Her smile was menacingly sweet as her young face came into focus. The outward innocent demeanor of the little girl was creepy. 

It was an aspect of her appearance that didn't adhere to her personality.

She looked down at me, crouching on the ground trying not to throw up. Her soft hands running down my back in a sort of motherly way.

At that moment I couldn't seem to do anything but look. There was something admittedly frightening about her that I couldn't put my finger on.

Her smile dropped slightly into an almost mocking frown as she took in my appearance.

"Oh, you poor thing."

Her voice slipped into a sort of baby voice as she said this to me. Her hand moved from my back to cup my cheek. We stayed like this for a few moments.

She looked into my eyes, and it felt as if she could see into me. It was like she knew everything about me and yet I had just met her.

She stood and brushed off her pale pink dress that looked as if it were made out of stitched rose petals. Her hands were encased in red gloves that hugged her fingers.

My eyes slowly took in her appearance as my nerves started to subside in the midst of the interaction.

She was petite, as many children are, but this girl in particular looked especially fragile. Her red hair was a shade of crimson that was dark and blood like.

It was down but had intricate braids that went along the side of her head. Her dress and shoes were expensive looking as she carried herself in a sophisticated way.

Of all these things I noticed it was her eyes that truly captured my thoughts. There was something behind those blue depths that was not connecting to the rest of her.

They were knowing and strangely wise. Although I was older than her, she had a way of intimidating me that I had yet to experience.

She looked off into the distance behind us. Absent-mindedly, I turned to see what she was looking at.

A woman stood nearby, arms crossed, anxiously watching the girl. From my distance, I couldn't make out her features, but her striking blonde hair, swirling in voluminous curls, caught my attention.

I heard a snicker behind me and turned to see the girl smirking, her determined gaze fixed on me. She tilted her head, her demeanor shifting as she spoke.

"Well, looks like I've been caught."

She stepped forward, her fingers brushing lightly against my head as she walked past me, moving gracefully toward the woman.

"I suppose, this is goodbye for now then."

With a casual wave, she exited, and my nerves shot back into my chest. My day had already stirred up a whirlwind of anxiety, chaotic with its unexpected events. I felt unsafe—something I had experienced many times before—but this was different. This felt like being swallowed whole.

An all-encompassing uncertainty loomed over me. I glanced back toward the place I had just fled, ironically the very spot I usually ran to for solace.

Caught in a standstill, my emotions battled within me.

Tears slid down my cheeks as a whimper escaped my lips. I frantically scanned my surroundings, searching for a place to hide.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I sought comfort as my slow teardrops transformed into a steady stream.

A repressed whimper erupted into loud sobs. I craved answers but was struck by a terrifying realization: I couldn't run or hide.

I curled into myself, crying louder as dread enveloped me in a suffocating embrace. I sensed a presence nearby, but fear kept me from looking up, afraid of what I might find.

At first, the presence was subtle, lingering as if it might go away if I ignored it. But it persisted, a shadow refusing to be dismissed, even as I tried to shield myself from the unknown.

"Are you alright, miss?"

Ben's soft voice broke through my haze of tears, momentarily easing my racing mind. I lifted my head to meet his gentle gaze, filled with concern.

I sniffed and let out another soft sob, struggling to formulate an answer. Ben remained still, but his expression shifted as he bit his bottom lip, deep in thought. I couldn't quite read his face, but it was clear he was considering something important.

His eyes locked onto mine as he crouched down to my level, the warmth of his presence offering a sliver of comfort. "Would you like to have some coffee?"

My lips quivered, and I fought to nod. Surprisingly, the thought of saying yes stirred something hopeful within me. I craved comfort, anything to pull me away from the turmoil inside and offer me solace beyond my home.

My hands trembled uncontrollably at my sides, making it difficult to respond. I reached out toward him, silently hoping he understood my unspoken plea.

He glanced at my hand and then back to my face, as if seeking permission. When he saw my subtle affirmation, he stood and gently pulled me up with him, leading us toward the shed.

As we approached the worn wooden structure, the familiar scent of fresh earth and wood mingled with the cold air.

he porcelain cup in my hands was warm as Ben handed it to me, the steam rising from the dark liquid inside. Its aroma was pleasing yet unfamiliar, and I gazed down at the swirling light brown surface as he added another spoonful of sugar to his own cup.

"The sugar brings out the flavor," he said, stirring his drink thoughtfully. I sniffed and wiped at my dried tears, looking back at him as he focused on the small container in front of him.

As I waited, I let my eyes wander around the shed, searching for something to occupy my mind. My gaze landed on a framed photograph hanging on the wall. It depicted a man and a woman, the man's arm draped lazily over her shoulders.

The picture itself was nice, but what drew me in was the emotion radiating from the subjects as they stared into each other's eyes, lost in a moment that seemed to exist outside the constraints of time.

"How do you like it?" Ben's voice pulled me from my daydream. I looked up and realized I hadn't touched the coffee yet.

Hesitant but wanting to please him, I slowly lifted the cup to my lips. The taste was bitter at first, tinged with a wisp of earthiness. The cream and sugar balanced it beautifully. I nodded at Ben as I took another sip.

His soft laughter filled the small room as he leaned against the table behind him. "I'll take that as you like it then?"

I nodded again, glancing back at the picture. Ben's eyes followed my gaze, and his smile turned somber. He picked up the frame and handed it to me.

"That's me and my wife, Lilly. It was the summer of 1975. We were sixteen and in love."

He took a sip of his coffee, his gaze fixed on the photo in my hands. A brighter light flickered behind his dulled irises, and his reminiscent tone wrapped around me, creating a sense of security.

"We had been dating for a month when that was taken." He gestured to the picture, his expression softening. "I knew when I saw her that I was going to spend the rest of my life with her. And I did—still am. We've been married for 38 years."

As he spoke, I studied the woman in the photograph, feeling a warm swell in my chest at the way he described her. It was a comfort I couldn't quite understand, but it made me feel momentarily like a normal person. My loneliness faded as I savored the moment, wishing I could hold onto it forever.

"I'm sorry about the mess," he continued, glancing around the cramped space. "It's a tight fit in here, so things get cluttered easily."

I surveyed the room, realizing it was more of a shed than anything else. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, illuminating the small table and bench that occupied the space. Though it was cramped, it felt cozy, and as someone not used to being indoors, I found myself enjoying the experience.

Ben carried on with our one-sided conversation while I finished my coffee. The topics were simple and mundane, but it was a pleasant distraction from my worries.

He stood up, taking the empty cup from my hands. "I have to get back to work. I know it's not much, but stay here as long as you need."

And I did. I couldn't tell how long I spent in the small room, but eventually, I found myself dozing off on the bench. When I finally awoke, a dull ache pulsed through my neck, reminding me of how long I had been there.

When I finally opened the door, a hazy purple sky greeted me, streaked with remnants of sunlight glimmering in the distance as the sun retreated.

I couldn't be sure the men had left, but I knew I had to return regardless. It was late, and despite my desire to linger in the warmth of the shed, I couldn't ignore the pull of the wilderness—it was my home.

An invisible chain tugged at me, drawing me back toward the embrace of the trees, urging me to leave the safety of the shed behind and return to the brush that I both feared and belonged to.