A man or a bear

“Sophie, Sophie.”

I hear someone calling my name in my dreams. No, not in my dreams. Someone is outside my tent. It’s Stephen. I look at my phone. Midnight.

“What is it?” I answer, my mind still partly lost in the dream.

“Will you let me in?”

I pull down the zipper and see his radiant face, as if he had slept for nine hours in the comfortable bed of a luxury hotel. Handsome, just as he was when I met him six hours earlier at my campsite. His beard neatly trimmed, his smile revealing perfectly straight, impossibly white teeth.

Over dinner, we talked about everything: why we were here, the world moving too fast that we both wanted to escape from, what we would do when we went home. A chance encounter had turned into a first date, without an app, without a mutual friend introducing us: just two people who had decided to do the same thing at the same time. Maybe that was what compatibility really meant.

But we didn’t go any further than talking. We each went into our own tent, both hesitating a little, waiting for one of us to make the first move. Neither of us had. Until now.

Stephen looks at me, moves closer, and kisses me without saying a word, because he knows I want it too, even though I never told him. And then we are in my tent, pressed against each other, swept up in passion, until his expression changes. His smile turns into a grin, his deep eyes become empty, and he starts touching me more forcefully. He holds me too tightly, until it hurts.

“Stephen, slower,” I whisper.

But he doesn't seem to hear me. He keeps going, carried by his own impulse. He takes my face in his hands, kisses me again, and then grabs my neck and squeezes. I struggle to breathe. I don't know what is happening.

“Stop. What are you doing?” I say, barely able to get the words out as my throat grows tighter and tighter.

He doesn't stop. He doesn't answer. He lets out a grunt. I see madness in his face, an expression I have never seen before except on television. I understand what is happening. This isn't a joke. I'm going to die here, inside this tent. Shame takes over. You were stupid, it tells me. Why did you let him in? Why did you trust him? So this is how some men kill women. And I will become one of them. My parents will see the news on television, knowing that the young woman they are talking about is their daughter.

And that thought gives me strength. I use the last of my energy to kick him. He releases me with a groan, and I run into the woods. I run through the darkness without knowing where I'm going, like Snow White after she meets the huntsman. I run until I have nothing left, without looking back, until I finally collapse to the ground, exhausted, somewhere off the trail.

I think about the day I decided to take this stupid trip. The day I watched Wild and thought it was a good idea to go backpacking alone into the wilderness. With no experience. Without ever having gone camping in my life. My family was a resort-and-spa-and-pool kind of family, preferably all-inclusive.

But I needed to escape from this world where I was bombarded with information, as if someone were pelting me with news, opportunities, advice on how to become a better person.

I wanted to spend a week disconnected from everyone, surrounded by nature and nothing else. Hearing only the sounds of animals, the wind moving through the trees. Breathing in the smell of earth and pine needles.

I spent a month preparing. I read books, watched videos. And then, after two days of hiking, I met Stephen, who invaded the intimacy I had created with nature. But he was attractive, interesting, and I let him join my solitude. 

Silence. Stephen hasn't followed me. Or maybe he gave up trying to follow me through the darkness. I’m cold. My teeth are chattering. And then I hear a sound.

I was wrong. Stephen is here. The trembling from the cold is joined by trembling from fear. I am hiding behind a tree, perfectly still, more still than the tree itself. The only source of light is the moon filtering through the branches. I listen more carefully. Footsteps. But they don't sound like a man's footsteps. They sound more like an animal.

I lean out from behind the tree and see it, tall and powerful, wandering around as if searching for food. A bear. Another wave of fear washes over me. I left my bear spray in the tent. I have forgotten what you're supposed to do when you encounter a bear. I’m going to die here, behind this tree. So this is how bears kill people. People who venture into their territory, into their home.

And I will become one of them. One of those people who didn't respect nature, who came here thinking that they will find themselves, just because they watched a movie about it. They will write about it in the newspapers. They'll talk about it on television. And my parents will read about it.

And no one will ever know that it was Stephen, or why I ran into the woods and disturbed the bears. I'll just be a stupid woman who was killed by a bear. Fear paralyzes me. The bear is getting closer. I can smell its acrid scent, feel its warmth. Its muzzle is now right in front of mine, just like Stephen's face had been inside the tent. It sniffs me. I don't move. It walks away.

My heart is still pounding, then slowly begins to settle, until exhaustion takes over and I fall asleep.

A pain in my back wakes me. I have slept sitting up against the tree. It is still dark, but the sky is beginning to turn pale blue. There is silence, but not the same silence as during the night. Every now and then, I hear a bird singing. I am alive.

But I don't know where I am. I know I'm two days' walk from the road. I have nothing with me. No food. No water-purification tablets. No map. No phone. And I realize that I'm going to die here, slowly, from hunger and thirst. The ranger will see that the return date written in the note on the car has passed and call my emergency contact. They'll come looking for me. And they'll find me dead, lying on the ground among the pine needles.

Maybe they won't even write about it in the newspapers.I came here because I felt lost, and now I'm truly lost.

I get up. My back hurts more than it did yesterday under the weight of the twenty-kilogram pack as I walked. I walk toward the part of the sky that is growing lighter because I know my campsite was west of the trail and I need to head east.

But fear takes hold of me again. What if I run into Stephen? What if I run into the bear? Maybe I should just let myself die here.

I sit down again and start to cry, first silently, then in a desperate, broken sob, with deep, shuddering breaths like when I was a child. Because now I am in nature, and there is no one here to judge me. Isn't crying perhaps the most primordial expression of being human?

A morning so different from yesterday, when I surrendered myself to a liberating laugh, delighted by the absence of anything made by human hands around me. By the feeling of fresh air against my bare feet, and the adrenaline of the adventure I was living replacing the caffeine I had needed so badly back home. The home I will probably never see again.

Then I hear a voice.

“Are you okay?”

A man is kneeling beside me, his backpack still on his shoulders. I can’t answer. I’m too tired, still too scared and I don’t know what to do. I feel I’ve lost my sense of judgment.

“Can you stand up? Are you hurt?” He asks, and he offers his hand. I don’t take it.

I try to stand up but my legs feel heavy, so I sit again and I start crying again. 

“ You are safe. I will wait with you until you feel better and then we will walk together. Is it okay?” 

I nod. He sits near me and stays silent. Maybe I won’t die here.