I stumble backward, almost falling.

He’s not wearing a Santa hat. No. This man has a black bag over his head, tied with a frayed rope around his neck. Harsh, crooked holes are cut out over his nose and mouth. The forest falls deathly silent—the only sound is our breathing. Mine is ragged; his is steady and even.

We stare at each other, or at least I think we do. His eyes are shadowed beneath the dark material over his head, but I assume he’s staring back at me because I can feel it right down to my bones, and it freezes me with fear.

“I can smell your fear. It’s so perfect, so raw and innocent. The more scared you are, the more I like you.”

My voice is almost less than a whisper. “I wanted to see the tree. That’s all.” I’m back in the dark, dirty room with an even darker and dirtier man, bowing to his insane demands, trying to avoid further confrontation.

“Tell me what you were thinking right before I came in here. Tell me what you miss the most.”

His head tilts slowly to the side, his silence menacing as he studies me.

Sometimes, silence roars. I’ve heard it.

Newly acquired common sense tells me to run. But I ran in the past, and I was caught and punished. An innocent person who tried to help was hurt too. Because of me. Backing up slowly, I keep my eyes leveled on his masked face. “I’m going to leave now,” I say softly, continuing to back up. When he doesn’t move, I turn and walk back in the direction I came from, silently praying he lets me walk away. I take twenty steps, with my heart pounding, before I turn to check behind me.

He’s gone.

Turning in a circle, I frantically search my surroundings, dizzying myself, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Monsters are everywhere. You can’t escape them. They will always, always find you.

I walk as fast as I possibly can back to the road, my eyes darting through the woods, hoping to see Poppy while, at the same time, petrified the strange man will jump out at me again. Did that even happen? I push my hair out of my face and press my fingers to my temples, not sure if I imagined it all.

Miraculously, I find the road, relief overpowering me that I didn’t get lost. When I reach the driver waiting for me at the side of the road, I’m out of breath and covered in a cold sweat.

“You okay?” she asks as I slam the car door behind me.

“Yes,” I reply, heart still racing. I press my face nearly into the window, looking out into the woods. “Did you see anyone?”

“Who?” she asks, confusion in her voice.

“Anyone,” I answer impatiently. “Did you see anyone walking around? Or a little white dog?”

She shakes her head and starts the car. “You trippin’? I didn’t see anyone at all. Or a dog. Sorry.”

As scared and worried as I am, I tell myself Poppy looked happy. His tail was wagging. He went willingly with the man with the Santa hat, so he must be a good person. Poppy would never wag his tail if he were scared. But even with that small amount of comfort, I know I can’t just forget him and hope he’s okay forever. I need to make sure he’s safe, and maybe, just maybe, I can bring him home. Having Poppy living with me would definitely make me happy.

When the taxi driver drops me off at Merryfield, she gives me her business card so I can contact her again when I need to be taken someplace. I shove it in my pocket, already knowing I’m going to be calling her tomorrow.

For once, I’m glad Feather is engrossed in a deep phone conversation when I get home. I’m way too rattled to talk to her right now, and I definitely don’t want her to see me this way. She’ll start hammering me with questions I’m just not ready to answer. I’m not even sure if what happened today really happened. There’s a possibility I made it all up in my head.

I take a long, hot shower—one of the few things in life that calms me. I didn’t have a shower when I was taken, only an old, dirty bathtub with no hot water, which still makes me shiver just thinking about it.

Before I climb into bed, I do my nightly ritual of looking out my window at the moon and stars, which are bright like city lights tonight.

“I miss the sky and the sun and the moon and the stars. I miss knowing if it’s day or night out.”

“Day or night, it’s all the same for you, little girl.”

A tiny spark of light draws my attention away from the sky. Out in the yard, near one of the storage sheds, I can barely make out the shadowy figure of a man smoking a cigarette in the dark. Frowning, I pull the window blind down and step away. It’s probably one of the other patients, even though smoking is not allowed here.