It's not that deep

He went missing on a random Monday. His room remained the same, not even a speck of dust passing through, signed football jerseys decorating the walls, computer open on the last assignment he was deciding on, either copying from his friend or generating from the internet. Family pictures were banned from these walls; instead, they sat on the mantle above the TV. If his mother looked under the mattress, she would find letters and pictures from his girlfriend, hidden away from the light beaming out of the window. 

She was nowhere to be found around the same time. Her desk sat cluttered with a mixture of her Apple ecosystem and Polaroid pictures, fairy lights drooping on the floor from where they once sat tall on the walls. Dried-out mascara was tucked carefully away in the shelves, masquerading as a makeshift vanity, accompanying an array of blushes. She couldn’t decide which one matched her complexion more, but it truly didn’t matter because it faded away in a matter of minutes each time regardless. 

Nobody bothered putting “Have You Seen Me?” posters up. What was the point? He always went out on reckless drives when his temper was frayed at the edges, and she always smoked a cigarette out her window when she was stressed. Besides, he would tackle anyone to the ground who dared to put his height on a piece of paper declaring he was nowhere to be found. Everyone knew that, and not a singular soul was worried. He was always flirting with other girls at parties anyway, twirling their hair in his fingers. “The alc makes me fucking crazy bro” he would text the group chat every morning. 

She was always stoic in these scenarios, and it fueled the gossip like no other. Was she heartless? Did she secretly cry in the bathroom, or was she hooking up in there? As payback? Eh, it wouldn’t matter in a matter of hours when everyone sat together on the couch, playing Never Have I Ever with shots. They would pretend that when she confessed she was a virgin, it was the most scandalous news to grace the Earth, thumbs pressing away frantically on keyboards the moment they found out, as if it were their mission to spread this message. 

In truth, nobody would think twice about it afterward, besides the boys who made it their mission to achieve the impossible, her words buried under the reminder of deadlines, alcohol, and oh, I wonder if their parents are getting a divorce? And then they would forget about that, too. Nobody really thought about anything that much anymore. It didn’t matter that she ran away from home, that he sent out nude pictures of her, that the planet only had a number of years before man-made damage was irreversible, that genocide was in their email every day (courtesy of the news channels they subscribed to in a fit of woke and never remembered to cancel their subscription for). The next thing would always beat the previous thing in shock value, and life continued as the seasons changed and hair grew longer. 

That’s what he always knew, too. And that’s why he knew it didn’t matter that their presence would be gone for a few days. He needed some time alone with her, preferably somewhere dark and secluded; they had been too distant as of late, and it bothered him to no end. She would ignore his texts, and he didn’t want to show up at her house. No, that required an amount of gas money spent. The lines of their relationship bled like ink in water, and right now they were in a drought. 

He thought they needed to do something to get it out of their system. Something dangerous, something that made them feel alive again. He knew that they needed to top all their previous escapades: smoking cigarettes on the roof wouldn’t cut it anymore; bloody knuckles, once his favorite look, didn’t have the same effect it once promised; sexual jokes weren’t as funny when he thought his girlfriend was listening, lurking around the corners. 

He applauded for himself, an entire standing ovation, when he conjured up a new idea, all so that she wouldn’t spiral out of control and take him down with her. He imagined the two of them were like that one swirling hole in the sea; you know, the one that sends out weather alerts and brings big waves. He would giggle to himself, thinking about how smart he was for making up such a metaphor, especially one that encapsulated just how volatile she was. 

She was surprised that he was picking her up and that their final destination was not just remaining immobile, placed in his car. Maybe he had something for her, something she couldn’t get herself since her fake ID was confiscated. A part of her was afraid that she had done something wrong and now was his time to retaliate. She didn’t know if he had a vindictive streak in him, but didn’t everybody? She paced back and forth on her rug until it threatened to tear at the seams, the color wearing off in the shape of footprints. Her mom had asked her to stop destroying the furniture like that, but the air in school had been off recently. Everyone’s stares lingered longer. But it’s not like she could bring that up between him and her; it was a sacred topic that sat with them like a deity. But it was not to be touched in fear of sensitivity. And what if it was like a skinwalker, appearing closer and more real each time it was mentioned? 

Nobody would ever know how paranoid she truly was. Not when she swallowed it down like bitter medicine coaxed with sugar. Or pure vodka that stung her lungs as it traveled down slowly, lightly burning her insides. He certainly didn’t. 

He drove up to the white cement house, almost pressing the horn to call her out, like a dog with a bell; but then he remembered what time it was and how her parents were. He was always like that: brain lagging behind until his muscle memory saved him. He had something special planned, and it would be a pity for it to be ruined by something pesky like a parent’s scorn. 

He sent her a text with as few letters and punctuation as possible, his body trembling with excitement. He found that it was hard to give effort towards things that didn’t pay him back, but with this endeavor, he knew he was getting a reward at the end. It thrummed through his nervous system like an electric current, tickling the back of his spine with its invisible presence, both calming and erotic. 

The message appeared received as she walked through the front door. She had gotten past the point of sneaking out her window, the thrill of the ledge less appealing each time. And besides, her family didn’t have enough money to install a security system that sent an alert each time the door opened. She used to be scared at night that something would sneak in undetected, something unwelcome and prickly with claws for teeth. But then she realized that the only true thing that snuck in was her. And she had to be welcomed in her own home. Even if her teeth were sharper or buzzing from how bleached they were. Even if she had tangled hair or clothes with stains on them. 

Their only form of conversation was the eye contact they made when she rounded the car to sit in the passenger seat. 

He drove in silence while she looked outside the window, forests of trees blurring into one as he sped up. The air was cold and crisp with the company of fog, and at that moment she thought maybe there was a point to all of it. 

Everyone knew that they liked to go on drives like this, so when the police department finally received the last known location of his and her phone months later, nobody was surprised. In fact, it was the last thing law enforcement ever did when it came to solving the mystery of where they went and where they were. There were more pressing issues at hand; who else was going to yell at and arrest high schoolers for taking alarm bells? Such serious matters could only be taken care of through weapons and intimidation. Intimidation was legal under all counts of the law, and he knew that too. 

So even though he was taking her deep into the woods, to somewhere they had never been before, he was not nervous. He had been there many times before and was an expert in the unknown amongst the trees. 

She felt a tingle run down her spine, but she chalked it up to excitement mixed with adrenaline. This was her first time becoming one with nature, and she thought her eyes could use a break from the blue light of her screen. 

She didn’t think he would hurt her. Not like that, at least. Not in the way that alerted the news; she knew that something really bad would have to happen to someone people really cared about. And she wouldn’t fill either of those conditions. Besides, people always hurt other people; that was the nature of the world. The balance of society would be uneven if everyone was fair and just. She wasn’t innocent either. Just a natural product of her environment, as they all are. 

And when they arrived at their sight, she still didn’t know where they were.

If they were being honest with themselves, he didn’t know either. As much as he liked to credit himself as a modern genius who had put so much heart and thought into this, he hadn’t put that much muscle power into it. He knew of a vast area of land that was unoccupied; he had stumbled upon it the last time he was high (“yooo this is the perfect place to smoke and trip up without someone being up my ass”). 

“What’s this?” She asked, confusion lacing the syllables. 

He just grinned in response as he jogged to the back of the car, pulling out two shovels and a camera. She understood immediately, cheeks blushing crimson at the idea of his romantic antics. They were the only humans for miles to come, their only company being the low buzz of the forest at night and trees that covered their tracks. 

The camera would soon be discovered too late, and processed for evidence even later. The shovels would lay abandoned at the bottom, along with what was left of him and her. 

She didn’t know what they were doing and insisted on following his lead, even though he had no idea what was supposed to happen next. Forget planning for this excursion; he didn’t even want to plan which girl he would snap a picture to later after he got home. 

Instead, he did what he was familiar with. He set up the camera on the ground, pressing record before running back to her. 

His smooth, porcelain hands contrasted hers that were riddled with leftover nail polish and callouses. They both wrapped around a shovel each, and started to hit the ground with the rough, silver end. Remnants of the floor— tree bark, dirt, rocks, pebbles— splattered around them as he groaned when she giggled. 

At first it was difficult, just like any other physical labor would be, before it became easier. Sweat droplets decorated their foreheads and necks, eventually falling down to be soaked up by his and her hoodies. Slowly, a small hole appeared after their strenuous efforts. 

“It’s not that deep.” He rasped, trying to cover up just how exhausted he was. 

She agreed, and so they continued. The grunting and deep breaths mixed with the thunking of their metal shovels against the hard ground. Sometimes it made way for conversations, but never loud enough for the camera to pick up. 

The video would lie abandoned, never posted like it was once intended for. Nobody would ever end up knowing what the purpose was. Nobody would question it either. Something about teenage spirit repelled any excuses; it had to be a mixture of hormones, rebellious nature, of being a teenager. Even if we asked them, they probably wouldn’t tell us anyway. And if they did, we can tell them that it was never that serious, and they’re thinking too much. Just wait until you get older. 

They continued digging, even digging under their feet and the spot where they stood, sinking deeper into the forest ground. “It’s not THAT deep, though.” 

And so they persisted through the hard ground that Mother Nature had provided. Somewhere along the way, their bodies pressed closer together, and she swore that this was the most intimate act they had ever participated in. 

Her laughter grew softer, and so did his grumbling; they were both genuinely enjoying this. It was unlike anything they did in classrooms or on hangouts, especially when they were sober. But they were both more clear-headed than ever. And in all honesty, if you did mix together this so-called teenager phase, along with the spontaneous nature of him and her, you still wouldn’t be able to put together a coherent answer to what they were doing. They didn’t know either. That was the beauty of it to her. She finally didn’t have to plan, and he finally didn’t have to think; not that either of them participated in either activity very much, but they were finally free from feeling guilty about it. They were doing whatever their heart desired, the rest be damned, because it’s not that deep. Maybe they would party at the bottom of the hole later when they were finished digging to their hearts’ content. Maybe he had brought a blunt and wanted the smell to fade away closer to the center of the Earth than at the top where people could catch them. 

Their parents tried to later piece together the puzzle that they left behind. But then they had to go to work, and they concluded that the two would return whenever they were ready. Her father was truly overjoyed with the now silent house, and His mother was glad that the mirror could be used by other people instead. 

And so they kept digging because “it’s not that deep.” Even when the space around them sunk in and they found that their vision field kept getting lower and lower as time passed. At first, they saw the fog fill in the spaces between the trees, and then they saw the middle of the bark, and then they were eye level with the ground, legs closer to hell than heaven. 

But it was so fun, and he had finally let loose. He could be as loud as he wanted in a place where they were the only living things for miles. And so even when they could no longer see the forest around them and could only see the sky when they raised their head, they still decided it wasn’t that deep. 

And so when his best friend had finally stopped hooking up with his girlfriend behind his back, attempts were made to track him down. To say sorry to him, to wonder where he went that nobody else knew of. To ask why he was gatekeeping. Why his streaks had run out, and his snap score wasn’t moving. And so the hunt began. But it was abandoned the next week when the pregnancy scandal was leaked. And when anybody asked, the response was always “it’s not that deep bro, he’ll prob come back soon.”