In the Forest Where I Live

Chapter 6

I've been with Elizabeth for a week now. The news of our murder spread like wildfire, and I could not be more proud of my new apprentice. She did a wonderful job and didn't even cry until the next day. She was frightened, but a slap on the face woke her back up. "Shut up and get a grip. You're like me now." She hasn't cried since. She talks only when I want her to, and she's a great help in gathering berries and meat. She's a good cook and a decent killer. I haven't taken her out again since we killed that girl, but once her wrist is fully healed, we will go out again.

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It's been a month, and her wrist is healed now. Time to teach her everything I know. I decide to train her on my old training ground, less than a mile from my little house. "Grab your bag, you're coming with me." Her wrist is still a bit delicate, but we need to strengthen it up. It wasn't a big break and has healed fine. I lead her deeper into the woods to a clearing with a few stumps, and bags of rice set up like dummies. "Hey, I forgot I left you here," I say picking up an old sketchbook. It's inside a plastic bag and seems in perfect shape, kept away from the weather by a small shield of plastic. I take it out and flip through some of the pages. "You're an artist?" Elizabeth asks. "I was. I don't draw anymore." "Why not? You were really good!" "I don't want to talk about it." I set the book down and pull out my knife. "I need to teach you how to throw your knife, how to stab victims in the right place, I'll teach you how to inflict the most pain and the least pain, and then when you're ready you'll get to pick someone to kill." She smiles evilly at me and nods. "Alright. I'm ready."

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After a few hours of practice, we both grow tired and decide to take a break. Her knife skills have gotten pretty good after the short time I've worked with her. She's able to throw a knife with decent accuracy, and since she wanted to be a doctor, she knows a lot about the human body and picked up on killing victims pretty fast. She's covered in sweat, the dewiness making her skin glow, and her hair to stick to the back of her neck. I blush and look away, grabbing my knife out of a dummy's chest, putting it back into my sheath. I grab my bag off the ground and rifle through it until I find what I'm looking for. A piece of meat wrapped in cloth. "Want some?" I ask Elizabeth, grabbing a chunk and putting it in my mouth. She nods and walks over, grabbing a piece too. "So, tell me about yourself," she says to me. "Hmm, no thanks," I say through a mouthful of meat. "Why not?" "Because I don't want to talk about myself." She nods slowly and takes a swig of water from the water skin I carry. I eye her up and down carefully. She changed into some of my clothes, and they are a bit loose on her. The shirt hangs low enough that I can see the top of her bra, and partly down her shirt. I look down at her shoes hiding my blush by eating more meat. I stand up quickly and toss her the rest of the meat. "Grab your shit and follow me, I have something to show you," I say and grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder and walking away. Sure enough, I hear her light footsteps following me and smile. I lead her even deeper into the woods where I used to play as a kid. There's a small lake, a clearing with old toys, and an abandoned tree house I found when I was a kid. She looks around confused for a minute, until she sees an old barbie doll and her eyes widen. "Oh no..." I smile at her. "I changed my mind, you want to know about me? Here it is. Everything about my childhood." She picks up the barbie doll and strokes its matted and dirty hair. "I'm so sorry..." I laugh. "That's in the past. My parents were murdered, I was a terrible kid, I ran to the forest and made my own life here. With my sister..." I look at her, watching as her face contorts in shock. "You didn't..." "She was 6." I can see her eyes swell up with tears as she searches for any amount of remorse on my face. "I'm broken. And I love it."

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I took her up to the tree house and she fell asleep on an old, moldy blanket. I watch her protectively. //I don't know why I signed up for this. She was innocent before this. I'm only hurting her. She doesn't deserve this.// I stroke her hair softly and she stirs from the touch of my fingers. //She's so innocent. What have I done?//