Read Sweetly for Free Online

the hallway. I glance back at Ansel, who looks strangely large and out of place in the tiny room and as if he longs to go after Sophia—but he sits on the couch instead. I catch a hint of jealousy in his eyes as I walk away with her, and I can’t help but be pleased—Ansel is never jealous of me.
    “So that’s my room, if you need anything,” Sophia says, pointing to a large bedroom as we pass it—it’s darkened, but there’s just enough light to make out a pale blue coverlet on the bed and a large white wardrobe lurking in the corner. “And this is the spare room. Sorry the bed isn’t bigger,” she says, grimacing. “If it sucks too much, you can have mine. Though that mattress is a little older, so it’s kind of lumpy… God, I’m the worst host ever, aren’t I?” she mutters, blushing a little.
    “No, no. Trust me, I’ve been sleeping in motels or the car for the past few nights. This is great,” I answer. Actually, this is beautiful. The room is small and cool, with a steeply pitched ceiling and bead-board walls that have been painted pale yellow. There’s a twin bed with a pink floral quilt on top of it. The room itself is perfectly symmetrical—two open windows, two small alcoves (for desks, I presume), matching walls—the single bed and lavender-painted dresser are strange interruptions to the room’s reflection of itself.
    “Good,” Sophia says warmly. “I don’t really have company. No one ever uses this room.”
    We stand for a moment, unsure what to say to each other. I’m not sure why she looks concerned, but I’m totally unpracticed when it comes to people being this kind to me. I rock back on my heels, wishing I knew a way to thank her enough, wishing I could blatantly ask, “What’s your secret?” and figure out the key to being beautiful, confident, and certain, like she is.
    “Well… good night!” Sophia says with a grin and a shrug. I open my mouth to echo the sentiment a moment too late—she’s closed the door and I hear her moving down the hall, talking to Ansel about finding extra blankets and pillows for the couch.
    I turn to see the the white eyelet curtains stir; a sharp, warm breeze cuts through the room. I thought it was cool in here, but really it’s only in comparison to the sweltering heat outside. I step toward a window to tug it shut, pausing for a moment.
    The woods are thick and deep, and in the darkness they seem to sway like a single beast, back and forth, hiding, waiting.
    There it is—the fear, crawling up through me from somewhere deep in my chest. It’s darkly comforting and familiar, a friend I despise. I’ve never known myself without the fear—as much as I want it gone, I’m not even sure who I’d be if I woke up without it.
    I stare into the trees. They’re different from the forests in Washington: thinner trees packed tightly together, pine needles that make tinkling sounds as they fall onto the forest floor below. It has the same eeriness, though, the same depth that all forests have. It looks as if it could swallow me.
    The parade of pastors, policemen, and volunteers who came to the house used that phrase. They said the forest swallowed my sister up. They had a million questions, but the only answer I could give was that a yellow-eyed witch had stolen her, and that was never the answer they wanted. Ansel was more useful to them.
    “I don’t remember,” Ansel said, crying, which I’d seen him do only once or twice before. “I had both their hands, but we had to let go to run faster. I let go of whomever was on my left first, and then whomever was on my right, but I don’t know who was where or when she was gone…”
    One of us made it out of the forest, but even Ansel didn’t know who was truly missing for a heartbeat. He just knew one of his sisters was inside and one wasn’t.
    Half of me was there, and half wasn’t.
    Which means, how do I know I’m really the one who survived? What if I’m the one who disappeared? We were