Cabin in the Woods

The car pulls up beside the stream, and a beautiful cabin comes into view. As I begin to unload, Jasper waves from the doorway before rushing over to help me carry my things to the cabin. This weekend is going to be perfect, a small countryside retreat with our close-knit friend group to forget about the events of the past few weeks. I smile and thank Jasper before following him inside. Upon entering the cabin, I realise that I am the last to arrive. Everyone greets me warmly and I am shown to my room: a small one on the far-left side of our accommodation. The interior is plain, a few sofas, beds, and little decoration. There is much empty space to allow for games or perhaps even storing boats or rafts for the stream. I remind myself again in my mind: this weekend will be to unwind, to forget, nothing can ruin our trip.

I plant myself on a huge, plump in living area; and am joined by Cleo a few moments later, “Wow, I haven’t felt this relaxed for months, I didn’t realise how much that whole ordeal at school was affecting me!” she exclaims as she sits down beside me. Although I’m not really listening to her, I am grateful for Cleo’s presence. At 7pm our whole group sits down for a magnificent dinner of roasted chicken, but the atmosphere is tense and awkward. Afterward, Cleo suggests an intense game of truth or dare to lighten the mood: “Come on!” she urges, “It will be fun”. Eventually we all agree, and we sit on the floor in the dimly lit room together. I start. “Truth or dare…” I look around the room, “Quinn,” I ask. “Dare,” he responds with a grin, “always!”                                           “I dare you to jump into the stream outside right now.” Quinn acquiesces and we all traipse outside in the dark to accompany him. “It’s less than 10 degrees!” he exclaims. He jumps in without further protest and immediately leaps out to grab himself a towel.

We reconvene on the kitchen floor and Quinn proceeds, “Truth or dare, Cleo,” he turns to look expectantly at her, “Truth,” she says without pause, “I am not jumping in that stream.”                                                                                                                                                             “What is something you probably shouldn't tell us,” The smile on Cleo’s face falters for a second, but she answers anyway. “That one time Jasper asked me to order cat food, I saw in his buy history, that exact knife,” Cleo’s voice breaks and becomes a whisper, “that they found with Marcus.” The silence in the room is deafening, and Selene’s face becomes pale. She stands up to leave. “I’m feeling a bit sick, I’ll see you guys tomorrow morning.” After that, the tension never really fades, and the evening is ruined. Within the next 20 minutes, everyone has made an excuse to leave, and only Cleo and I are left together in the darkness. “Cleo,” I whisper, “was that, that about Jasper. Was that true.” “I wish it wasn’t.” Cleo sighs. “Why do you think Selene was so shaken?” she asks me, “I guess her and Jasper have grown quite close recently?” I ponder, “maybe she was nervous for him.”                                                                                                                                      “I’m not so sure… Don’t worry yourself, come on it’s getting late, let’s go to bed.” Cleo has a point. No friend would get that nervous over an accusation they have supposedly just heard. Maybe there is something deeper. My mind is racing as I get ready for bed, and I have trouble falling asleep with so much to think about. Could one of my best friends be a murderer?

I am woken at 5 am by a shrill scream. I rush along the corridor and see Lydia stood over a silhouette on the ground. As I come closer, I make out more of the figure: light brown hair, a dress embroidered with shells, a gold necklace with a sword charm. Cleo. Her skin is a pale shade of grey, and foam is seeping from her lips. My breath begins to quicken, and my pulse soars. I run to the bathroom and retch into the toilet bowl. My best friend. Cleo. Dead. The same train of thoughts play over and over in my mind, and realisation hits me. It was one of us.

I lock myself in my room; I need time with my own thoughts to process what has just happened. I think about the scene of yesterday, Selene’s pale face, Jasper’s guilty silence. It was one of them, I am sure of that. The question is, which one? I call for Quinn. He enters my room and sees the state I am in: tears streak down my face from hysterical crying. He comforts me, but I can see he is shaken too. “Quinn, who do you think did it?” I whisper, terrified of being overheard. “I don’t know Mara, maybe someone else came in?” He is grasping at straws. “We all know it was one of us, come on, who do you really think?”                                           “Selene or Jasper. Can’t quite think which.” I nod in agreement. We go over everything from the night before together. First Selene’s reaction to Cleo’s confession, then Jasper not even trying to deny it. “Jasper must know everyone would suspect him if something like this happened. He’s smart. I don’t think he would overlook that.” Quinn makes a good point. “But Selene is always so calm and empathetic, I don’t think she could ever do something like that!” I don’t believe either of them could be responsible for murder either. “I know the truth is hard to face, Mara, but it must be her, everything makes sense like that.” I burst into tears again with the thought of it. “We have to confront her.” I say. “I’ll speak, you record from somewhere else. Then we have proof. Quinn nods solemnly.

“Selene, could I talk to you for a minute.” I call. She walks down the hall into my room. We shut the door and begin our conversation. “Was it you?” The accusation hangs in the air, “No, I loved Cleo, I would never do something like that!” Selene desperately defends herself to no avail. “Even if she was threatening to reveal what you did?” As she realises I know the whole truth, Selene begins to beg: “Please! I didn’t mean to kill Marcus, he was just so insufferable, and the knife was there and…” She trails off and sobs wrack her shoulders. I’m lost between feeling rage and disappointment, so I just feel empty. “But why! You could have just negotiated!”                                                                                                             “You know Cleo would always stand by justice even if I was at stake, she would have confessed at some point. You know that too. Don’t deny it.” Selene is right. Cleo would have told the teachers eventually. “I’m so sorry Selene.”                                           “Please, if no-one knows we are all safe! We can cover this up Mara!”                               “I’ll think about it Selene.” The decision will destroy me. I can have justice for Cleo at the expense of Selene, but a scandal this deep will tear our group apart, I will be friendless. But if I stay silent, Cleo will never be avenged. No-one will ever know what happened to her. I have lost one friend already. I can’t lose another. I call her back. “Selene, I’ll do it.” My agreement feels heavy, wrong. “Thank you.” Selene whispers. Tears of relief pour down her face. Despite this, I document everything: I save Quinn’s recording; I take pictures of everything. And when we leave on Sunday, I am ready.

One month later

The night we buried Cleo -behind the cabin where nobody could accidentally stumble upon her- we all took a vow to never speak of the incidents of that weekend. The whole time I felt wrong, the guilt is overwhelming and I still haven’t forgotten anything. Now I am at the beach. It was always Cleo’s happy place, the shouting of children playing, the calming sound of the ocean, the warm sand, the sun, the ice cream. Being here brings back so many memories, I can picture her smiling, her hair tied back and wearing a sun hat. She would have loved to be here with me. The pier is full of games and endless food. And I am surrounded by hurt. This is my fault, for suggesting the trip. My fault for not staying with her a little longer. My fault for not checking on her, for covering this up, for living life without her. It hurts. Knowing that if I had acted differently she could still be here, could sit on this beach and laugh with me. Cleo gave me one of the best years of my life, and I will never forget her. I pull out the folder with all the evidence and call a taxi to the nearest police station. Cleo needs justice. I need vengeance.She would be proud.