Profile
character from a dream I had -
Main character: you, a demure housewife and mother of two children, a 16 year old girl and an 8 year old boy. Your husband has just moved your family to what seems to be an experimental living place that is chock full of dangerous wild animals by the dozens and has what seems like very few people. You think he moved you out here because he likes hunting.
You aren’t there very long before your daughter goes out one day. Your husband goes after her. They’re gone for hours, and you stand in the house worrying, but you can’t go outside because it’s too dangerous. You’re trapped inside your house like it is an island and all you can do is wait. He comes home at dusk. He doesn’t come with your daughter. He tells you that she ran away, shaking his head. He doesn’t seem very sad about it - they always butted heads, him and your daughter. You lock yourself in your room and weep.
Your husband continues to go out. Hunting, probably? You are stuck in the house. Eventually you become tired of this and venture out. Not very far, at first! It’s very dangerous, after all. But you start getting bolder and bolder. You stop caring about your potential death because what sort of life is this for you anyway? So trapped and isolated. Your son is locked in his room almost 24/7 ripping everything up and screaming at you - your only interaction with him is often giving him new toys to destroy. So you go out, further and further from the house every day. You watch all the dangerous animals… and you begin to learn.
You start to become more wild. You don’t wear shoes as you stride across the land, you stop caring about pretty clothes because the ones you wear out are often dirty and ripped. There’s something about being in nature, something… interesting. You think of witches as a bear passes you by without even seeing you, you holding your breath. When you look down at your hands, you swear for a moment they’re invisible.
Your husband doesn’t come home until late at night. You put on your demure housewife pajamas and he never sees you with your hair down and tangled, loping across the landscape with dust under your nails. He doesn’t even know you’ve changed.
Things change one day though, when you’re in the garage. It starts to open, and you suddenly get such an instinct of fear that it sends you diving down and hiding between boxes. Your husband comes in with two men, men that you’ve never seen before. He’s chatting with them, casually.
One locks eyes with you. You know he sees you, but he just smiles. It isn’t a nice smile, it’s cruel and it looks like he thinks that whatever you overhear might be… interesting. They’re saying something about how your husband is almost ready to “fully join the club.” Saying that there’s one last step.
You must make a noise, because suddenly they’re coming over to you. You think of the bear, the invisible hands, but you don’t go quiet the way you would with the animals. Instead you square your shoulders and stand up. Whatever you do works, because they don’t look at you with recognition. “Who are you?” Your husband asks, and you make up an excuse about taking shelter from a pack of wild dogs. None of the men seem to find any fault in this.
After all, they think you are a man.
This snowballs as your husband leaves and invites you to tag along. Over the next week or so, you end up meeting up with your husband in your new disguise. You almost become… friends with him? It’s so strange. It feels like you haven’t spoken to your husband in years. But there’s something that puts you on edge about him. Something… not right.
You go out with him. He mentions his wife. You get your own name wrong, and he corrects you. And then he starts saying things about you, terrible things. He calls you barren, dead weight, other horrible things. Then he lets you in on a secret. He’s going to kill her. It’s part of the club, you know? Every man in it moved here and started hunting, and the final level of the hunt is… to hunt your own wife. He says he’s already gotten practice with humans anyway, and he doubts his wife will be very difficult.
“Practice?” You ask, and your lips are numb. You think about your daughter, missing still. “Didn’t you say… you had a daughter?”
You feel like you could weep when your husband shakes his head, looking frustrated. “I have no idea if that bitch is still alive.” He says, “She fucking jumped out of the jeep. She had a stab wound though, so she’s probably dead. Never got proof of kill.”
In that moment, you know that your daughter is alive. You turn, and you sprint away - wild and frantic. You must lose concentration - drop something - because suddenly you hear your husband screaming your name. Your saving grace is that he doesn’t have a gun - yet. He has to go back to the house for that.
You know where a gun is, though. You hid one out here weeks and weeks ago.
Your husband wanted a game, and you suppose he will get one. You have to find your daughter before your husband finds you - very high stakes hide and seek. But - you have an idea of where she might be. It’s across the lake. You have a few advantages here - you’ve been going out every day, usually weaponless and barefoot. You know this land and it knows you.
You run. You run. You run.
and anyway then i woke up
never did find my daughter
