Don't Drink

It’d been a year since Jules went missing.

For every other high schooler, MEA weekend was a godsend, a fall break to mark the halfway point in the semester and a chance to finally let the sleep-deprived teenagers zonk. But for Hannah, the long weekend was an unwelcome reminder of all that she had lost.

As the trees raced by in a blur of red, orange, and yellow, dread filled her mind. The idea of having to spend the weekend at the cabin where her sister went missing was unbearable. She couldn’t believe her parents could even consider going back to that place, let alone the fact that they’d actually decided to go.

Deep down, she wondered that, like Hannah, they had a small glimmer of hope that Jules would be waiting for them in the old cabin. The idea was far-fetched, but what else were you supposed to do when your oldest daughter went out one day and never came back?

As the car bumped over the gravel driveway and the small wooden cabin came into view, Hannah held her breath. Maybe, just maybe, Jules would be waiting. For a few moments, everyone sat in silence and stared at the dark windows, the porch swing blowing in the gentle breeze and the undisturbed fallen leaves that littered the ground around the front porch.

If someone had been there, the lights would’ve been on and the leaves pushed aside so that they could get in. As the little glimmer of hope shattered, Hannah took a deep breath and opened the car door to go inside.

As she crossed the short distance from the car to the front porch, a sudden chill filled the air. Dancing along with the breeze, a frightened voice softly whispered, “Don’t drink.”

Hannah stopped and looked around, confused. “Mom, did you say something?”

“No dear,” her mom distractedly replied.

Hannah looked around the cabin and into the trees. Everything was silent and still, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was out there. She shook her head and smiled. Of course there was something out there, they were on a popular lake with dozens of cabins. Hannah had probably just heard the neighbors. She hoisted her backpack up and walked across the creaky wood patio to get to the front door.

The door opened, and Hannah was immediately thrown back to the last time she was truly happy, before they lost Jules. The cabin remained untouched from the last time they’d been there. The hodgepodge kitchen was still organized chaos, games were piled on the coffee table were ready to be played, and the wooden table was set for four. While most would be thrilled by the fact that the cabin had remained untouched, Hannah couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Nothing out of place meant no Jules.

Hannah sighed as she moved past the clutter and to the room she used to share with her sister. Unlike Hannah’s bed that was bare, Jules’ bed was still made and topped with her colorful, green quilt. Her mom had always put away the bedding before they left. Hannah could only guess that she too had hoped Jules would come back.

She tossed her backpack onto the bed and walked over to Jules’ bedside. Beside the lamp on her bedside table was a book; the last book Jules had been reading before she went missing. Any normal person would have looked right past it, but reading had been Jules’ favorite thing to do, and Hannah nearly lost it. The book was a classic murder mystery, one that Jules had probably read one hundred times. Hannah had never shared Jules’ love of reading, but she grabbed the book anyway and headed off towards the pier.

The walk to the pier was short, the unofficial path worn by years of unauthorized use. Tall trees left long shadows across the leaf-littered ground. Yet, the wall of trees let little to be concealed and the expansive lake was visible after just two minutes of walking. Hannah had spent so many years coming to this cabin and making memories, but even that wouldn’t bring a smile to her face.

As she sat down by the end of the pier and looked out across the smooth water, she felt uneasy. The normally boisterous noise on the lake was more of a dull whisper, but Hannah supposed that could be expected during the fall season. Instead of wasting energy thinking too hard, she opened the book and started reading.

The book was pretty good. While she would spend the minimum amount of time reading anything else, Hannah found herself sitting there with the book open for hours. In fact, she didn’t even realize that the sun had started to go down and the wind had picked up.

When Hannah was about to find out if the main love interest had died, a light breeze wafted through carrying the words, “don’t drink.” Hannah jerked to attention. It had sounded like someone had whispered the words directly behind her. She looked around, but no one could be seen.

The breeze stirred up leaves near the tree line, and again she heard, “don’t drink.”

Wondering if she had actually lost it, Hannah closed her book and walked towards the trees. Now that dusk was setting, the picturesque woodland scene had taken on a darker, more eerie form. The trees became shadows, and the shadows became monsters. Or, it was the fact that she was reading a rather disturbing story about gruesome murders. Either way, Hannah was on edge.

A harsher breeze rattled the trees, and the voice flew further down the path repeating, “don’t drink.” Hannah felt as if she was a character in one of those cringy horror movies where the character struts toward the danger knowing that they shouldn’t, and yet, she took on that role without hesitation. It was like she couldn’t stay away, she had to figure out where this voice was coming from. She had a feeling it had the answers she was searching for.

All was silent except for the continuous crunching of leaves that echoed Hannah’s every footstep. The wind had been quiet for a few minutes, so she stopped again to listen, hoping for a sign. But instead of the whispering wind, a harsh long screech filled the silence with its jarring presence. Nearly falling backward, Hannah looked to the trees and saw the outline of a bird.

It screeched again, yelling at her to turn back. Hannah’s dad was especially knowledgeable about birds, so she was fairly certain this was a barn owl, but she didn’t have more than thirty seconds before it took flight and silently drifted away through the trees. If that wasn’t some nasty omen, Hannah didn’t know what was.

Hannah took a deep breath and attempted to compose herself as the wind picked up again, “don’t drink.” She looked ahead and saw a small clearing in the woods. The clearing looked like any other space that would hold a small cabin, which was odd considering Hannah had explored every inch of these woods and never noticed it before.

As she walked up to the cabin, it was clear that no one had been there for years. The roof sagged, some of the windows were shattered, and the porch was missing half its railing. Even so, Hannah marched forward. While the entire place gave off a ‘stay as far away as you can’ vibe, she had a feeling that this place held answers. And to match its creepiness, the door was ajar.

Hannah stepped inside and nearly started sneezing because of the thick coat of dust on literally everything. Everything was basically the same dreary gray color, but that might’ve been because of the pound of dust. The only furniture was an old card table with folding chairs and a cot in the corner of the room. Otherwise, there was nothing.

Everything was quiet for a few moments, but then the wind blew in through the door and straight down a door that Hannah assumed headed to the basement. Instead of its whisper, the wind seemed to howl, “don't drink.” While the words had been soft before, the tone seemed more urgent. But Hannah was never one to listen, so she crept towards the doorway and looked down into the semi-darkness.

Despite the setting sun, the basement seemed lighter than the upstairs. She creaked down the stairs and looked around. The basement itself was moist and Hannah could smell the mildew and rot that plagued the walls and floor. Similar to the upstairs, there was not much to be seen except for an empty bowl on the floor and a short chain attached to the wall. Hannah supposed whoever had lived here must have had a dog or something.

As she made the final step downstairs, she noticed a shelf underneath the staircase. On that shelf was a variety of trinkets that varied in age and decay. She saw small dolls, a pink watch, and a necklace. But what she saw on the top shelf nearly made her heart stop. It was a light green baseball hat. The same one that her sister had been wearing the day she disappeared.

“Don’t drink,” the voice continued to echo with urgency.

She grabbed the hat and held it close as tears filled her eyes. Then, the door slammed shut with a force that knocked Hannah off her feet. She wasn’t sure how she had missed it before then, but Hannah heard footsteps walking away from the basement door. Someone was home, and Hannah started to panic.

Hannah was alone in the dark, yet she moved quickly to the top of the stairs to bang on the door. She yelled, “Let me out!” for at least half an hour before retreating down to look for an alternative to escape.

She tried the windows, but there was nothing but dirt behind the glass, meaning she was underground. The walls of the basement were made out of the earth itself, so breaking those down was clearly not an option. After more than an hour of coming up with increasingly elaborate escape schemes, Hannah realized that her only way out was through that door. But she would need to wait until whoever was up there came down before she made her grand get-away.

Hannah sat down to wait, but she didn’t need to be quiet long before the basement door creaked open. A large body sneaked through the small opening and awkwardly clambered down the stairs with a candle in one hand and a plastic water bottle full of dark liquid in the other.

“You must be thirsty. Drink this,” he said in a raspy voice. The man held out the used plastic water bottle in his hands and offered it to Hannah. But when she didn’t immediately accept, he withdrew and stared at her knowingly.

“DON’T DRINK,” the voices screamed louder. It was hard to ignore the growing alarm that Hannah felt in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m not thirsty,” Hannah stated quickly, trying to keep her voice even.

The man simply looked at her with his expressionless, pock-marked face. “They always drink in the end,” he stated as he poured the liquid into the bowl on the floor.

More frantically, the voices circle around Hannah’s head. While the first voice sounded remarkably like Jules, she realized that there were dozens of voices of girls young and old. The voices were echoes that filled her thoughts and made it difficult to focus on the man as he walked slowly back up the stairs. When he reached the top, he closed the door behind him and turned the lock.

She picked up the candle and explored the room. More small tokens throughout the ages littered the floor. There were shoes of all sizes, a few mismatched gloves, purses, wallets, and most disturbingly, a teddy bear that was covered with dirt and missing both eyes.

As she sat in the dark and watched the candle burn down, Hannah didn’t know what was worse. She finally knew what had happened to her sister, but the twisting in her gut told her that she was about to face the same fate. The same fate as her sister and countless other women and girls.

Time was an enigma in the dark cellar, but it had been long enough for Hannah’s throat to feel dry, her lips to crack, and her tongue to feel like sandpaper. As she hugged her knees Hannah glanced over at the dark water in the bowl. The liquid was nearly black and even though there were only a few inches of water that filled the bowl, it was impossible to see the bottom. It sat undisturbed and looked like glass in the flickering of the candlelight.

Hannah’s thirst was unrelenting. Dying of dehydration was likely to be anything but pleasant, but the continuous echoing of voices in her head made her wary of the bowl of water on the floor.

Days passed, or at least it felt like days. There were no actual windows in the cellar, and no way to tell whether it was day or night. Hannah’s thirst alerted every cell in her body and made her head pound in a way she never knew possible. She looked longingly at the water yet again.

“Don’t drink. Don’t drink. Don’t drink.” The voices became whispers and bounced around her head. But the pounding of her headache almost drowned them out.

As if talking to the voices in her head, Hannah’s voice softly cracked, “One sip won’t hurt.”

“DON’T DRINK!” That voice—whether she had imagined it or not—was clearly Jules. But Hannah couldn’t hold off any longer. She crawled over to the bowl of ebony liquid and cupped her hands. She dipped her hands into the cool water and carefully brought the liquid to her cracked lips and drank.

The voices subsided and all was silent except for a ringing in her ears. Everything was calm for a moment, but then Hannah’s mouth began to feel warm. Soon the warmth turned into a ruthless burning that cascaded down her throat and into the pit of her stomach. She was burning from the inside out.

Hannah fell over to her side and hugged her legs close to her chest and anticipated the worst. Like a forest fire consuming everything in its path, the burning continued and spread into every fiber of her body. The pain was unlike anything Hannah had ever imagined, it was as though every cell was being stabbed and pulled apart at the same time.

Yet just as quickly as it had started, the pain subsided, and Hannah felt a wave of exhaustion. She couldn’t tell if her body had simply turned off the pain or if it was finally over, but she couldn’t find the energy to move. Or worse, she couldn’t move at all.

The door to the upstairs creaked open, and the man came down the stairs for a second time. Hannah’s vision became blurry, and she could barely keep her eyes open. Her breathing was shallow and labored, but she couldn’t give in just yet.

He crouched down, grabbed hold of Hannah’s chin, and slowly turned her face so that she was staring him dead in the eyes. His fingers were cold and callused, and Hannah could feel them roughly on her skin. Hannah didn’t break her gaze despite her body telling her to let go and slip away. Every breath was a battle now.

The man sighed and smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. He picked up his other hand and carefully smoothed out Hannah’s brown hair. For a few moments, he sat there stroking her hair and holding her chin.

“They always drink.” He stated without any emotion in his voice, and Hannah fell into the darkness.

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Thank you for reading!