My feet settle into the pine needles on the ground, cracking and crunching under my black Converse. The bark of the tree snags my hair, and I wince as a strand is plucked from my scalp. I rub the spot and scowl.
Still, the woods are my favorite place to be. It’s quiet, peaceful, and no one can touch me here. I miss my dad. I miss what my life used to be. I hate always having to be on guard. I don’t mind being alone if I can learn how to adapt to being lonely.
With another wipe of my cheek, I open the app and sign into the account I created last night. The site says I’m twenty-six, a redhead with green eyes, and looking to meet new people. My age is the only thing that’s a lie on my profile. It’s wrong, I know that, but I need an escape. Nothing is ever going to come of this, so what’s the big deal?
It isn’t like I can say I’m eighteen because I’m not for another two weeks, and no one on this site is going to talk to an eighteen-year-old. The only thing I don’t have on there yet is a profile picture, so I lift the camera and take a quick snap of the tree tops and peak of the blue morning sky.
“There,” I say, happy to see that my profile is now complete. “Oh.” I click the edit button on the ‘about me’ page and add that I love hiking and being in the woods. It’s true. It’s like a second home to me, the only place I feel safe.
I set my phone down and lean my head against the tree, imagining a place where I’m safe, loved, and protected. Even if it’s just a friend, someone I can be myself around and my guard isn’t up, I’ll be happy.
I’m not looking for forever. I’m looking for sanctuary. A place to call home.
I’m almost asleep when the sound of my phone dinging pulls me out of my slumber. The sun is shining between the tree branches, and my cheeks are warm from the early morning heat. I blink away the drowsiness and rub my eyes, staring at a notification from LoveFocus.
It’s a message from IsaacGray88.
I bite my lip and debate if I’m really going to do this, if I’m really going to answer. If I do, there’s no going back. I don’t know who Isaac is, and if he finds out the truth, he’ll be the one to get in trouble if word ever gets out.
It’s a good thing I know how to keep my mouth shut. Not one has to find out. It can be my secret. The entire point of creating this profile is because I want to talk to new people, get away from my everyday life and maybe find a splinter of happiness.
The hell with it.
I click on the message, and the app takes a second to load. I huff out a breath of annoyance and slap my phone in my palm as if that will help. As if on cue, his message pops up.
IsaacGray88: Hi. How are you? I noticed the picture you posted. You like the woods?
Well, so far he doesn’t seem creepy. He could have started with something like, “Why didn’t you post a picture of your face?” Or worse, “Let me see your tits.”
Something I’ve heard so many teenage boys say since they run off erections and hormones. It’s disgusting.
Before I reply, I click on his profile. I smile when I see his profile picture is of a beach. It’s pretty. There are a lot of cliffs, and the sand is dark. It’s different than Virginia. Maybe he isn’t who the site says he is either if he isn’t posting a picture of himself? I’m relieved. I don’t care what he looks like.
I’m just glad to have someone to talk to.
I decide to risk it.
FinleyPark: I’m alright. You? I love the woods. They are my escape.
For the hell of it, I snap a picture of the trees in front of me and send it.
IsaacGray88: Looks beautiful. I could go for a good hike.
I stand and wipe the back of my jeans to get the dirt and the pine needles off when I see the time. I need to start walking to school before I’m late for class. My phone dings again.
IsaacGray88: Is your name actually Finley Park? Is there a story behind it?
FinleyPark: Yes, but the story isn’t that impressive. It will bore you to death.
IsaacGray88: Can’t be any worse than seeing my roommate try to see how many Cheetos he can fit down his leg cast.
“That’s disgusting.” I chuckle.
IsaacGray88: I know. You don’t have to say it. I know.
Placing one foot in front of the other, I begin the journey to school, enjoying the easy conversation between Isaac and me.
IsaacGray88: What are you doing today?
The question has me freezing mid-step. I hate lying, but I don’t know what else to do.
FinleyPark: I have the day off work. I’m enjoying the nature of Virginia.
Half-truths are half-lies. Nothing good can come from them except temporary happiness, but it’s something I’m selfishly wanting, even if it doesn’t last forever.
Chapter Three
GRAYSON
Talking to a stranger shouldn’t make me so happy, but it does. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. It’s new, exciting, and she doesn’t know my past. There’s no pressure to outdo myself, to prove that I’m not the man the past makes me out to be. I’m not what people accused me of being. Once people find out that I have a record with ‘rapist’ stamped on it, no one wants anything to do with me.
And, of course, there are the men who are rapists and say they aren’t. They believe their victims asked for it, but that’s not who I
