Fear threatened to consume any logic still lingering in her mind as Calypso walked on her tiptoes. Beneath her bare feet, the dried leaves crunched, revealing her location with each step. She could not hide behind the trees, for the forest that surrounded her looked almost mechanically designed– the trees were separated by nearly the same distance, growing in a grid-like formation. The October light filtered through their far-above leaves, further guiding her open path. 

No branches were low enough to conceal her, let alone to climb. Her mind flashed back to the previous walk she’d taken with a man she’d met with several times. He had said his name was Steven, but how could she trust him now? They met online; he paid her to spend time with him, simply spend time with him and give him the affection of a held hand or a hug as a greeting, and she couldn’t say no to the generous amount. They had been walking around a lake in the middle of nowhere, hands peacefully intertwined, till he had slipped a blade from his sleeve and held it to her wrist. No explanation. She had grabbed his wrist, twisting it away from him, the knife so close to her vein, until he began to scream. She quickly let go and ran, ran as fast as she could, without noting the direction in which she traveled. That had been the possibly fatal mistake in Calypso’s quick thinking. Other than, of course, going to a lake in the middle of nowhere with a man she thought was trustworthy.

Each step was both a revelation and accomplishment, an inhale of new breath and an exhale of the last step. The courage to move her legs was dwindling, panic taking over her mind as she pondered the greener, lusher trees that lay ahead. It was like an obstacle course; every movement yielded her to the loud crunch of the flame-colored leaves beneath her feet, to anything below them that could pierce her skin. If only the branches concealed anything at all. 

But this was not a time for “if only’s.” She could force her legs to move one more step, her back to align with the tree trunk, across the clearing. Turning around was not worth it. The sun was setting, meaning it was between around 5:00 and 6:00, meaning she was moving… west? Yes. West. The direction of the trailhead and her car. Maybe this was a tiny gift from whatever divine force had so thoroughly screwed over what would have been a beautiful autumn day. One foot in front of the other, until–

“You can’t tiptoe around like that forever, you know.”

She instantly froze, knowing there was nowhere to run next. Her mind raced, not knowing whether to speak or keep her mouth shut. He stood right behind her, knife in hand. The instinct to run overwhelmed her, but the panic would not allow her to move. “What do you even want from me?”

“Sweetheart, it’s not exactly a desire, rather a compulsion,” Steven said, stepping closer to her. “One that I can’t ignore any longer.” Standing with his back against a tree, he quickly grabbed Calypso’s wrist. He pulled her back against him, locking his arm around her neck. His other arm held the blade horizontally to her throat.  

“So what, you pay women to go out with you, then kill them once you’ve earned their trust? Leave their bodies buried in the forest to rot?” she asked with careful disdain. The only way to survive this situation, she decided, was to maintain a facade of beguiling nonchalance. Like those scenes in movies where the girl looks seductively into the killer’s eyes, taunting him with indifference. When sexuality, even through the briefest moment of eye contact, distracts a man. She’d looked at many people that way, she realized. Undressed people with her eyes. It was now her one weapon, her intangible strength; she prayed that it would be his weakness. 

“Exactly,” he murmured into her ear. “The fear is what I get off to. Other than the blood, of course. It’s so beautiful making marks all over their smooth, velvety skin, marring the beauty of youth. There’s not a greater pleasure in the world.”

“So cliché, Steven.”

“Calypso, darling, don’t say you’re not afraid of me.”

“I’m not. I am afraid of you,” she whispered, willing her body to stop shaking. 

“Then run.”

“You have a fucking knife to my throat. How am I supposed to run?” Her voice was steady, stronger than she’d ever imagined it could be in a position like this. She carefully tilted her head up to look into his eyes, the adrenaline coursing through her almost daring him to make a move.

“Risk it. It’s your only chance.”

“Do women always run from you?”

“They never run.”

“You’re sad, you know that. Destroying life because you’re too cowardly to find appreciation for it.”

“What makes you so brave?” He drew the knife closer to her throat.

“You’ll never know me well enough to find out,” she breathed as she kicked her right heel up as hard as possible, right into his crotch. He yelped in pain and stumbled sideways from the tree, the knife falling onto the leaves below. She instantly snatched it up as he lunged for her and she kicked him again, this time below the chin, leaving him writhing in pain on the ground. She stabbed the knife first into his chest, cringing horrifically at the squelching sound before stabbing it into both of his thighs. Her thinking was clear, a straight path to survival, not allowing her to hesitate. She had to get out of here before it got any darker. Calypso left him unconscious on the ground, planning to call the police as soon as she made it back to the car. Right. Her car in the distance. 

There was only one thing left to do. She sprinted, knife still in hand, across the clearing and into the greenery ahead, eventually finding the trail. Miles later, she made it back to the car. Suddenly, she realized the fact of the matter: she was holding a bloody knife. A knife that had just possibly killed a man, a man she had left in the forest to die. There was no evidence that it was self defense. Calypso swore and took the first deep breath she had in hours, a deep wave of exhaustion falling over her. This was only the beginning.