"Hey, Jeanette?" Mort's voice called from downstairs.
"Yeah?" Jeanette asked.
"You wanna go out for a hike?"
"A hike?"
"Yeah, through the woods. You used to love going out for walks. Or how about a swim in the lake? Or just a walk through the town?"
"Not now, Uncle Mort. If I want to go out, I'll go later and I'll do it on my own."
"Sorry. I was just asking."
Jeanette walked back down the stairs to the living room; her uncle was standing at the bottom of the stairs.
"I didn't mean to snap." Jeanette said. "I'm just a little pissed about this whole situation."
"I get it… Wanna talk about it?" Mort asked.
"No. At least not now."
"Okay. But if you wanna talk, you can always come to me."
"Thanks."
That night after dinner, Jeanette got herself ready for bed. She put on her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and went down to the foldout bed that was set up in the living room.
"Jeanette?" Mort asked before he headed up the stairs.
"Yeah?" The girl asked, laying down in the bed.
"Are you sure you're okay? You can still talk it over with me if you want."
"Ugh, I said I'm fine. Can you just drop it already? I just wanna go to bed."
"Okay, fine… And Jeanette?"
"What?"
"…Goodnight."
"Night."
That night, Jeanette had a fitful sleep. The images of Logan and Sydney kept flashing through her mind, refusing to go away. The last thing she saw before snapping awake was Logan screaming "EAVESDROPPING SLUT!" into her face. She woke with a start in a cold sweat, her heart pounding and breathing heavily.
Jeanette looked around the dark room, remembering that she wasn't in her own bed at home; she heaved an exasperated sigh before getting up and going to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
'Oh, shit…' She said to herself, taking a gulp of water from her cup.
She checked her watch and saw that it was exactly 1:00 in the morning; she couldn't go back to sleep. She set her glass down, grabbed her sweatshirt, a pair of sneakers, and a flashlight; she planned on going out for a walk, hoping that would help clear her mind. With her flashlight in hand, she zipped up her sweatshirt, quietly snuck out the door, and started to walk through the woods. It was a fairly warm night and there were lots of mosquitoes, but she felt she could care less.
Somewhere along the forest path, she found a large tree branch and she decided to use it as a walking stick. She walked and walked until she heard a twig snap from behind her; she turned around and shined the flashlight to where she thought the sound was, but no one was there. Jeanette paused for a minute, then continued to walk until she came across a clearing near the road. There was a gray car parked on the path and leaning against it was a man she didn't recognize at all; he was tall and wore casual clothes complete with a stupid-looking black hat. He had a rock on his hand.
"Howdy there, lil' missy." The man said in a thick Southern accent. Jeanette said nothing and took a step back. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
She rolled her eyes and turned around to go back, but the man stopped her.
"Now hold on there, I mean ya no harm. I just wanna talk." He said.
"…About what?" Jeanette asked, turning back around and approaching the man. "Who are you anyway?"
"I figured you'd ask that."
"Isn't that the whole point? A young girl walking around the forest in the middle of the night comes across a mysterious stranger? She'd want to know who she's dealing with, wouldn't you agree?"
"I suppose so. That's why I came all the way up here from Mississippi."
"Mississippi, huh?"
"That's right. People call me John Shooter… And can I call you just Jeanette or Miss Rainey?"
Jeanette suddenly froze.
"How-how did you…?"
"I know lots of things, especially about your uncle Mort."
"You know my uncle?"
"I do indeed."
"Are you neighbors or college friends or-or what?"
"I know him, nothing more. Let's just leave it at that. What in the world are you doin' out in the woods so late?"
"Just going for a late walk. What about you?"
Shooter didn't answer; he just reached into his coat pocket which made Jeanette flinch and take a step back.
"Hold on, I'm just gettin' my smokes." He said, holding out a cigarette pack with only one cigarette left inside; he offered it to her, but she pushed it away in disgust.
"I don't smoke." She said as she saw him take out the cigarette and light it.
"Don't you know that your uncle is a filthy plagiarist?" Shooter asked.
"What?"
"You heard me; your uncle stole my story."
"No he didn't."
"Ask him yourself if you don't believe me."
"Of course I don't believe a fucking word you say. You're accusing my uncle of doing something he would never do."
"If your uncle really is the good man you think he is, go ask him yourself."
"I don't have to do anything you say. In fact, I don't even have to listen to you. I'm going back to bed."
Jeanette quickly turned on her heels and headed back down the path where she came.
"Ask him; he'll tell you the whole truth, whether you like it or not." Shooter said before he threw the rock in his hand; luckily, it narrowly missed her feet.
"Fuck off, you creep." She muttered.
