Chapter Text
Chapter 1:
Blair woke up with a start, her breath quickened as she gained awareness for where she was. She wasn’t in her tent. She was lying in the grass of what looked like a forest. Estes Park. Where’s- Oh. Her tent was torn apart. His tent and items were nowhere to be seen. He was nowhere to be seen.
“Linus!” She called out into the night. She gets up off the ground, scrapes and a sore arm apparent as she rights herself. “Linus!” Again, no answer.
Her stomach felt like it was going to crawl out of her throat. She swallowed and walked to her torn tent. The rips looked unnatural, like giant claw marks mauled at the canvas. She tried to lift it up but the pain in her right arm shot up again. She cradled it and finally noticed the large gash filled in by the dirt and grime of her surroundings. She opts for using her left arm to fish out her things from the tatters. When she managed to get her backpack, some of her items fell out of the front from another large tear. Her water bottle started to spill on the ground and she snatched it before it ran out. She takes a deep breath and pours the water on her wound. Biting back the urge to scream, she cleans out the wound as best she can with a towel from her bag. It’s deeper than she thought. To the bone.
“LINUS!” She screams. “LINUS-”
“ROWAN!” Rowan’s mother’s scream shakes her out of her reverie and when she comes back to reality she remembers she’s driving and swerves to narrowly avoid a light pole.
“ROWAN! What is wrong with you?” Wendy yells. Her big brown eyes that Rowan inherited looked horrified and angry. “Pull over there. I’m driving.”
“Okay.” Rowan said in a stupor, shaking as she pulled off her belt and slid out of the driver's side.
Wendy bites her lip to prevent snapping and switches sides with her daughter. When they are both settled in the car she sighs and looks at Rowan, once terrified eyes now soft and worried. “Are you okay? What the fuck happened?”
Rowan looks down. “I don’t know… I just… it’s embarrassing really, I was daydreaming.”
Wendy raises an exasperated eyebrow. “You were… daydreaming?”
If you could call it daydreaming. Who daydreams involuntarily? Rowan thought. It’s been a few weeks now that Rowan has been having weird thoughts and dreams of being someone else. Not that she liked being herself anyway, but this was far beyond just wishing you were someone else. It started out as a weird dream. She was another girl. Different face, different age. And for some reason when she dreamed, it was like Rowan didn’t even exist. When she dreamed of being this girl, she was wholly this person. She was Blair Bolton, Twenty years old, college student in Boulder, studying Athletic Sciences. She wanted to be a personal trainer and nutritionist. Not really Rowan’s idea of a fun career, she wanted to be a veterinarian, but still Blair’s thoughts and dreams seemed to persist like a worm wriggling in Rowan’s consciousness and now they were affecting her chance to get a driver’s license.
“I don’t know if you’re ready for the test yet.” Her mother said almost as if she were reading her thoughts.
“What? I’ve been doing really good! That was the only time that’s happened!”
“You almost rammed into that light pole. You could have totaled my car, Ro!”
“Yeah, almost and could have! But I didn’t!”
Wendy gave another sigh and put the car in drive. “You can daydream all you want, just not behind the wheel.”
Rowan sunk back into the passenger seat, holding her tongue. She knew what would happen if she started anything with her mom. Their screaming matches would always end with a slamming door. They were closer in age than what is socially acceptable for their small town. Wendy had Rowan when she was only sixteen and Wendy reminded her every time they fought how hard it was being a single mother at sixteen. Now that Rowan was the same age, she couldn’t imagine raising a kid by herself.
“We can drive tomorrow, I want you to get your license before school starts.” Wendy said.
“Well it’s not for another month, so I have time.”
Wendy begins to interject but stays silent, pulling into the driveway of their home. It was a humble double-wide on two acres of land, siding cracked and falling, the once white paint now a dull yellow, chipping and stained by the elements. Their dogs came running to them as they parked in the gravel drive.
“Feed the dogs will ya?” Wendy asked-told Rowan as she walked to the door with her keys.
“Already on it.” Rowan sighed as she ambled to their dog bowls on the porch.
*****
The next month, Rowan hadn’t had any more “daydreams.” She was starting to think they’d never actually happened to begin with. She passed her written and driving test and could now use her mom’s beat up 90’s mini van to get to school. Rowan awoke for her first day of school and did the rounds of feeding her dogs and other animals along the property. Wendy left for work early so her mornings were spent in solitude. She tried not to think about the desire to smoke a joint and instead decided to cook. If Wendy caught a whiff of it, Rowan would lose driving privileges. And she at least wanted to have the first joint of the school year with her friends under the bleachers. She went to the kitchen to satiate her craving for eggs and grabbed a small skillet hanging above the kitchen island, turned on the stove, and grabbed two fresh eggs from the counter. She dripped some oil in the pan and when she held on to the skillet’s rubber handle again she felt a burning flash under her grip and accidentally spilled the oil and pan on the floor.
Rowan breathed shakily through her teeth and examined her hand. There were little white blisters forming over her now-red skin. But that didn’t make any sense… The heat was not on high enough or long enough for it to make the handle burn her like that. She lightly touched the skillet’s handle again with a quick finger on her other hand and it was cold. Rowan started to feel a stone in her gut that she didn’t quite like.
She skipped breakfast to bandage her hand and drove slowly and carefully to school, using the back side of her hurt hand when needed.
*****
“RO RO!” Rowan heard a familiar voice call to her as she walked across the grass lawn to the doors of their old brick school. Only a handful of rooms in the historic building, but there was an addition of a gymnasium and more classrooms on either side, bracketing it like the new guard coming to take its turn. A young girl, Rowan’s age, with hair in two short brown french braids, blue and white ribbons weaved through them like laces around a sun-kist mousey face. Her eyes were green and bright with joy and early crows-feet due to excessive smiling, which she was doing right then at Rowan through her braces.
Rowan fought the way her heart fluttered and instead swallowed and smiled like a normal person and not someone who was hopeless. Because she wasn’t, of course. “Farrah!” Rowan ran to her and gave her a big hug, lifting her smaller friend off the ground. The smell of her laundry detergent and a new floral perfume permeated Rowan’s senses and she let her back down, gently. This was her best friend since they were in elementary school. The friend who was there when Rowan ran away from home, the one she was there for when Farrah’s own father went to jail and her mother overdosed. The friend she helped move into her grandparents place with. That was why Rowan can’t make it weird by catching feelings. She also hadn’t seen a single queer person anywhere but tv. Rowan knew just how much of a ruckus it would cause in their little town. She had to be Farrah’s friend and want nothing else but then-
When Farrah was freed her eyes widened at the sight of Rowan’s wrapped hand. “What happened?” Farrah gently grabbed her wrist to examine the injury.
“Oh yeah funny story, I can’t cook.” She tried to sound cool. Hopefully she sounded cool.
Farrah looked at her with her eyebrows together. “Ro, you gotta be careful!”
“No duh. It’s not like it felt good.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah I do. And I will.” She offered a smile as they walked to their lockers. Farrah listed the AP classes she was taking and Rowan silently hurt that she wouldn’t get to share many classes with her.
During lunch Farrah fought Rowan’s stubbornness and tried to convince her to go to the nurses office about her hand. Even when Rowan insisted it didn’t hurt anymore.
“That’s even more worrying! Maybe your nerves are damaged.”
Rowan rolled her eyes but relented.
Mrs. Napier unwrapped Rowan’s bandage gently and examined her palm.
“Woah.” Rowan gasped. Her hand was already almost completely healed. Blisters gone, all but one of the bigger ones that was now down to the size of a thumbtack, redness fading to a dull pink.
“Oh, this won't be too bad.” The nurse said, grabbing some petroleum jelly and a new bandage wrap.
“I thought you said you had a bunch of blisters?” Farrah said. “You’re so dramatic. Don’t worry me like that.”
Rowan stayed silent, staring at her palm, that creeping feeling lingering in her gut.
*****
Blair’s heart was pounding against her ribs as she ran, her breath coming in short and fast like jagged knives stabbing her lungs, the smell of forest and sweat and blood in the hot, humid air.
That thing. What IS that thing? She could hear its insidious growling inches away from her, bringing uncontrollable shivers and goosebumps along her spine and she knew if she let up now, she'd be kibbles and bits. Her bare feet were sliced up by sharp rocks and branches, but the adrenaline in her system made her ignore it.
Blair could tell the thing was playing with her. It could have easily closed in on her, but it was all in the chase, it slowed on the occasions that it caught up to her and let her get away again.
Blair’s bloody feet slipped over a rock and she fell hard, the impact going from her knees to her head in a wave. Her body shook and she tried to crawl forward, but the thing was upon her. It turned her onto her back with a swoop of its large, bear-like paw. Her eyes widened as she met its own. Blue but uncanny, like a husky’s. She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, or if it was really crying. Pure terror gripped her stomach and paralyzed her body as she came to the realization that she wasn’t going to make it, wasn’t going to see her friends or family again, wasn’t going to graduate or get married, have children. If she had enough breath in her she would have made a guttural wail, but she could barely move at all.
The thing looked down at her with greedy eyes. It pinned her down even though it didn’t need to.
Her lungs granted her one last word. A weak “Please-”
Fangs on flesh; the thing gnawed into her neck and shoulder, separating her head from the rest of her body, its tears streaming out of its icy eyes and Blaire Bolton was no more.
Rowan shot up from her bed with Blair’s unspoken scream on her lips. As she pulled her sweaty body out of her comforter Wendy opened her bedroom door with a crash as it slammed against the wall, leaving a hole in the paneling where the knob lodged itself in.
“Are you okay?!” Wendy yells, handgun at the ready.
Rowan breathes heavily. “I- I don’t know. I think it was…” she trailed off.
“Rowan Ann Bishop!”
Rowan… that’s her name. Right. She’s Rowan. Blair is a dream. She’s not real. It’s all a dream. “It was a dream. A nightmare. I was… Being eaten alive.” Rowan shivered even while being covered in sweat. It felt so real. Every tear of her skin. Every pierce of its teeth.
Wendy gave a frustrated sigh of relief. “Good god. I’m sorry Ro.” But there was something behind her mother’s eyes that Rowan couldn’t quite identify.
*****
Wendy couldn't hide the concern on her face when she looked at the state of her daughter the next morning and allowed her to stay home from school.
Fatigue shrouded Rowan like a weighted blanket, eyes stung and her head was swimming and pounding dully.
The only things Rowan could muster were tossing and turning and only managed to get up when she had to pee. She walked into the bathroom and refused to look into the mirror, only glancing up for a split second when washing her hands and her fears were validated. There, she saw Blair Bolton, covered in dirt, and dried blood, that looked black in the dimness of the room. Rowan jumped back and shut her eyes. When she opened them again, her reflection was headless and mangled.
"No!" Rowan cried and sank down to the floor. She started heaving on the tile and crawled to the toilet to expel the canned soup her mom made her earlier. She looked down at her hands, they were clean, no blood or dirt even under the nails, her body was also unharmed. Her breath shook out of her and she finally pulled herself back up. Rowan prepared herself for the unpreparable and walked to the mirror again. Blair was gone, all that was there was Rowan's ghost of an expression on her face, clearly attached to her neck.
I feel like I'm sleep walking, but I'm wide awake. Is this some fucked up sleep paralysis where I'm not paralyzed, but still can't do anything about it?
She cupped her throat with both palms and walked back to her bed to sleep this nightmare away.
Rowan’s ringtone awoke her from yet another restless sleep. She glared at her phone and ripped it from the charger. It was Farrah. She gave a guilty sigh and answered. “Hey.” the gritty whisper she mustered shocked her, and Farrah too.
“Hey, to you too. Are you alright? I haven't gotten a single reply from you in two days.” Farrah’s tone was clipped, but also concerned.
“Yeah, uh. Sorry. I’ve caught something and have been sleeping it off- or trying to for the most part.”
“Do you need anything from me? I took notes on our classes so maybe I can come over, feed you, and catch you up.”
Rowan feels a pull in her chest and a beat goes by.
“I mean if you’re not contagious or anything, ha.” Farrah let out one of her awkward little breathy laughs at the end of her sentence.
Rowan hesitated again.
“You’re probably right.” Farrah replied to the air. “Not a great idea. Stay quarantined, but I’ll make you some soup and leave it on your porch and-”
“No, actually, it's not contagious, it’s- it’s weird. Can I… trust you with a secret?”
“Oh my god are you pregnant?”
“NO! No. I’m just- Look promise me you won't think I’m crazy?”
“I’m coming over.”
And before Rowan could protest, Farrah hung up the phone.
Oh god, what am I doing? Rowan thought, putting her face in her hands and pacing the room. She’s gonna think I’m crazy. I don’t want her looking at me like I should be institutionalized. But if anyone would understand, it would be Farrah. Farrah faced so many bullies due to her parents substance abuse issues, and when Farrah was nine her father was arrested for robbery. And not even a year after, her mother died of an overdose. News travels fast in a small town and before she even hit middle school, every one of her peers knew who her parents were. It was a miracle that she excelled in school. Farrah said she had to in order to get out. If she could graduate with good grades she could get scholarships and get out of this place. Taking Rowan with her, of course, because “Where would I be without you?” She’d say. As if she wasn’t the one who kept Rowan from having to repeat grades.
Farrah arrived quickly in her cheap, but pristine interior kia, with ingredients for soup, a backpack nearly bursting at the seams, and her signature smile that immediately dropped to shock when she saw Rowan’s face on the other side of the door. “Roro, oh my god.” Her face softened to a curious concern. “Talk to me.”
Rowan let her in and they walked to her room, sure to close the door behind them. Even though Wendy was out, Rowan wanted to make sure they weren’t overheard.
Farrah immediately made herself at home on her bed as she had done for the last eight years and gestured to Rowan to do the same.
Rowan let out a sigh that racked her entire body. “I have been having the most intense bizarre nightmares.”
Farrah looked her up and down and rested her eyes back on Rowans, unblinking. “And they are doing this to you?” She brushed a strand of Rowan’s hair and gestured to Rowan’s face as exhibit A.
Rowan nodded. “I know it sounds crazy-”
“It doesn’t.” Farrah said matter-o-factly. “I used to get the worst nightmares, I would sleep deprive myself just so I wouldn't have to see my dad again.”
Rowan remembered having slumber parties early in their friendship, when Farrah would wake up in a cold sweat, but she looked nothing like the state Rowan was in. “Yeah but… Do you ever have dreams where you don’t exist, and you are someone else?”
Farrah looked confused.
“I have been dreaming that I am another girl. She has a name- it’s Blair Bolton, lives in Colorado, her mom’s name is Sandra Denise Bolton, her dad’s is Lincoln Roy Bolton. She-”
“Woah.” Farrah said, her eyes were wide. “Can’t say that I’ve ever had a dream of being-”
“That’s not all.” Rowan said, this time holding Farrah’s wrists. “I dreamt she was killed by a giant werewolf or something. And I felt it. I felt everything.” Rowan couldn’t hide the desperation on her face for her friend to believe her.
“I don’t know what to say, god that’s just awful. I’m so sorry Ro.”
“You believe me?”
“Of course I do! Look at you! Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
Rowan paled at that.
“Look, I don’t know what is wrong, but I believe you. You have no reason to lie. Plus, you hate theatrics.” Farrah smiled and took her arms out of Rowan’s grip to hug her tightly. She smelled like vanilla and brown sugar today, and her hair smelled warm and tinny from blow drying. Rowan wondered how bad she herself smelled from all the sweating and throwing up.
“Now, let’s make you some soup!” Farrah said, breaking away.
Farrah poured her homemade chicken noodle into two of Rowan’s melamine bowls and Rowan watched the broth, rotini, and vegetables cascade in an almost mesmerized state. She hadn’t realized how starving she was until now and she hoped she would be able to keep it down.
“Oh no!” Farrah said, smacking her head with her hand. “I forgot saltines!”
“Oh that's okay, we have some.” Rowan went to the pantry but Farrah gently grabbed her shoulder.
“You need to sit down. I got this.” She said and handed Rowan her bowl of soup and a spoon. She accepted it and gave Farrah a warm smile before sitting down on the couch in the living room. She could hear Farrah rifling through the pantry for the saltines as she turned on the tv.
Rowan nearly dropped her soup when she saw what was on the news. On the text crawl of Ark10 news’ banner were the words “Missing woman’s body found in Estes Park campground.”
“Oookay!” Farrah said in a sing-song voice as she sidled in with her soup and a sleeve of saltines.
“Farrah…” Was all Rowan could muster, so she pointed to the screen where a journalist was now talking about the scene of the alleged animal attack.
“UC Boulder student Blair Bolton’s body was found today at an Estes Park campground where she was last seen by witnesses with her boyfriend. Autopsy Technicians say it is a suspected animal attack, the markings matching that of a bear, but they said it’s still too early to call it. Linus Agnew, her boyfriend who is still missing, could possibly be a victim of this animal as well.”
“Oh my god.” Farrah’s bowl slips from her hand and starts to fall to the floor. Rowan reaches out for it and as it’s about to hit the floor it stops in midair, hovering just above the carpet. Rowan’s hand nowhere near close enough to catch it.
Farrah stared in awe and as soon as Rowan looked up at her to meet her eyes, the bowl hit the carpet with a light thud, only some of the soup spilled out. “What the fuck?” Farrah says.
“I don’t know either. Rowan said, first staring at the bowl of soup, and then to Farrah, and then back to the tv which now showed a graduation photo of Blair. She was in a white dress, with puffy sleeves, and little blue flowers. Her auburn hair looked like it was glowing in the summer light and her back was against a willow tree. She had a contagious smile.
“That’s her isn’t it?” Farrah said, looking at Blair’s photo with an identifiable expression.
Rowan could only muster a nod.