Always Watching

tree, riddled with bullet holes.
    The fences had also come down, and the pens were overgrown with weeds and brush. I followed the path through the center of the commune, remembering how it all used to look, thinking that this was my history, good or bad. This place made me who I am today: I rarely eat meat, prefer organic food, soaps, and sundries from the health-food store, and I love jewelry and art inspired by nature. If Aaron and Joseph hadn’t been here, it would have been a heavenly place to grow up.
    I stopped in the center of the commune, where we’d eaten all of our meals at a long table. The cabins were built in a circle, radiating out like a fan from the fire pit, and the old sweat lodge, now gone. I slowly spun around, taking it all in. Then I closed my eyes, awakening my senses. I caught the scent of charcoal from old campfires and skunk cabbage on the breeze, remembered sitting around the fire with Robbie and the others, listening to Aaron sing and play the guitar.
    I thought of Willow, how great she was at encouraging everyone to join in, even Robbie, who hated to sing but had a strong, deep voice. He’d laugh and refuse, but he’d always give in eventually. Now that I thought about it, he spent a lot of time with Willow. He’d been friends with a few girls in the commune, and more than friends with a lot of them. But something about their relationship felt different. Robbie had been casual when I asked about her, like she was just one of the members, but now I wondered if they might’ve been closer than I realized. I made a note to ask Robbie if he knew anything about her background.
    I was about to leave when my gaze landed on the trail down to the river, now overgrown. I paused, thinking I should follow it and see if more blocked memories came back. Then, in the distance, I spotted the barn, and a jagged shard of a memory sliced into my psyche: Aaron, behind the barn in the woods on the left, digging into the ground. He turned to look at me, his face angry. Then the image stopped. What had he been burying? An animal? I tried to focus on the moment, using all my senses, but I just remembered feeling scared and anxious, like I wasn’t supposed to be there. Where had Robbie and my mom been, the other members? I got the feeling it had been hot out, and it was late at night—I was supposed to have been in bed. But I still couldn’t focus my mind’s eye on the ground, couldn’t see what he had there.
    My skin turned cold, my stomach full of dread, but I forced myself to walk over to the spot in the woods. I searched the ground, looking for any strange depressions or rises, but didn’t see anything more than a normal forest floor.
    I turned my attention back to the barn. It was in bad shape, one of the walls had collapsed, the roof nearly tumbling to the ground, ferns and trees growing up through the old stalls, every railing coated with damp green moss. The closer I got, the more my throat tightened. And by the time I reached it, my stomach was rolling with nausea.
    It’s just a barn, it can’t hurt you. You’re safe.
    It almost worked, but when I took that first step into the relic, keeping an eye on the ceiling to make sure it didn’t fall down, my heart felt like it had slammed up into my throat, and someone was gripping my chest tight, my breath coming in quick, short pants. For a moment I thought I might actually pass out as darkness closed in on me. I was hot all over and cold at the same time.
    In here, something happened in here.
    I turned and ran, getting halfway through the commune before I stopped myself, feeling like a fool. I looked back at the barn, my heart pounding and my breath still wheezing out of me. Stay calm, Nadine . It’s just a barn . But it wasn’t just a barn. Every cell in my body was telling me it was dangerous, that something could hurt me in there—something had hurt me.
    Not something. Someone.
    I closed my eyes, focusing on the rise and fall of my chest, channeling my energy, concentrating on the feel of the ground beneath my feet, the cold breeze against my face, trying to remember: What had happened?
    Then the hair on the back of my neck lifted, as though from an unseen hand, at the same time as a bird flew cackling up to the sky to my left.
    My eyes shot open, and I stared at the dark woods, my body rigid, blood roaring in my ears, wondering what had startled the bird. I began to slowly back up, keeping my eye on the spot, searching the thick