MEMORY
Waking from a night of lousy sleep, I finally haul myself out of bed, cracking my neck and stretching to relieve some muscle tension. It's well past lunchtime, the sun nearing its descent in the west.
I think I'm coming down with a case of man flu! My throat's swollen, my lower regions are throbbing, and surprisingly, I'm feeling exceptionally... uh, frisky. Yep, definitely man flu!
After a quick shower, I avoid getting my hair wet and head downstairs, grabbing my phone along the way to fix something to eat.
Checking my messages, I see only one from Erin. I want to call Liam and talk about last night, but I still haven't found his number. Kicking myself for not saving it, I consider calling the bar but decide against it. Liam won't be back until Tuesday night, almost three days away. It can wait.
As I text Erin, I heat up pumpkin soup and butter a slice of crispy bread.
You sure you don't want me to come up? I'll sort out that motherfucker. I have two nine-inch heels that I can shove up his ass!! - Erin 2:30 PM.
Laughing, I respond as I settle by the fire with my lunch, the warmth soothing my aching throat, while scrolling through social media.
I'll be fine. I don't think he'll be bothering me any time soon. But if I need you, I'll ask to borrow your Jimmy Choos. - Ava 2:32 PM.
Still, if you need me, DO NOT hesitate to call. - Erin 2:40 PM.
I won't, Mum. Love you. - Ava 2:50 PM.
As I swallow another spoonful of soup, engrossed in a story about a man and his puppy, my phone rings. Erin.
"Seriously, I'm okay!"
"Shut up and turn on CNN."
I switch on the TV. The reporter, different from before, stands outside Brady's. "We can now confirm another body's been found. The cause of death is yet to be confirmed, though sources suspect it may be a wild animal."
"Ava, can you hear me? Erin's voice cuts in. "It's messed up. Geoff, the cop I've been seeing, just texted, and this is the third person in a week."
Lowering the volume, I reply, "Bloody hell, this area has bears and the odd wolf, but..."
"Honey, I think you need to stay indoors," Erin advises, concern in her voice. "Maybe consider coming back earlier. This shit’s too real."
"Yeah, you might be right," I admit, feeling uneasy being alone in the cabin. "I'll see how I feel in a day or two."
"If you need me, you know where to find me."
"Will do, love you." I end the call. What kind of animal could have done that?
I decide it's time to drive up the Spur.
.....................................................................................................
Parking my car in the small clearing, I walk the final steps to a memorial carved into a large rock. Time has weathered the inscription, yet the words remain clear: 'We will never forget; your legacy will live on. Amelia Louise Byrne & James Allan MacTyre, April 3rd, 2010.' I struggle to remember the details leading up to the crash, just flashes of the accident itself.
Why were we on this mountain? Where were we headed? The memory of my parents arguing echoes in my mind, yet the reason escapes me.
My therapist has suggested hypnotherapy, but even the thought triggers a wave of anxiety. Kneeling in the grass before the stone, I close my eyes, picturing their faces—my mother’s high cheekbones, similar to mine, and my father's deep brown eyes, identical to my own.
"Doe Eyes," my mum would say. The loss hits anew.
A cold gust of wind makes me shiver, and I feel an eerie sense of being watched. Shaking it off, I whisper, "I miss you so much," my voice breaking with the swell of emotions. I trace their names with my fingers, continuing, "I know you're both with me, in spirit, but it's so hard... I feel so alone."
Tears stream down my cheeks as I allow the memories to surface—the anger in my dad's voice, the car speeding down the mountain, the tree, my mum. A fragment of memory sharpens into focus, my dad's angry words just before the crash: "I won't let him have her, I don't care what tradition says, I won't let that beast have our little girl."
What beast?
I kiss my fingertips and touch them to the plaque gently. "I love you both.” As I walk back to my car, the rustling of bushes catches my attention. For a moment, I think I see something—a black shape moving in the shadows—and a shiver runs down my spine.
I’m being paranoid.