MORNING AFTER

I rub my eyes, adjusting to the bright sunlight streaming through the bedroom window, and sit up with effort. Glancing down, I let out a sigh; somehow during the night, I ended up in just my underwear. My thoughts feel scrambled as I try to piece together the last few hours.

Turning to the left side of the bed, I find only vacant sheets.

Empty. Completely empty!

A surge of panic prompts me to mentally replay the events of the night and go over my dream. Instinctively, I check for any signs of forced entry to my lady parts, reassured to find that everything feels normal and my body confirms that there were no unexpected visitors last night. But where could he have gone?

Leaping out of bed, I land heavily on the wooden floor, feeling a twinge in my joints as I steady myself. I spot my clothes neatly folded on the rocking chair, hastily dress, and continue scanning the room for any clue of my absent companion’s whereabouts.

Hoping he’s just in the bathroom, I make my way to the barn door while hurriedly pulling on my pants. I slide it open and peek inside.

Nothing. Shit, shit, shitty McShit!

I quickly tug on my crinkled blouse, pulling it over my bra as I rush to the landing. Looking down—still nothing. I bound down the stairs two at a time and fling open the front door, but there’s no sign of my mysterious stranger. I check every conceivable hiding spot as I grab my bag, finding my belongings untouched.

Phone, wallet, keys—all accounted for. My cash and cards are just where I left them. It's as if last night never happened. How many drinks did I actually have? Stepping outside and slipping on my boots, I head to my car to check for any signs that affirm last night really did happen. Bending down to the front panel, I find a small dent and what looks like dark rust.

“Double shit, where the fuck did you go?"

It really happened! I hit someone with my car, brought them home, and put them in my bed. I thought last night was bizarre, but this vanishing act certainly takes the cake.

Turning back towards the porch, I spot something furry and red beside the welcome mat. I must have missed it earlier. As I move closer, I gag when the furry object reveals itself as the torso of what was once a rabbit, now horribly mangled. My stomach churns, and I vomit over the side of the railing. My head spins as I take several deep breaths, trying to regain composure. A missing naked man, a headless rabbit—WTF! Where’s my goddamn tranquility?

After muttering a few choice words to steady my nerves, I head into the kitchen to grab a pair of tongs and a garbage bag. Holding my breath and fighting the urge to gag, I carefully dispose of the unfortunate rabbit, placing its remains in the trash along with the used utensils.

Still feeling shaken, I return to the warmth of the cabin and make sure all the doors are securely locked. Then, I go to the bathroom to thoroughly wash my hands, scrubbing away any last traces of the ordeal. As I look in the mirror, I barely recognize the person staring back—hair tangled, curls unruly, brown eyes red-rimmed, and skin unnaturally pale.

Burning my hands under the steaming hot water, I try to erase the chaos of the previous night, then head to the bedroom. I close the curtains, strip off my clothes, and slide under the covers. Snuggling deep into the duvet, I'm enveloped by a faint scent of pine and spice, which proves unexpectedly calming. Closing my eyes, I let the soothing aroma help me drift off to sleep.

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It's mid-afternoon by the time I finally wake up, feeling a bit sore from oversleeping. I drag myself out of bed and head to the bathroom for a shower. As I brush my teeth and let the hot water soothe my aching lower back, I crack my neck and notice that my muscles are swollen and tender, almost like premenstrual symptoms. But since I just had my period last week, it must be stress. Considering the screwed-up events of last night, it's no surprise they're taking a toll not just mentally, but physically too.

After the shower, I wrap myself in an oversized fluffy towel, comb my hair into a messy bun, and apply some light moisturizer to my face and neck. Opting for comfort, I tug on dark yoga pants and a baggy sweater over fresh underwear and step into soft grey woolen uggs—a gift from Erin’s trip to Australia last spring.

Trudging down to the living area, I open a bottle of wine, relight the fire, and fetch a few logs from the porch. I turn on the TV, settle onto the end of the leather modular sofa, stretch out, and drape a soft hand-knitted blanket over my legs.

"Bodies found in Hemlock ravine north of Black Mountain are believed to be those of the missing men. It is still too early to determine the cause of the accident, but authorities are confident that more information will be available in the coming days," reports a blonde woman in a thick brown winter coat outside Brady's Pub. The scene then cuts back to the newsroom, where a man with salt and pepper hair looks directly at the camera. "Thanks, Jillian. Now over to Bruce, who has the latest on the upcoming college draft." I mute the TV and fire up my computer, typing 'current news stories on Black Mountain' into the search engine, eager for any lead on my visitor from last night.

I come across stories of missing tourists Jase O'Connell and Evan McCarthy. Neither of the smiling, fit men in their late twenties shown in a photo—captured two weeks ago, one in a bright red jacket, the other in a white T-shirt—matches my mysterious visitor. Continuing to search, I sift through multiple articles about recent animal killings, community markets, and the upcoming Halloween festival this weekend. Still, there's nothing about my stranger.

After finding no relevant information, I close my PC and grab my phone, only to see three missed texts from Erin.

Bitch, how was your first night on the prowl – how was mountain man? - Erin, 10:26 AM.

I assume with your lack of response that you’re still in bed with said man. I WANT DETAILS! - Erin, 11:45 AM.

BAH, what type of friend are you to leave a girl hanging???? AVA??? - Erin, 1:36 PM.

Unsure of how to explain last night, I keep my response brief:

No go with Mountain man 1. Mountain man 2 seems ok. Meeting him tomorrow night for dinner, no details as yet will text more tomorrow. – Ava 5:45 PM.

With my phone charging and my stomach growling, I head to the kitchen to decide what to make for dinner.

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After indulging in cottage pie, several scoops of ice cream, and slowly savoring a glass of wine, I feel comfortably full. Unfortunately, my back still feels like it's tied in a knot, so to help relieve some of the tension, I decide to make my way to the massive tub in the bathroom. I turn on the brass taps, let the water flow, and sprinkle in some bath salts with vanilla and lavender scents to soothe the ache.

I strip down, letting my clothes fall into a pile on the tiled floor, and then move to the vanity to apply a clay mask. As I spread the mask down to my neck, I wince upon touching a sore spot at the base of my neck. Looking in the mirror, I cringe at the sight of slight red swelling around my scars—it almost resembles a bite mark.

Anxious about the possibility of spiders lurking in my bed, I tiptoe back to the bedroom and tentatively grasp the edge of the quilt. With my fear mounting, I take a deep breath and swiftly pull it back. All I find are rumpled sheets and a faint red stain between the pillows. I resolve to throw them in the wash tomorrow—thankfully, there's a washer and dryer out back.

Back in the bathroom, the tub’s ready, and I step into the perfectly warm water. It relaxes my muscles instantly, coaxing a low moan from me. I lean back, letting the water come up to my chest, and stare out the still-open window at the night sky.

The stars and the moon are super bright tonight. I close my eyes and soak in the sounds of the night—crickets chirping, owls hooting, and then, suddenly, was that wolves howling? That thought jolts me upright. I quickly wash off the mask, slip into a robe, and head downstairs to double-check the locks on the front door, just to feel a bit safer.

Grabbing my phone off the charger, it’s loaded with new texts and pics from Erin. Returning upstairs I climb back into bed, the smell of pine wrapping around me, and start texting back.