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Sign up for your $1 a month trial at Shopify.com slash setup. Okay. I've never told anyone this whole story, not my parents, not a teacher, nobody.

Me and Cody told bits and pieces to his older brother about a week after it happened,

and he just said we were being dramatic.

But I saw his face while we were talking.

He believed us. He just didn't want to.

This happened two falls ago. I was 15. I'm 17 now,

and I still don't drive down Parsons Hollow Road after dark. I still sleep with my window

locked even in July when my room is like 90 degrees. And I still look at certain people in town,

at the gas station, at the grocery store, and wonder, but I'm getting

ahead of myself. Me and Cody used to hike almost every weekend, not like normal hiking, not the

tourist stuff with the boardwalks and the signs that say keep on trail and the little map pamphlets.

We'd go off trail, deep into the parts of the smokies, and the surrounding forest land where

you don't see anyone for hours.

We knew it was probably stupid.

We didn't care.

When you grow up in a small town pressed right up against the park boundary and miles

of woods, the forest starts to feel like your backyard.

You stop thinking about it as something that can hurt you.

That was the first mistake.

It was a Saturday in late October.

...