Into The Peaks

By Ryan Lill-Washington

The car speeds up, heading through the tall pines that line the winding road. I feel the vibrations of the music rattling up the door. I turn to face him, and he smiles at me-

"-Iz

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ryan Lill-Washington
• Release date: Mar 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9781088260623

Ryan Lill-Washington

A true born-and-bred Queer Southerner, Charleston, SC native Ryan Lill is an artist whose star has only continued to rise. In addition to being a featured MTV Artist, Lill has performed alongside chart-topping artists like Meghan Trainor and Todrick Hall. With years of touring and live performances under his belt, Ryan has spoken openly about his experience and loyalty-ties to the LGBTQIA+ community. As an advocate for gender expression and visibility among the queer community, Ryan has become more than just a local sensation. Lill has also made a name for himself across the media world, with his hit single "Adore Me," and his new EP "Makeup" hitting top 40 radio. With multiple comedy videos gaining the attention of Genius and The Huffington Post, paired with his quick-live songwriting skills, it seems there isn't much Lill can't do. With a vibrant personality, a unique style, and a sense of self that attracts far beyond your average listener, Ryan is taking the world by storm, using humor, activism, music, and expression to create change. Lill's Southern charm and tongue-in-cheek attitude, alongside his relatability have earned him a loyal fanbase. His songwriting and musical stylings cut to the core with each track, and now, he's taken fiction writing by surprise with his second novel "Into The Pines."

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Into The Peaks

Ryan Lill-Washington

Copyright © 2024 by Ryan Lill-Washington

All rights reserved.

Editing and Revisions by Sarah Droze & Anna Imler

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Blurbs

Into the Peaks is the absolute definition of a page-turner! With every finished chapter, I was eager to devour the next. Ryan Lill-Washington's latest novel will keep you on the edge of your seat the whole way through and out of the woods for years to come!

-Ash Kell, Cohost of Morbid Podcast

B,

The world is a tolerable place because you exist. You're the worst and best thing that has ever happened to me. I'm lucky enough to have watched you grow into the grumpy old bag of bones you are, but unlucky enough to know that you can't live forever. You've been the most constant thing in my life, and you've tolerated all of my bullshit for more years than anyone else combined. You're the biggest personality in any room you're ever in, and I'd like to volunteer as tribute to sacrifice myself to Satan himself to let you live forever. Anyway, enough of that. You're lying on the couch beside me, snoring louder than any man I've ever slept next to. You kind of smell like Fritos, and I'm almost positive you've farted ten times in the last hour. You bark at nothing, you chew on headphones, you rip trash apart, and you don't listen all that well, but I'm obsessed with you.

You ate an entire can of Ajax once, and when I called 911, the nice lady on the phone asked me if you were still conscious… thinking that you were a literal child. I've never been more terrified in my entire life, but I'm happy to report that 10 years later you're still functioning properly. You've swallowed screws, eaten full loaves of bread, and have swallowed no less than 8 pair of socks. So, if you haven't died yet, I'd like to take it as a sign that you're basically a vampire.

Thank you for existing, and thank you for never judging me while Swiffer-ing nude to Top 40 Radio. I know you'll never read this, but do you wanna go to Wendy's and get a junior bacon cheeseburger? I know the vet said That's probably not the best for you, but she wears tacky shoes and doesn't watch RuPaul's Drag Race, so she can't be trusted either way.

I love you,

Dad.

Chapter one

Izzy

The car speeds up, heading through the tall pines that line the winding road. I feel the vibrations of the music rattling up the door. I turn to face him, and he smiles at me.

I sit up quickly, my chest rising, a scream building from within me. The room is spinning, turning sideways as I try to find my balance. I reach my arm out, feeling soft velvet instead of leather. Before the scream had a chance to escape my throat, I saw her. I was safe for the moment; I knew it now, the last few years had slowly crept back into my head.

She sat before me, clipboard glued to her lap, like always, while her glasses pressed forward over the noticeably large bridge of her nose. She sat quietly for a moment, watching me try to calm myself down. I closed my eyes and mentally repeated the words I had been chanting for the last five years.

Five years. Five long, debilitating years of trying to wrap my head around what happened out there. She finally spoke.

Izzy, what are you feeling right now? Her voice was steady, as usual. Where did you go this time?

I opened my eyes and blinked in her direction a few times before responding.

I was in the woods again… My hands rubbed up and down on either side of my upper arms, wiping away the phantom chill. ...in the Pines. My legs shook, echoing the memory of the loud music playing throughout the shack.

What have we said about it? Use your words, Izzy. It’s alright to say them out loud.

I nodded at her. It was embarrassing to know just how frequently I had been saying these words for the last five years. Every hour of every day…both in and out of sessions…it was my only takeaway from her guidance.

I’m safe, I’m alive, I’m strong, I survived, I whispered.

But I knew that wasn’t completely true. I wasn’t safe.

Again. She was like a predator waiting for its prey, always able to tell when I felt weak.

I repeated it, begging my voice to sound stronger with each word.

"You are safe, Izzy. I know this has been hard and tomorrow is going to be a very triggering day for you."

I closed my eyes again, feeling my fingers tighten around the curves of my upper arms.

You don’t have to be afraid of it, it's just another day.

I shook my head. It wasn’t just another day–not to me. It was that day. The day. Tomorrow marked the fifth anniversary of the day I made it out of the Pines. I shook the idea out of my head as quickly as it entered.

I know, I lied.

After all of this time, the sadness from Eyvette had turned into fear, and she knew it. Doctor Harper Shayne was the only person I trusted after all of this time. She had listened over the years to every small detail of my time within the Pines and had somehow managed to never push me into discussing things I wasn’t prepared to talk about. She didn’t show any kind of judgment towards me, and I appreciated that. After all the chaos that surrounded my life, she became the one person I would see.

After I was found, I was rushed to the hospital. Every doctor said that not only was I dehydrated, but that my wounds were infected from the dirt and debris I picked up during my escape. The bottoms of my feet required extra care, for several weeks, due to the small amount of skin remaining after all my running.

I pleaded with the police to find Yvee after every round of questioning from my hospital bed. Their answer was always the same, especially after retelling the things done to her...there was no way she could have survived. But that wasn't good enough. I didn't care how many times they tried to explain it. Every time, I refused to accept that answer. I wanted her back. I needed her back.

The guilt I felt for leaving her behind had only grown worse during my time in the hospital. One particular thought haunted me as the machines hooked up to me continued their incessant beeping: Why had I given up on her so easily?

My declining mental state was also what pushed my medical team to place me on a psychiatric hold for the remainder of my hospital stay. I remember feeling panicked, like I was being taken all over again. But, at the time, I wasn’t in the right state of mind to explain or express that feeling so I attacked Penelope.

That alone became the reason for my court-mandated year of therapy. It had taken me months of sitting in complete silence, her blue office a quiet and calm place to stare into oblivion. I didn’t want to speak to anyone back then, but especially not to some shrink.

She sat there, clipboard and pen resting on her thighs and soft music playing in the background. Things stayed like that for a week before I spoke. This meant, for an entire week, I was forced to listen to whatever hellish elevator music she insisted on playing.

Could you please turn that shit off?

Doctor Shayne looked up from the book she was reading and smirked.

Sure thing. I was wondering when you were going to ask. Her smirk grew into a full smile and I could feel my lips start to mirror the action. It’s a little trick I use to get some people to speak to me. She let out a small laugh and picked her book back up.

A beat of silence passed before curiosity got the better of me.

What are you reading? I was almost angry at myself for opening up a line of conversation with her. My original mission was to come, sit in silence, and rack up my time.

She looked up from the book again, but this time set it on her desk before turning her chair toward me.

It’s just some true crime book about a man with schizophrenia.

I think she could tell that it piqued my interest. I adjusted myself on the edge of the long, velvet couch and raised my eyebrows. She smiled before beginning her version of the book's synopsis.

"Well–spoiler alert– this guy thinks he’s being framed by a serial killer, who he ends up being his sister, but, it’s actually him because he doesn’t have a sister!"

My eyebrows turned down toward my nose as the synopsis fully registered in my brain. That action was the moment Doctor Shayne seemed to realize just how insane it sounded and let out a laugh.

It sounds like a hell of a movie idea… I finally said.

You think so? I’ll have to take your word for it I guess.

Her words hit me almost like an insult, but I knew that wasn’t at all how she had meant it. I tried to force that attacked feeling away and leaned back into the cushion behind me.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, she apologized softly.

It’s alright, I sighed and readjusted myself on the couch. That’s just not who I am anymore.

Do you think you would ever go back to acting?

No, I don’t think so.

A quiet, nasally ‘mmm’ sounded behind her pursed lips before silence passed between us for the rest of the session.

My career, which was almost non-existent now, had exploded the moment I made it out of the woods. Once journalists caught wind of my survival, my face was plastered on the cover of magazines, newspapers, and online articles across the world. All anyone knew was that I survived a serial killer that had, so far, not been found. While there were rumors, theories detectives told, and a few made-for-television dramatizations of what happened to me, nobody knew every detail.

Nobody except for me.

That very reason sent interviewers and television hosts into a frenzy. They circled around me like vultures, hoping to lure me in with promises of all the fame and money in the world in exchange for my story.

Penelope swooped in like a moth to a flame. She stood in my hospital room for less than 30 seconds, explaining all the beautiful things this could do for me…next she knew, I was ripping free from the IVs and wires and lunging for her.

I blamed her for everything. Especially for enticing Yvee into some career-changing mission despite knowing how unsafe it was. It took over a year to realize Penelope was just doing what she was paid to do and that Yvee, ultimately, made the decision herself.

I never apologized to her, nor did I plan to. Ever. I didn’t blame her anymore, but the idea of her still made me sick to my stomach.

Penelope had been a bridge that could connect me to my old world, but I had drenched it in gasoline and set it ablaze without hesitation. And I would do it again.

The television series I landed and filmed when Yvee left for South Carolina aired 6 months after my escape. It rocketed to the top of every streaming service for all the wrong reasons. People flocked to watch it, thinking they would see some version of a final girl, which everyone now considered me to be.

Directors and writers came directly to me for parts in their films and shows, begging me to take a role. But I was done with acting. I hadn’t taken an acting job in over five years and was a shell of the human being I used to be. All of the joy I used to get from seeing my face in magazines was replaced with embarrassment and guilt. Those feelings made it easier to pull myself out of the world of people, and dive headfirst into the world of those who didn’t leave their apartment.

Almost two years passed before news stations moved to bigger and better stories. At that time, I hired a company to quietly move me into an apartment above a local coffee shop in downtown Charleston. The historic city was located close enough to Travelers Rest without being too close. Here, I could feel close to Eyvette, despite closing myself in from the outside world, but far enough away from being constantly haunted by memories.

The small amount of peace I had begun to feel was ripped away from me when another girl went missing just outside of Traveler’s Rest on the third anniversary of my return, sending my name back into the headlines.

Then, last year, another girl was reported missing near the same trail, causing another uproar in my story.

Now, cameras flashed when I stepped outside. People would surround me, scream questions, and ask what was next for me. They wanted to know who took the girls and where they could be. They always asked if I was afraid. That question made me want to scream. Course I was. Everything scared me–hell, my own shadow frightened me. I couldn’t sleep. I barely ate. Then, if I had to leave my apartment, it took me days to work up the courage to unlock my front door.

It didn’t matter how many people told me I was safe, which included Doctor Shayne. I knew that wasn’t the truth. I’d close my eyes again and see him smiling, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. He knew who I was when he found me, and I knew he had no intentions of taking me to safety.

It was kill or be killed.

He had left me no choice.

No one knew what I had done.

Not a soul.

Izzy, you’re going to be alright tomorrow. It's just another day, remember that, Doctor Shayne gently reminded me while I gathered my things.

And the other girls? Will they be okay?

She pursed her lips and inhaled deeply before responding to me.

I will keep saying this until it sinks in for you, she begins, softly yet sternly. "You are not responsible for these girls going missing. The police have told you, they haven’t found any connection linking them to your case."

I shake my head and look down.

They were taken from near the same place, nothing left behind at all. Don’t you think that’s a connection? How about the fact that they were taken near the anniversary of when I was found–

"–missing, Izzy, not taken. These women were reported missing from different trails all across states. These women could have been missing for days or even weeks before they were reported to the authorities. I truly think it’s just a bizarre coincidence that it fell near the same date. Think about it, it’s not just women. I mean, they never did find that young Sheriff either, the poor guy."

A shiver runs down my spine at the mention of him. I couldn’t help myself. I shot her a look that let her know that was not at all what I believed.

Listen, it’s a wonderful time of year to be outside, especially people who are camping and hiking, so you just don’t know, she says.

Sure…

She doesn’t know what I do. No one else knows what really happened in the Pines.

I stand up, pull my bag over my shoulder, and walk toward the door.

Thank you.

She nods in approval and I open the door.

Chapter two

Girl in The Peaks

Her feet slipped backward and, with a curse, her knees slammed against the uneven stone while the rain continued to pour. The path had changed almost instantly, going from muddy to slick stone. After regaining her