Disclaimer: Characters owned by Scholastic.

This next chapter focuses on the time before the trip to Horrorland, mainly, the after effects of that camping trip.

I apologize if this is a little confusing. It's just I wanted to make it clear that Ginger is confused and scared. Her home situation has become horrible and everybody is having an extremely difficult time because of the guilt and trauma they've suffered, with Ginger in the middle of it all.

That was a month ago. And no, things didn't get better for my family.

The ambulance arrived at the park and drove us to the hospital. On the way, the paramedics insisted on having mine and my brothers' stomachs pumped to make sure we didn't accidentally eat something toxic in the woods. I couldn't even begin to tell you how much that sucked. The doctors at the hospital ran a bunch of tests and determined, as best they could, we hadn't come in contact with anything that would've made us see or hear things that weren't real. The thought did not sooth my parents.

I thought if we went home we could just put all of this behind us and pretend it never happened. I was wrong.

Mom and Dad now blamed themselves for what happened, since the camping trip was their idea in the first place. The moment we got home, dad got rid of our camping gear. No, that's not right. He destroyed it. He said our family was never going on another camping trip ever again.

That first night home, Dad set up a bonfire in our backyard one and just threw everything, the tent, poles, backpacks, even our hiking boots, all of it, on top of the pyre. I, unfortunately, saw the whole thing. Dad kept adding fuel to make sure the fire burned it all, and Mom kept begging him to put it out before the blaze spread to the house. He just ignored her. The thing is Dad didn't seem upset or frantic. He was just so… calm. Like he was in a world all his own. Which I guess is why he didn't notice our neighbors coming out of their homes to see what was going on. Some were spying on us from their windows while others smelled the smoke or heard the fire so they assumed something was wrong. Someone even called the fire department. Mom and I were so embarrassed. Dad kept them from making sure they didn't interfere until he was sure everything was gone. When the chief fireman finally got his way and had the flames doused, Dad was pleased all that remained was just a black heap of unidentifiable garbage.

One of the worst things about being back was the boredom that set in. I'd already completed my summer homework before the trip. So did Nat and Pat. We were told the trip would be cancelled if we hadn't done all our assignments before we left. So now Mom and Dad couldn't even nag us about it. All of my friends were off on vacations of their own. I had no one to talk to, and believe me, I really wish I had. Because no one at home wanted to talk to me.

I kept thinking about the Beasts, and about how I opened my big mouth just as we had gotten away. I wondered, could they find us? Were they looking for me and my brothers now? I no longer had nightmares about bloodthirsty bears, but secretly I prayed and hoped I would. ANYTHING to not dream about the Beasts.

My absolute worst nightmare was the one where the Beasts caught all of us… but let ME live. I said "live" not "go free" because then they would make me watch as they devoured my whole family. Devoured alive and screaming for help while I couldn't do anything. I had that dream only once, and I remember it just as vividly as I remember that day.

Soon my family issues began to overshadow my fear of the Beasts. Mom and Dad seemed to be trying to make up for the trip, even though none of us really blamed them for anything. Suddenly, we had no more chores. Our monthly allowances became our weekly allowances. We were always going out for dinner, or to see movies, or go shopping (and even with our allowance increase they offered to pay for everything). Only with the way everybody felt, these attempts fell flat on their faces.

In spite of our increase in family quality time, no one was really talking with anyone. The trip was never brought up, and if someone did mention it Mom or Dad would tell them to be quiet or drown them out as loudly as possible. Dad was becoming distant, and Mom was smothering. I think their frequent attempts to make us happy were more an attempt to convince their selves everything was okay. I think it was my fault. I kept thinking about the way I yelled at them back at the ranger's station, and looking back I felt disgusted with myself over how much grief I gave them.

Dad, I don't think he really understood just how badly we were doing, or he did but just didn't understand how he could help. He talked to us, but mostly just asking if we were okay or if we wanted anything while we were out. There was a moment, though, when I thought he might want to talk to me.

I was in the kitchen pouring myself a glass of orange juice when he came in.

"Did you finish the rest of the juice?"

I almost choked when I heard Dad speak. I turned around and saw him standing in the doorway.

"Um," I cleared my throat, "Y-yeah. I did."

"Oh." Dad answered.

"I'm sorry, did you want any?" I asked. "You can have the rest of mine."

"No no, that's okay. Now I know to get more the next time we go to the store."

"Good."

I think it was the awkwardest conversation with my Dad I've ever had, but at least we were actually talking. Well, we were before. Now we were just staring at each other.

Say something, I thought. Say something you idiot he finally wants to talk SAY SOMETHING!

He turned around and was about to leave before I opened my mouth.

"Dad?" I asked.

"Yeah?"

"Is… is there anything you want to talk about?" I finally got the words out.

He stared at me for a moment, and I swear I felt my heart stop when he began to speak again.

"No, no." He said. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Oh."

He mumbled something and left the room. I drank some more juice, but it suddenly tasted very bitter. I dumped it in the sink.

At least Dad hadn't become a mess like Mom did. She was trying so hard to make everybody happy when she wasn't locking herself in her bedroom and crying. One night we were all in the living room watching TV. Well, some of us were. Nat and Pat were huddled together on the love seat, not saying or doing anything. Mom forced them to join us. I was wedged between Mom and Dad. Mom wanted us to stay in tonight. Dad was flipping through the channels trying to find something we could all enjoy. He handed Mom the remote when he got up to use the bathroom. She searched a little more slowly, and reached an all day news channel when-

"It's been three months since the disappearance of famous author Richard Clarke and his children, and with no other leads to follow the authorities have officially declared the family deceased."

"Mom change the chan-" I begged but she shushed me and turned up the volume. Mom held the remote in a death grip.

"Clarke, his son Justin and daughter Marissa were last reported backpacking through the forests of Brovania researching local folklore for a new book. Clarke's ex-wife alerted the Brovanian authorities to the situation when she lost contact with-"

I got up and shut the TV off, figuring it would be pointless to try and fight her for the remote. But it was too late.

"Mom-" I tried to say, but the tears were already falling.

"I'm sorry, Ginger." She whispered, and ran out of the room. Dad returned a moment later, asked where Mom went, and I said she went to bed. Neither of us noticed Nat and Pat had already left.

Nat and Pat…

It was horrible. Depressing. More than Mom and Dad. They became so quiet and broody, completely unlike them. I could probably count on one hand the number of times I've heard them speak since we came home.

"Nat, you wanna go to the park with me today? You can try climbing that old maple tree again." I asked him one morning after breakfast. "Who knows, you might actually do it this time."

I was trying to tease him yes, but I didn't mean in a bad way. Nat used to love climbing tress. I thought he might like it if we went together. But after I finished speaking, he looked so insulted. He looked as if someone had just slapped him in the face. He ran out of the kitchen without saying a word to me.

Pat was acting the same way.

"Pat?" I found him in the living room, staring at the TV. "What are you watching?"

He didn't even look up at me.

"Pat the TV's not even on."

Nothing.

"Um, here." I handed him his Nintendo DS, his most prized possession. "I've been meaning to give this back to you. You almost left it in the ambulance."

Pat always has his face buried in some video game. I mean, he used to. I'd noticed the consoles in the living room had started accumulating a layer of dust. I hadn't gone near them because Pat tends to be a little… territorial when it comes to his video games. I was still reeling a little from the joy of having my insides pumped, so the shock of realizing Pat had left behind his DS didn't set in until much later.

Maybe I should've just left Pat alone, but I hated seeing him like this.

"Come on Pat, weren't you stuck trying to get through that really hard level in Super Mario 64 DS?" I waved the DS enticingly in front of my brother. "Bet you still can't get throu-"

That was when Pat smacked the DS out of my hands. The thing was thrown into the hallway, where it hit the floor with a loud crash.

Mom and Dad came running into the living room.

"What was that noise?"

"What happened?"

"Are you alright?"

"Ginger? Pat?"

"Pat? Pat where's your brother?"

"Honey-"

"Where is he?!"

I looked up at Mom and Dad. They were looking at me. Well Mom was darting from me to Pat every few seconds. Pat said nothing. Nat wandered into the room and began staring at me next to Mom and Dad.

I felt my lip trembling.

The next thing I knew, I ran for the front door.

"Ginger!" Mom and Dad called after me, but I ignored them.

I ran and ran for what felt like an eternity. I faintly heard my dad calling after me to come back.

Oh so now he wants to talk to me?!

Everything was a blur. I distinctly recalled bumping into people as I ran, and at one point I heard the screeching of brakes and a man angrily screaming at me, but I didn't care. I kept running even when I felt a hot pain in my side. I didn't stop until I tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and almost collided headfirst into a brick wall. I shot my hands up in time to stop myself.

Panting and breathing very hard, I looked up. I ran all the way to my middle school, which was closed for renovations before the new school year began. Still trying to catch my breath, I leaned against the brick wall.

I looked at my hands and saw that I'd scraped them on the wall as I caught myself. I wasn't bleeding, but I think the last thing I needed to see was the colored blotches that remained on my palm. They never faded, no matter how hard I tried to scrub them off. I would always have this single, physical reminder I realized.

I finally started to cry.

I didn't care at the moment if anyone saw me. I kept this in for too long, ever since that day in the woods. Only now there was so much more.

My brothers and I had almost been killed by monsters in the woods, but we survived and returned to a home filled with guilt and fear. I know that sounds stupid but I don't know how else to say it.

The Beasts. My parents. My brothers. All of it in my head. I thought I was going to vomit. I clutched my stomach. Everything was connected but at the same time it was all so badly mixed up inside my mind it felt like they were all like, like, I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT! I'm sorry I just didn't!

I didn't know what to do. What was I supposed to do except cry? I'm just a kid, I don't know! What am I supposed to do in situations like this?! I can't do anything!

I sobbed and sank to the ground on my knees. I banged my fists on the wall until my hand hurt. Everything was awful. I hated everyone and I hated myself. Should I have screamed at my parents? Should I have run just now? Who could I talk to? It was clear no one at home wanted to speak to me, so I thought if I tried to talk they wouldn't listen. No one except my family knows about the Beasts so if I tried talking to anyone else they'd think I was crazy. But it's not like there was anyone I could talk to about this anyway. Where could I go? I didn't want to go back home and face them again.

Nat's unhappy, Pat's unhappy, Mom and Dad are unhappy, I'M unhappy. Why couldn't anyone notice that I wanted to talk about how I felt inside instead of keeping it in?

I was alone, and scared like I'd been in the woods, only this time I was alone and scared and surrounded by people who were making me feel worse even though they didn't mean to. That made it more unbearable in a way. Does any of that make sense? I'm sorry.

No one in my family could help me, and I couldn't help them.

I wish I had a place to go to where none of this could follow me.

I guess that's why it seemed, at first, like such a relief when the letter from HorrorLand came.