The Bad Boy Is A Virgin

Chapter 49: The Woods Are Lovely, Dark And Deep

After we got to my house I went straight to my sister's room. I sat in the middle of everything and looked around me. On her dresser there was a picture of her holding me a few days after I was born. She was looking down at me and I was looking up at her. There was a connection between us that was so intense in that photo. I'll never be able to describe it but there was love shining from her and all that love filled me. I picked up the frame and sadly smiled, reminiscing about the times with my sister.

When she had fought with the boys who were bullying me at school. When her and her boyfriend snuck me out of the house at midnight to buy ice cream. When she sang me to sleep or made up stories. She was the reason I was writing. She was the reason I was singing.

There was a slight bump at the back so I opened the frame and found a neatly folded piece of paper.

Whose woods these are I think I know.  
His house is in the village though;  
He will not see me stopping here  
To watch his woods fill up with snow.  

I knew these words. I'd heard them somewhere before. I also knew there was more than just this. The ink on the paper looked new... almost too new. Sure it had been in the frame but it was like if I ran my fingers over the paper the ink would smudge.

Then I looked over to the dresser, bending so that I was eye level with the surface of it. Everything in my sister's room was covered with a veil of dust since nothing had been moved since she disappeared. But this picture was moved. And recently enough that when it's original position was, wasn't able to cover up with dust.

I searched the room for more clues. There wasn't just this one piece of paper. My sister had left pieces of the poem and she wanted someone to find them.

Her bed. There was a never that teddy bear there. I was probably overthinking and I couldn't have remembered all my sister's toys. But this wasn't one she would own. It looked like Coraline and just the button eyes set me on edge. Except it was dressed in an outfit that looked suited for hiking in the cold. Woods. Snow. The words from the poem. I grabbed the doll and ripped its head off without thinking. The stuffing fell down around me along with a piece of paper.

My little horse must think it queer  
To stop without a farmhouse near  
Between the woods and frozen lake  
The darkest evening of the year.  

Little Horse. I sprinted to my room ignoring the conversation that I could barely hear coming from downstairs. I traced the pictures that scattered my wall. I found the one I was looking for and pulled it off the wall. Nothing happened so I took a deep breath and stepped back to look at the whole wall at once. My eyes flicked between each picture, the colors blurring as my frustration increased. Right at the bottom of the wall, in the corner was the exact same picture but up close you can tell it had been edited. There was also a slight bulge behind it which lead me to believe I'd found the right place.

He gives his harness bells a shake  
To ask if there is some mistake.  
The only other sound's the sweep  
Of easy wind and downy flake.

I couldn't think of anything that would lead me further. All I knew was that my sister had been kidnapped the winter of that year. The snow was an repeated throughout the poem. There was a clear link.

"Emilia?" My mom called.

I didn't answer but went downstairs. My mom called me again before realizing I was behind her.