for his Xbox that Mae’s parents would probably never get for her PS2. Even then, she never got to play for very long because she had to leave before Lena’s brother got home. She had never actually met Lena’s brother. Lena insisted that she shouldn’t.
But now her curiosity was fixed on those woods, something that she had never paid much attention to before, that she treated only as scenery. Now she could sense something alluring hidden deep within, some magnetic force trying to pull her closer. What was hidden within all those tangled branches and leaf-strewn ground? Anything interesting or exciting? She had no idea, but she certainly wanted to know.
She peeked over her shoulder. Mother and Grandma were still arguing, their eyes fixed solely on each other. If she was going to make a move, head into those woods, she had to do it now.
Quickly, but carefully, she got off the couch and stepped towards the front door, her feet lightly touching the ground with each step. When she reached the front door, she pulled it open just a crack, slid through the opening, then pulled it shut, keeping her thumb on the latch until the door was fully in the frame.
Standing outside, facing the door, Mae felt her heart racing in her chest. She breathed in gulps. But she was halfway there. Already outside. All she had to do was turn and run. Then she’d be there, in the woods, moving towards whatever was waiting for her. It was too late to hesitate. She had to move now.
She turned to her left, then froze in place.
At the end of the corridor stood a man unlike any she’d seen before. He was tall and lanky, but his presence seemed to block the whole exit. He looked like he was covered in a thick layer of ash. He was mostly bald, and whatever tufts of hair remained on his head stood wildly, smoke rising from their tips. His shirt and jeans were ripped and bloody. He wore no shoes; looking closer, Mae could see that he had no toes, either.
But worst of all was his face. The skin on his cheeks was gone; there was a small hole in his left cheek through which Mae could see his teeth. One eye was swollen shut; the other was practically gone, a flat, filmy blob that hung limp from the socket. He looked like he should be in a lot of pain, but his lips—what remained of them, anyway—were curled up in a sick grin, a lit cigarette nestled between them.
He pulled on the cigarette and let the smoke drift out of the hole in his cheek. Then he dropped what was left and put it out with the raw stump where his big toe used to be.
“Mae Wilcox?” he asked in a thin croak.
In the moments before, Mae seemed to have drifted away from herself, too shocked by what she was seeing to understand her presence in the situation. Now she came back to herself, became aware of her racing heartbeat and stiff body. A scream rose in her throat, then burst out of her mouth. She threw her front door open, then ran back into the apartment, locking the door behind her before collapsing in the entryway.
Mother peeked into the corridor and saw Mae curled up by the door, shaking and moaning as tears began to drip down her cheeks. She moved towards her, and for a moment Mae thought she was coming to protect her and comfort her. Then she saw Mother’s expression and realized that it was not one of concern or worry. It was anger.
“What did I tell you about going outside without telling me?” she said, her voice louder than Mae had expected. “What if something happened to you, huh? What would I do then?”
Those last questions hit harder than the first one, triggering another wave of tears. Mother got on her knees and looked Mae in the eyes. Slowly, her anger seemed to dissipate, though Mae had a hard time reading the changes. She couldn’t recall Mother ever raising her voice at her, or even getting remotely angry or irritated with her. This was a new situation for her, and it was as terrifying as it was confusing.
Mother seemed to realize that as well. Just a few moments after she’d finished yelling at Mae, she pulled her into a tight hug and began rubbing her back, telling her that everything was okay.
In all the confusion, not once did Mae consider telling Mother about the burned man in the corridor.
