Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Wherever you were was cold and damp. Water dripped down in rhythmic drops, splattering on what might be stone from the sound of it.

Panting, you blinked unseeingly at your pitchblack surroundings. It smelled like cool stone and vaguely of rot. You blindly reached around, bumping into a cold, hard surface. Sliding your palm along it revealed it was rock. A foreboding feeling coiled in your gut, alarm bells ringing softly in the back of your head.

You grasped for the bulky flashlight on your hip. Slowly, reluctantly, your thumb moved along the cylindrical shape, inching towards the power button. There, it hovered, unwilling to press down. You clenched your eyes shut and clicked the power on anyway. Light snapped into being, unwelcome and bright. A sure signal to your location and presence.

And then you waited, breath stuck in your lungs. But nothing happened. You didn’t instantly die. Monsters didn’t spontaneously appear to gouge your organs out.

Your eyes snapped open, flickering wildly. Swiveling the light around, blood drained from your face. Stone caverns pressed around you, tunnels dim and cold and home to the monsters that still hunted outside and—

Slowly, you clambered up, calves cramping from the cold and running. Your mind started going into overdrive, panic taking hold of your senses.

A tree brought you here.

It felt like a sick joke. The boy had told you, you'd be safe in the tree. And you believed it for some insane reason.

The drama with the bus made you do stupid, heroic things. You blamed the carnage at Colony House. The guilt of not being able to save one of your friends as a monster ripped him from your arms. The lady with the headband had only given you a cheeky wave before tearing into him.

The only reason you got away was because someone else pulled you away.

And then came the bus…

One of the passengers had looked so much like him. He fled after Kenny shot a fucking bullet in the air.

You foolishly tried to get him, getting lost in the woods in the process while dusk settled over the land. The tortured screams of innocent people carried all the way into the forest, while you had to sneak around and pray no monster saw you to add your own cries to the symphony of hell.

But of course they did. Lips pulled in smiles gleamed in the dark, following you everywhere. They seemingly popped up whenever you tried to take a different turn. It had almost seemed like they were... herding you.

To where you had no idea. The trees had been indistinguishable in the dark. But you could swear it was towards these very caves.

And the more you ran and tried to get away, the more tired you got. Hope dwindled down fast once you could hear leaves crunch under their steps, meaning they got closer than before.

It was then that the boy appeared to you. A boy in white, who pointed you towards a tree with an open cavity in it.

You had hesitated for a mere second before diving into it.

And now you were here.

Right in the heart of enemy territory.

Terror so potent rose inside you that it numbed your tongue. There was no way you could go outside right now. You wouldn’t make it back to town, let alone behind a safe door with a talisman.

Which meant…

You swallowed around your fear.

…you had to hide here.

Twisting in place, that plan felt herculean. The caverns stretched on in an impossible maze. You didn’t even know where to find the entrance.

Taking a shaky breath, you began walking, hand pressed against damp, uneven stone to steady yourself. The beam of your flashlight wavered, catching on jagged rock, then dipping into a tunnel that sloped downward into deeper black.

You shivered, hating the lack of sight. For all you knew, monsters could still be here, roaming about.

Everywhere you turned, light caught on smooth stone. No hiding places. No shadows deep enough to swallow you. Nothing to crawl under or behind.

Nothing but tunnels.

“Just keep looking,” you whispered to yourself. “There’s still time.” Your voice cracked at the end. The words sounded thin and ridiculous in such a massive, hollow space. An empty hope swallowed by unrelenting darkness.

You passed more tunnels, that faint waft of rot growing stronger. The light passed over something that moved. You choked on air, heart pounding inside its cage. Your legs tensed, ready to bolt—

A rat scurried by, disappearing into the distance.

You stared at where it ran off to. You inhaled quietly, shakily, trying to still your heart. An useless task with the current situation. You had to move. There was no counting the hours that passed while you stood, trembling in fear because of a fucking rat.

After what felt like hours and mere seconds at once, a crevice came in sight. Small, narrow and deep enough to hide you until daytime.

Quickly, you scrambled over, sweaty palms planting on cold stone as you cramped inside, elbows tucked awkwardly by your side. But you’d take minute discomfort over death any day.

With a lot more reluctance you fidgeted with the flashlight, eventually clicking it off. Pitch black darkness welcomed you. Not even your hands were visible in front of you. Nothing was.

Your mouth went dry. Now you had to wait… and pray.

Your rapid heartbeat and the shock of adrenaline were the only constant. Neither stopped the cold from creeping into your skin, reaching to bite at your toes and fingers.

Pressing deeper into the crevice, your cheek grazed against damp stone. Your breath hit the wall and bounced back, warm and claustrophobic. Each inhale felt too loud. Each exhale felt like a beacon.

Minutes crawled by.

Or maybe hours.

There was no way to tell down here. Not without sunlight. With no sound but the dripping and your pulse thundering in your skull.

The cold burrowed deeper. Your muscles trembled. Your legs threatened to cramp.

You tried to swallow, but your throat felt swollen shut.

Another droplet hit the ground. But there was another sound. A soft clicking.

The scuff of shoes on stone.

Your lungs froze mid-breath.

More steps flowed from the distance, echoing like a death knell down the cave system.

You remained as still as a statue. In the overwhelming darkness, you could only listen and cling to desperate hope.

A den of beasts ready to rend you to bits if they found you, poured inside the cave. You’d be dessert to the main course they had tonight.

Your stiff fingers clenched around the flashlight, its casing bending under the pressure.

Some steps faded. Some…

Got closer.

None of them made further sound. No victory screeches, no laughter of satisfaction like you had imagined. Awful, tense scuffling only.

Clenching your eyes shut, you listened to their approach, hoping, praying they wouldn’t see, wouldn’t hear your thundering pulse.

But—

They moved past your spot, the clicking growing softer.

You almost wanted to cry in relief, tears already burning behind your eyes. You shifted, pressing more into jagged rock and—

A small noise slid over the stone outside. A foot coming to a sudden stop.

Ice poured down your back.

Very faintly, very, very faintly, footsteps walked along the cave.

You hadn’t heard it. And you had shifted. You made noise.

The footsteps paused. Right outside your hiding spot.

Your skin prickled as though icy fingers stroked along the nape of your neck. You wanted to press deeper, disappear into the rock.

From the corner of the crevice, you heard something plant itself to the smooth stone. Not claws. Not fabric. Bare skin, a palm pressing against the rock above your hiding spot.

It slid downward.

Closer.

Closer.

Your whole body went rigid, tears stinging your eyes as your brain screamed at you not to twitch, not to make a sound, not to show even a fraction of a presence.

Something crouched.

You couldn’t see it, but you heard it. Knees folding, clothes shifting, weight settling. A figure dipping down as if folding itself neatly to peer into your pathetic hiding place.

A hand brushed your ankle.

You didn’t mean to whimper. The sound clawed out of you, raw and tiny.

The fingers froze.

Then they stroked. An absent-minded sweep across your skin. Gentle. Slow. An illusion of comfort.

You braced for pain, tensing your muscles even as denial howled into your mind.

A loud screech tore from right beside you, high-pitched, rumbling into a low purr at the end. Paralyzing fear zapped through your nerves, locking your body in place.

The large hand reached deeper into the crevice, grabbing your ankle, tugging at your frozen form. A second hand wrapped around your bicep, firmly extracting you from the crevice.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t stop it from happening, your body skidding uselessly over the ground.

A steady pattern of footsteps approached from all sides. Slow and heavy. Approaching with the quiet certainty of beings that had never once needed to rush.

The monster pulled you to your feet, your legs barely able to hold yourself up. Your flashlight fell from your grasp, tumbled to the ground and clicking on as it rolled with a too loud clatter.

Light snapped your horrible reality into sight.

The monster that still held you was the muscular, blackhaired one, his smile wider than usual. Something like pride shone in those empty eyes.

You didn’t breathe. You didn’t dare breathe.

His hold tightened just enough to remind you he had you. That he didn’t even need to use force to keep you still. Your legs trembled beneath you, buckling, and he steadied you like one might steady a child learning to walk.

A low chuff of amusement rumbled in his chest.

More figures materialised in the spill of the flashlights beam, stepping out of tunnels like shadows peeling off the walls. Their smiles glinted. Some politely. Others too wide and pleased. All fixed on you.

They blocked every exit.

The black-haired monster angled his head, watching you with an expression that shouldn’t exist on a creature like him. Something warm and satisfied threading through with terrible hunger.

He lifted his hand, making you flinch as he cupped your cheek. He tilted your head as though to admire his find.

The others simply watched, eyes wide like they drank in the sight of your fear.

You wanted to say something. Do something. Plead, reason, scream. Anything to get out alive. All that came out was a small choked out sob.

A thumb brushed your cheek almost soothingly.

Clicking echoed behind him. Polished shoes on stone. The one dressed as a cowboy stepped into the light, hat tipped low. His smile was calm. Pleasant. The kind offered to a friendly neighbour on a sunny day.

Only his eyes betrayed him—dark, fixed, focussed like a predator who had finally snapped his jaws shut around something he’s been tracking for hours.

“Well now,” he drawled in a tone far too calm for the cold, rot scented cave, “to think you’d just fall right into our laps. Funny how things go, don’t you think?”

A ripple of amusement buzzed silently through the crowd, smiles stretching wider.

The cowboy stepped closer. You flinched back instinctively, pulled at the firm grip around your wrist. You didn’t get far at all, the bulky one grabbed your other wrist to pin you in place.

“No need for that,” the cowboy said softly. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

A lie. Pain and death were all these creatures dealt out. It was a sick, twisted attempt to lull you into a sense of safety before they tore you apart. Their favorite game.

He reached out, brushing his knuckles down your cheek with the delicacy of someone touching fine porcelain.

“You’ve had a long night,” he murmured, eyes shining with light straight from hell. “And there’s still work to do.”

Your blood turned to ice.

The creatures all moved as if one cue, an unheard command shifting through the mass. Many went deeper into the tunnels, others… Others closed in.

The black-haired monster went to your left, grasping your bicep again. You twitched when another hand clasped your right bicep immediately after. Your head snapped that way, meeting a wide, sharp grin. Deep, blown pupils bored into you, framed by ginger lashes.

Air left you rapidly, fear snaring around your throat like a vice.

The cowboy’s voice came from right behind you, breath tickling your ear.

“Come along now,” he whispered, tone dipping into false sweetness. “We’ve been waiting.”

You barely resisted when they coaxed you forward. Funneling your shaking body deeper into the tunnels. Your feet stumbled on the first unwilling steps, heels dragging against stone like it could prevent your inevitable fate.

In the beam of light you saw scratches embedded in the wall, intricate patterns that held no meaning to you, but instilled a dread so deep inside you that your knees folded inward. But the monsters held you up, carrying you forward as if you weighed nothing.

Everywhere monsters surrounded you. Expectant smiles decorated their faces.

In that moment you realised, they had been trying to get you here before. Had truly tried to herd you into the caves.

And that tree…

Brought you exactly where they wanted you.

A place where they could do whatever “work” they meant to do.

Where no one would ever hear you.

Your muscles tensed, panic seizing your limbs as you began trashing belatedly. “No, no, no,” you repeated like a mantra, voice hoarse.

The two monsters lugging you around, wrapped their arms firmly around your flailing arms, practically carrying you into the gaping maw of darkness that were the caves. Away from the flashlight. Away from hope.

Your feet barely even touched the ground anymore. Any kick delivered to their legs went ignored.

“No need to make it harder for yourself there, sweetheart. It’ll all be over sooner than you think,” the cowboy said, clearly amused. “You’ll feel better in no time.”

The words landed hazily in your head, bouncing around thinly as if through static.
You kept trashing until you couldn’t anymore, fatigue settling heavy in your muscles. Whining sobs poured from your mouth before the monsters even started. The ginger’s hand grasped the back of your neck, thumb brushing over your pulse. Your lips only wobbled more violently, something close to resignation slotting into your soul.

Their footsteps, and your suppressed cries were the only sounds for a long time. Eventually you were carried into a lighter cave system. There were lamps there, lighting the broad, open cavern they all spilled inside.

The lamps brought no warmth to the cave. It reflected off the grey stone and fake, human faces of the monsters, revealing the awful truth of your dire plight.

The monsters split in eerie coordination, sifting around the open chamber with purpose. Many took their spot along the arched wall, forming a circle. A few formed a smaller half circle in the middle. The nurse and the cowboy. A slab of sorts sat between them, a white cloth carefully laid over it. One that must’ve been here before.

You felt dizzy with sickness, the overwhelming pressure of their focus made you want to shrink into non-existence. All their heads tilted at you, pleasant, empty smiles painting their faces, eyes so intense you wanted to claw them out.

The nurse stood at the head of the slab, something dark glittering in the shadows of her face. Despite the stillness the creatures harbored, she shone with honored duty.

Whatever “work” would be done, you knew it would be bad.

You trembled, muscles twitching when you were carried towards the slab.

Screaming at your body to move, to fight caused another miniature twitch. Nothing else. Adrenaline had burned out. The icy coldness of the cave had weaved deep into your tissue, turning soft flesh stiff and numb.

There would be no heroic stand off. No fleeing and getting out into fresh morning air while the monsters remained stuck in the caves, screeching their defeat.

There would be this.

You were lowered back on your feet in front of the slab. Not that it mattered. Your legs wouldn’t cooperate. The tremble too deeply set.

Neither monster let go, smiling viciously at you. You didn’t know where to look. Those empty, grinning faces were all around. Your mind still cried its denial, unaccepting of the fact that soon it would be over.

Hands pressed down on your shoulders and your knees gave away almost immediately. They lowered you further down, knees resting on the white covering like an offered lamb. Nausea churned deep in your gut. Blood would clash against the white brightly. Your blood.

You expected them to lie you down, but—

A sharp tug on your sweater, claws just barely grazing your skin and suddenly fabric tore at your back. You yelped, weakly wrenching sideways “S-stop,” you cried, tone raw and wobbly. But the ginger’s fingers already dug into the fabric on your shoulder, ripping it even more to shreds.

The nurse reached to stroke your hair. “Shh, It’ll be okay.” You tried to escape her touch, their touch, to no avail, heart pounding in your skull. “We’ll take good care of you.”

If she knew how much fear that instilled in you, she didn't show it.

Your sleeves were partly torn off, leaving your back exposed. The chill pricked at your bare skin. With scant any fabric clinging together, the front fell away too, leaving you all the more nude.

And they all kept staring, gazes tracing exposed flesh. The ginger even traced fingers between your shoulderblades, tracing a strange pattern. There was something hungry shared between them all, an alien desire that you couldn’t, wouldn’t, comprehend.

The creatures closest to you moved in sync again. The nurse circled to your side, the ginger in front, the bulky one behind and the cowboy stepped to your other side. A small circle, surrounded by a larger one consisting of steady watchers, plastered to the walls with the stillness of lifeless statues.

Fingers curled under your chin, lifting your head up. “Deep breaths, darling,” the cowboy spoke softly, smile still so friendly beneath the pits he called eyes.

Fear quaked low in your belly, his wide, pitch black gaze anything but reassuring.

The two males who carried you, gently pressed you down. Or attempted to, because you shot up, tried to trash your way out of the circle with what little strength you had left.

Their response was immediate. They closed in like a vice trap, hands engulfing your limbs, pressing down against your spine, your shoulders, pressing and pressing until your belly met the white cloth, face smushed against soft fabric wrapped around hard stone.

You gritted your teeth in desperation, bucking against their hold. A few monsters plastered from the walls. The waitress, humming softly from the back of her throat, an ill attempt at soothing that made your skin crawl. The handbag lady that killed your friend came next, smile startlingly absent as she lowered to a crouch beside your head.

Her stare hollowed you out. You recalled the screams, the pleading, the blood, the way she watched your frozen form as she dug her claws in your friend's belly.

Now those same hands reached for you, delicately brushing a strand of hair from your face. Her touch was astonishingly light, almost motherly, and your entire body seized in terror.

“It’s okay,” the waitress crooned, her voice a sing-song hum that slid over your nerves like burning oil. “It’s alright to be scared.”

“Fuck y-you,” you stammered out through clenched teeth, glare baleful as you focussed on the handbag lady. “Fuck all of you.”

You knew these things were never your friends. No matter how many times they stalked your windows, held conversations with you, told jokes, showed concern when you didn’t eat enough—they were monsters that faked compassion, faked connection. You knew that.

So why was the lack of amusement to your cussing so frightening? You expected mocking, not soft touch carding your hair away from your neck. Not the warm palm pressing to your spine.

“Don’t fight it,” the cowboy said. “Just breathe for us now.”

The ginger’s fingers tightened around your wrists, holding your arms pinned above your head. His grip wasn’t cruel, just utterly unmovable. He chuckled low in his throat, some contented little hum that shook the fragile hope in you.

Behind you, the bulky one settled his massive hands on your hips, steadying you like he was lining something up. Like a craftsman adjusting a piece of material before the first cut.

The nurse’s shadow shifted beside you. A glint of metal caught your eye.

A blade.

Small, curved. The kind used for intricate work.

You froze when she settled on the ground, the cowboy’s hand sliding to hold your hair out of the way. You almost whimpered, understanding where this was going while simultaneously comprehending nothing at all.

Please,” you whispered, voice small and broken as you attempted a final bid to stop whatever they were doing. “Please.”

She only placed the sharp edge of the blade to the tender flesh of your shoulder, her other hand steadying your side.

The ginger leaned over you, his grin stretching wide against your temple. “Hush,” he whispered back, breath brushing your ear. “It won’t take long.”

For a moment your mind glitched, trying to imagine a better outcome. The desired outcome. Boyd barging in from the dark tunnels with a cuss on his lips, shooting bullets at unmovable monsters while someone else grabbed you and ran. Donna, Kenny, Ellis.

Anyone.

And then the knife pressed down. You felt it pass the barrier of your skin painlessly, the blade so sharp that it easily cleaved through. She made a short, curved incision from your shoulderblade to around your ribs.

Your brain stuttered, trying to process the information your torn flesh gave off as disbelief found its home in your heart.

Blood trickled along your back, the liquid bleeding out together with the hope someone would intervene. No one would come for you. To them, you may already be dead. Anyone outside after dark was as good as dead after all.

Then the pain came, your brain finally catching up. White-hot, searing, radiating from your spine. You choked on your next breath, fingers clawing uselessly against stone as your body arched in pure instinct. The monsters didn’t tighten their grip. They didn’t need to. They absorbed your thrashing with patient ease.

The waitress hummed louder, harmonizing with the ginger’s excited huff. The others watched with those horrible grins.

The blade pressed into you again. A second line carved along your back. And another. Each stroke connected to the last, shaping what must be an intricate, symmetrical pattern.

And with each cut, the agony increased. Your back felt like it was on fire. You had tried to keep quiet, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of your pain, but then she carved in your lower back and you broke.

A shrill cry tore from your throat, raw and hoarse.

The handbag lady cradled your head, brushing sweat damp locks from your face. “There, there,” she cooed as if speaking to a frightened pet at the vet. “Almost done.”

“You’re doing beautifully, sweetheart,” the cowboy continued, carefully carding any stray hairs away from the bleeding gashes on your shoulders.

More incisions were made still, every inch of mutilated flesh searing.

The bulky monster’s hand slid to your ribs, steadying you when you jerked with a strangled sob.

Mindless words and cries tumbled from your lips, some animal instinct inside you churning out whatever nonsense it thought the monsters would want to hear to make them stop.

The nurse moved to the last corner of your back still unblemished. She worked with dutiful calmness, her motions almost kind. There was no haste. No frustration. Only focus and devotion to her craft.

A nurse was meant to heal, to close wounds and nurture one back to health. Here it was twisted the opposite way. She hurt, she made you bleed.

You felt faint, muscles trembling but otherwise unresponsive. Breaths turned thin and wet. Your vision became blurry.

And still the carving continued.

When the final arc sliced across your torn skin, the room exhaled as one. The nurse leaned back, knife put away with a dull click.

Palms left your sides. A sound filtered from behind you. Shifting fabric and something almost like leather being punctured followed by a wet squelch. Seconds later something warm and thick trickled on your open wounds. You shuddered, the liquid acting like salt rubbed in the raw flesh, but your mind was so hazy, you could barely respond.

More of the same sounds followed, this time from the handbag lady. You watched as she moved her clothes around, fingers disappearing from sight. That dull leathery puncture and squelch came next. Her fingers came from beneath her clothes, coated in a thick, yellow liquid. The smell had your nose scrunch. Rot.

Your body couldn’t move as those fingers reached over your head to let the unknown substance drip into your wounds. You hissed, convulsing.

The waitress followed suit. Monsters one by one moved from the outer circle to splatter that yellow stuff into the carvings like it was all a revered ritual to them.

The liquid burned deep, seeping into every cut, every trembling inch of raw flesh. The pain was no longer burning, it was invading.

Your vision blacked out.

When you came back to, your eyes rolled around slowly, lids fluttering. Your body was like lead.

Most monsters were gone, you vaguely realised. Jean clad knees sat beside your head.

“There you are, sweetheart,” a familiar voice uttered softly. “Just in time for the end.”

You blinked sluggishly, vision swimming in and out of focus. The cloth was wet beneath you. Blood and residue of whatever they rubbed into your skin crusted on the white. And on you. The air still smelled of that rancid, rotten scent, combined with the iron tang of spilled blood

Only one of them remained close.

The cowboy.

He crouched beside you with the same easy posture as when he lingered at your windows. You tried to glance at his face, hoping you could glean something from it. A friendly, calm smile curved at his lips, gaze softer than before. It didn’t change the intensity of his focus. You felt it like a smothering blanket wrapped too tightly around you. Except you were too weak to rip it off.

“Almost thought we lost you,” he murmured.

He cupped your cheek. Not painfully. Just a quiet press of warmth against your cold skin. Like he was grounding you. Comforting you.

Maybe, to him, he was.

Your breath hitched. His thumb brushed along your cheekbone in a motion that should’ve been gentle. Should’ve been kind.

But nothing about him was.

Your throat worked around a sound that wasn’t even a word. He leaned in closer, poised over you in a way that would be uncomfortable for a human being.

“Easy now,” he cooed. “You’ve been so brave.”

That was worse. So much worse than any mockery. There was fondness there. Approval. Like you did something for them. For him—the creature at the window, tapping at the glass for attention like a dog begging for scraps.

A feeling close to humiliation embalmed you then. Brave, he had called you. As if they had given you a choice. You had to be brave.

You tried to pull away. Your body managed only a twitch.

He noticed.

“You won’t feel like this for long.” His tone was soft, as if speaking to a lover. “It burns at first. That’s normal.”

How would you know? you wanted to demand. Did you do this before?

His hand slid from your jaw to cup your neck, fingers lightly encircling your throat. Not squeezing, just resting. Feeling your pulse stutter and race beneath his too intimate touch.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let it happen.”

You didn’t know what he meant until it happened.

A sharp throb ignited beneath your skin. Deeper than the cuts. Deeper than flesh. Like something foreign wriggled under the carved lines, testing the edges of its new home.

Your breath stuttered, then caught entirely when a second pulse followed. Then a third.

Your hands spasmed, back arching despite your body’s exhaustion.

The cowboy’s grip on your neck tightened, holding you steady as your body rebelled.

“We’re just settling in. You’re almost there,” he murmured.

You couldn’t hear him over the thunder in your head. Your vision threatened to fizz out again, nausea almost making you retch.

The cowboy thumbed your pulse again, tracking its frantic stutter with interest.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Strong little thing, aren’t you?”

Your vision blurred, darkness lapping at the edges.

But this time there was no reprieve. The pulsing grew weaker as whatever clawed into your being settled with a shuddering stillness.

Your lungs inhaled greedily, finally able to work again. Your lids fell shut, eyes unable to remain open anymore.

“There we are, sweetheart. Did so good,” the creature spoke with pride. “Let’s get you more comfy.” He rolled you on your side, arm curling under your shoulders with such ease that your gut curdled its discomfort. Because he behaved like touching you was natural. “Somewhere warm.”

Comfy. Warm.

The words unfurdled wrong in your mind. Something like him shouldn’t use such descriptions. It crawled at your nerves.

He lifted you up, absurdly carefully for something that must’ve dismembered people like wet paper hours ago, and carried you across stone floors. Cool air touched your bare skin, arms incapable of covering your mostly nude front, gashes pulling taut as if they had scabbed over already. The monster adjusted so your head lolled weakly against his shoulder.

Your breaths came in short, quivering pulls. Something inside you felt… wrong. A shift. A second presence. Another heartbeat that purred and thrummed. Too present and distant at once.

You couldn't tell whether it was in your blood or head.

The cowboy’s fingers tightened ever so miniscule. It was hard reading these creatures' body language, but you swore it was excitement.

It frightened you. What had they done to you? Why hadn’t they killed you? What came next?

He tilted his head to look at you, something indescribable in the deep intensity of his gaze. “Almost done now,” he promised quietly. “Almost home.”

You swallowed what little saliva you had left, eyes averting. Whatever “done” and “home” meant you weren’t sure. You didn't want to know.

With your mind hazy, you still attempted to follow the impossible amount of twists and turns he took. Impossible with how your eyes fluttered shut and open, time passing in flashing jumps. Surprisingly the cave wasn’t fully dark anymore, soft hues of grey showing the path your captor took. Some monsters were asleep, scattered against rock, their hideous form revealed in slumber.

A small alcove loomed at the far end of the cavern, shadowed by jutting rocks. The cowboy carried you there.

It was darker here, your pupils adjusting to the shadowy blackness to form more monochrome hues. Blankets and pillows formed a circle in the midst of the cavern. Layered, soft, shaped awfully similar to a nest of sorts.

You shuddered.

You had heard the confusing find after the deaths of Meagan and Lauren Pratt. Pillows and blankets had gone missing from their house afterwards. Other things had seemingly vanished as well. Mugs, cutlery, combs. Things like that. Was this where it had gone to?

The smiley ginger was prodding at a pillow, seemingly contemplating the bounciness of the thing. He looked up when you were carried in, a smile stretching wide over his face. “You’re awake,” he said. He glanced at the bundled bedding and back, tilting his head. “Look what we made for you.”

Your throat closed up, no words able to string together let alone be uttered out.

The cowboy knelt, lowering you into the soft pit with gentleness unbecoming of his kind. He made sure you lied on your side. Your eyelids fluttered, sight blurry yet zeroing in on the monster beyond the cowboy’s legs.

It was her. The nurse.

A slow tremble wrecked your frame again. She was asleep, pressed against a wall and terrifyingly still. Her skin was pale and blotchy, teeth jagged protrusions along her jaw. Her monstrous visage suited the horror she had subjected you to.

It was irrational. Nonsensical.

They all had played their part in the torment, but your brain latched onto her as the main perpetrator.

The cowboy shifted, body settling beside you in a way that hid her from sight.

Behind you, the ginger bundled blankets around you, tucking you in with the slow grace of a feline. It was wrong. So very wrong. You took a shuddering breath, eyes falling shut against your will. Fatigue whispered in your soul, offering temporal relief in the form of slumber. A part deep inside you hoped it was all a dream. A bizarre, terrifying nightmare that would release you from its grasp soon.

But the fingers stroking along your jaw, hair, throat felt too real. A strange energy clung to their touch. Something like restraint.

You tried to curl up, shy away from their hands. Your back throbbed painfully with the movement. Like the carvings were healed and not healed, sealed and raw all at once. A pressure deeply buried under your skin responded to a foreign distant call, but you pushed it down, afraid of what it meant.

But something crawled along the carved lines, pushing back against your weak shove. Deep, subdermal warmth spreading along the glyphs like ink bleeding through paper.

You wrenched your eyes shut even tighter.

No. No, no, no—

The cowboy’s hand settled over your sternum.

“It’s all right,” he murmured. “Let it take.”

Take what?

Take root? Take hold?
…Take you?

The smiley one traced careful fingers up your covered arm all the way towards your head. "You should sleep,” he whispered, tone silky smooth, the words curling in your mind like a sinful promise. His nails scratched along your scalp, sending an unwanted shiver along your frayed nerves. Your eyes fell shut without conscious input, body happy to pretend the comfort was real for a moment.

You were so tired. Your mind dredged in fatigue. And everything hurt.

They kept petting you, treating you like a precious animal they finally coaxed into their arms. Their warmth soaked into your skin to soothe the chill in your bones. The bedding cocooned you, soft and yielding in a way that seemed deliberate.

It felt like a trap. A snare you wouldn’t see until it was too late.

Your stomach clenched tight around the wrongness.

You didn’t want to sleep. You really didn’t want to. Sleep meant vulnerability. But the exhaustion in your limbs ebbed like a relentless tide. Each breath dragged you under a little more.

Your eyes drifted shut in spite of your desperation.

No. No, you needed to stay awake, needed to think, needed to—

But the hand in your hair kept stroking, slow and patient, every pass numbing you a little further. Your back pulsed, warm and alien, like something was setting roots deep inside.

“We’ve got you, sweetheart. Rest,” the cowboy murmured, and you felt more than heard them. Like warm breath against your thoughts. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip, another intimate, claiming gesture that made your skin crawl. Only when your breath slowed did he pull back, settling beside you with quiet satisfaction.

The pleasant scraping of nails in your hair pushed you closer to the brink, each stroke a heavy weight on your consciousness. Your mind sat on the edge of sleep, the throb in your back dulling in its intensity as you neared unconsciousness.

A stray thought drifted up from the part of you still fighting.

Am I… being kept?

To your body the question didn’t matter. Fatigue smothered any warring battles within. You no longer had the strength to care.

“We’ll play soon enough,” the smiley one whispered as a departing gift to your fading senses, blackness floating up to catch you with tenderness too kind.

Play…
Play could only mean death.

You allowed relief to wash over you. Because exhaustion was greater than fear right now. Desire for escape triumphed over the need for survival.

Your last waking thought wasn’t fear.

It was confusion.

Because if you were going to die…

…why did their hands hold you like something precious? Why bother creating a warm, soft place to sleep?

You pushed down the rising twinge of discomfort. Or something else did for you, purring with quiet laughter.

The discomfort slipped away with the rest of you, leaving only the quiet, terrifying possibility that whatever “play” meant…

…you weren’t dying for it yet.

You were being kept alive.

And you didn’t know what that meant.

Chapter Text

The next time your eyes opened, it was with the headache of the century pounding in your skull. Your consciousness ebbed in and out of focus, picking up scents that weren’t part of your room. Something rotted, something cool. Your mouth was dry, skin feverish as your heart raced uncomfortably fast. Your back throbbed painfully with every breath. 

A cacophony buzzed in your mind, trying to shove past the cotton fuzzing your thoughts. Confusion blurred your memories. But the one thing that held your attention was the weight on your hip. It felt weirdly familiar, but you don’t remember sharing a bed with someone. 

Your eyes cracked open. Confused, you stared at… legs? You trailed your gaze upwards, trying to recall and then… your heart dropped.

Everything came rushing back in a whirlwind of flashes, lungs failing to work for a second. Your body tensed on reflex, locking itself in place.

Because below the cowboy hat was a monstrous face you’ve never seen before. Gone was the middle aged “man”. In his place sat a humanoid beast with sharp, needle-like teeth. He had never shown his monstrous face. Not even once.

Fear seeped into your heart.

Your gaze was rooted on him, expecting his lids to snap open, his teeth to embed in your neck. But he sat still. Unnaturally so. His arm was draped just behind you. Close enough that you felt the ambient heat rolling off him. You had always imagined they’d be cold. 

Slowly, you craned your head around the place, wounds pulling in protest. You stifled the desire to curl up more below the blankets.

The nurse sat against the wall still. Behind you, smiley had laid down, his hand planted on your hip. The source of the mysterious weight.

All sat still. Almost like lifeless wax figures. Not even their chests rose to breathe.

Sickness coiled low in your belly, threatening to rush up your throat. You swallowed it down.

Because they were asleep.

This was your chance. The only one you might get.

You tested your limbs, lifting an arm to grab the ginger’s hand. Your heart thumped against your ribcage, screaming not to do it, not to risk waking them. You pushed through, trying to breathe slowly. Your eyes flickered wildly between them, watching for any twitch.

Slowly, you peeled the ginger’s fingers off your hip, accidentally brushing against the rough, dry texture of his nails. You flinched back, his hand plopping over your belly. The strange nails grazing over bare skin where your tattered sweater had rode up. You tensed, hoping he hadn’t awoken. But nothing happened. And then you tried again.

This time you expected the strange texture, skin crawling at how bark-like it felt. You settled his hand on the blanket. He didn't so much as sigh.

You tried to sit up, slowly crawling out of the cocoon, blankets stubbornly sticking to your skin and your body unwilling to cooperate. Molten metal flowed through your limbs, weighting you down. 

One arm gave away and you toppled over, pain rippling along your back. You forced your cry down, tears springing to your eyes. Your gaze flashed along the monsters, from one face to the other.

They didn’t stir. Not even a little.

Anger rose unbidden inside you. At the unfairness. How comfortable they must be if nothing woke them up. Not like with you. Sometimes a small creak outside your window was all it took. You’d shoot up, ready to flee. But no self preservation was necessary for these things. Because what could kill them? Hurt them?

You hated it. Hated them.

Even as you denied the sting of betrayal they had instilled.

Perhaps, somewhere deep down, you had become compliant. Especially with that ginger one. His curiosity, his awful sense of humor, the way he left pebbles on your window sill. Yet, he was the only one who had laughed at your shed blood throughout the… the ritual. Because what else could it be?

You watched his sleeping face, the angry, ribbled skin of his forehead, the rows of uneven teeth. To think this was what stalked your windows at night, eyes alight with curiosity about the way you painted rocks out of boredom.

But now you wished those eyes remained closed forever.

Gritting your teeth, you rolled on your belly, nauseous from the mere position. The one they had forced you in possibly hours ago.

You didn’t know the time. They could be waking up soon for all you knew. You had to hurry.

Your heart drummed quickly, trying to pump energy into your quaking muscles. Anger ebbed away with every noise you made, cold fear pouring out of your skin in a clammy sheen.

Once you were on swaying feet, you wrapped an arm around your centre. The scraps of your sweater barely protected you from the chill.

Behind you, the blankets had been tainted with your blood. You wondered if all of the stains were from you though, dizzy from the mere thought of having slept in a dead child's blood. 

Your breath remained shaky and short as you staggered towards the mouth of the alcove. You kept expecting hands to grab your ankle. A voice crooning out to shatter all hope. Teeth to clamp around your neck.

Nothing moved. Nothing breathed.

They appeared dead.

But you… felt something. A still presence under the carvings, circling around your spine in rings. Dormant, but alive. You wanted to deny it, but every inhale stretched the ring tighter, turning it into a knot at the middle of your spine.

It made you want to hurry, push your legs to move faster. That… presence would awaken and then what? Was it them? The monsters?

You shook it off, fingers digging into your sweater to keep it around your chest. 

The cavern stretched on forever before you in soft gradients of grey, blacks softened to smokey hues that you shouldn’t be able to see. You tried to find a source of light. A lamp, a crack in the stone. But no. 

It were your eyes that distinguished shades in what should be pure darkness.

You could see dust motes drift lazily in the air like snow. Saw cracks in stone you otherwise wouldn’t have seen.

And you saw some creatures scattered around the cavern, sleeping docily. As if they had gathered around the alcove while you slept.

A hand drifted to your chest, compelled to check your heartbeat. If it beat, you were still human right? You… You weren’t becoming one of them.

A pulse thrummed beneath your skin in answer. You recoiled from it, one hand clutching your ribs like you could smother the sensation through pressure alone. The flesh there pulsed too. Not in the way wounds should throb, but in a warm, alien sensation.

Fear surged along your shamble frame. What was that?

You instinctively limped forward, each footstep a careful negotiation with your screaming muscles. The stone was cold, biting at your feet. You barely remember kicking off your shoes during the carving, but you welcomed the pain. It felt honest. Real. Something the monsters hadn’t taken or warped.

Halfway across the cavern, your legs nearly gave. You caught yourself against a jut of rock, swallowing down your pain.

Your head turned instinctively.

Still asleep. Like corpses arranged in twisted positions. Heads slumped in awkward angles, fingers curled like dead bugs.

You forced yourself to move, ignoring the shiver that crawled through your spine when the carvings on your back pulled tight, like something underneath was stretching.

A new scent trickled from up ahead like a distant river. Earthy, damp. Soil. It came more strongly from the left. Heart skipping a beat, you followed it. It was the only sense of direction you had.

The tunnels loomed ahead, a labyrinth of pale greys and soft blacks. You couldn’t remember which path the cowboy took carrying you here, but your vision adjusted again, welcoming depth that shouldn’t exist in this darkness.

So you kept following the scent curling in the air, limping further away from the creatures. A bud wanted to grow inside your chest. Hope. Tiny and sprouting. You squashed it down, unwilling to let it die again if they do catch you.

Each step was agony. But each step was forward along spiralling tunnels. Stone gave way to puddles of water. Water to the scent of soil and damp forest air, brushing against your sweat‑slick skin.

You hesitated, staring down the narrow tunnel before you. Birds sang, filtering as an echo through the entrance.

It felt too easy.

After what they did to you, after, presumably, building a fucking nest for you deep inside the cave and huddling around it as if you were their stolen treasure…. It was far too easy. Or they were simply arrogant. Or perhaps didn’t believe you’d wake up anytime soon.

You still held your hope with a grain of salt. 

Lowering to your knees with a slow hiss, you began crawling up the entrance. It was a slow trudge, the damp ground cold to your fingers.

With every inch forward, you expected claws digging into your calves, dragging you back down the rocky slide.

The dormant warmth in your back told you otherwise. You didn’t know why you knew, but this thing… this ritual, had connected you to them. It was something you couldn’t yet place. Right now you only focussed on fleeing. Once you were safe, you’d think and assess properly.

The real question was… Do you show this to the others? You swallowed, throat scratchy from dehydration and overuse. 

Your fingers dug into soil, dry leaves tearing under your fingers. Flawed, human fingers with dirt and dry blood caked under cracked nails. You felt fresh blood trickle down your back where the skin had torn. 

You were human still. Boyd wouldn’t kill you, right? He wouldn’t let the others harm you… right?

That was a problem for later.

Because the presence in your back pulsed. Only slightly, but alarming all the same. Like something had turned over in its sleep. 

Something cold tore into your chest. A jagged piece of ice. Because when you finally got out, the sun was already settling again, its rays low and golden. You flinched when it graced your retinas, the glare of the sun searing into your sight, blinding you. The birds were singing their evening song just before sleep.

Panic fluttered bright and loud in your chest, breath sharp and fast.

The carvings in your back soared in response, like something jostled awake because of your increased terror. 

And you felt it like a ticking clock. Tick, tick, tick and they’d see you gone. Tick, tick, tick and they’d sound the alarm.

You scrambled up as fast as you could, trying to blink spots away from your vision. There was no time. You stumbled through the forest, feet stinging from the cold. Sharp rocks cut through your thin socks, slicing into your soles.

The first screech tore from the tunnels, more pinpricks of awareness flickering along your consciousness like stars peaking though a cloudy sky. It wasn’t mad, wasn’t even irritated. It was amused. Excited. The influx of foreign emotions disoriented you, trees turning into murky splotches.

A flare of gentle warmth scraped along your thoughts, tugging on what felt like your very soul. But there was something almost… sadistic beneath. Something that enjoyed your struggle. A sob spilled past your lips. 

Blindly, you continued forward, falling and tripping, but clambering on until dusk threatened to swallow you. 

Eventually you saw lights peaking through the trees. Without thought, you chased them, bursting through the treeline close to the church. The streetlights had long since turned on, the bright lights stabbing into your sensitive eyes. People already locked themselves inside their houses, blinds covering the windows.

The bus was still there, now parked beside the sheriff’s station up ahead. A reminder of how you got in this predicament. 

You came to a sudden halt. A man sat in the bus. You couldn’t make out his expression from where you stood, but he was looking straight at you. He got up, getting closer to the front of the bus as if to get a better look himself. 

It felt unreal. Was there actually someone on the bus—or was your mind finally breaking under the strain?

More screeches echoed from the forest, soft, purring things slotting against your mind, your soul. We know where you are, it crooned to you.

It startled you back into the moment, body stumbling back as if you had been punched.

Tears tracked freely down your cheeks as you tried to shield yourself from the foreign touch. It was a weak attempt at putting up mental barriers like you saw in movies. But it didn’t work. It rippled more amusement along the lines in your back. Like you did something cute.

The sensation spiraled along your spine like a laughing breath fogging glass. They were pleased. They enjoyed your fear.

You swallowed another sob, limping along the cracked pavement outside the diner, ignoring the stranger on the bus as you clutched your sweater around you. You had wanted to reach Kristi, but now you inched towards the sheriff's station. The lights were on. Boyd must be back from his trip.

With heavy steps, you went up to the front door, eyes burning with more tears. You fell against the door, palm slamming flat against the surface.

No need to fret, the warmth purred just as another unholy howl crackled from the trees. We’ll be there soon. It wasn’t meant to be comforting. You could feel it.

“Open–,” you croaked, but cut off into a coughing fit, throat sore from screaming and crying. 

The blinds opened up, the welcome sight of the town’s sheriff greeting you. Boyd mouthed your name in disbelief. His horrified eyes trailed along your form, fixing longer on the blood and the now brownish fluid caked along your skin.

He seemed to snap out of it, opening the door and moving aside. “Get inside.”

But heat wriggled under your skin, pulsing along your spine and you toppled over with a gasp.

“Shit,” he hissed, catching you and pulling you inside. Boyd shut the door behind you two, locking it firmly. He helped you to reach his desk, settling your mostly limp body on a chair. His hand steadied you, kept you from falling sideways.

Horror sat bright in his eyes as they trailed along your back. Words seemed to fail him.

“Boyd,” you said hoarsely, lips wobbling. “Boyd, it–, they–” A dry sob got stuck in your throat. Muffled murmurs trailed along the inside of your skull, pressing close, but smothered as if thick glass sat between. “I got lost and–”

Too many hands held you down as you fought back. Smiles seared into you, unknown liquid burned into your carved skin. It pulsed and pulsed and—

“Hey, kid, look at me,” Boyd’s voice snapped through the memories, warm hands clasping your arms firmly. Human warmth with oscillating temperatures at different parts of skin. Nothing like the constant, unfluctuating heat of the creatures. You met Boyd’s concerned gaze, feeling queasy all the sudden. “Breathe, okay? You’re safe now.”

You wanted to agree, you really did. But you knew it wasn’t true. Something inside you had changed. Wasn't entirely yours anymore.

“You should put me in the cell,” you rasped when your lungs functioned again, fingers clinging at torn fabric like it could protect you somehow. As if it could keep the alien sensations at bay.

Concern flashed over his face. "What?”

“I can feel them. They’re in my head. What if–” You gulped. “What if they influence me?”

“Who would?” Boyd asked, something like dread crawling in his words. Because he knew the answer already, you saw it in his eyes. He was only waiting for confirmation. But still he didn’t let go of you, kept you grounded like he believed you were worth saving.

“The monsters,” you confessed it like a sin. Quiet, slow. Their presence had dulled. In the sense that the sharp edge of a blade had been turned away. But the danger still lurked. “They… did something to me,” you continued shakily. “I don’t know what. They’re going to come for me. They know where I am, I can feel it–”

Boyd pressed his eyes shut for a moment. “Listen, we’ll figure this out tomorrow. Kristi will take a look at… at that,” he said, nodding at the carvings, “and we’ll figure it out, okay?”

His exterior radiated calm confidence. Even if it was fake, it had you take a slow, steady breath. You nodded jerkily, voice coming out more stable. “I’d still feel better if you lock the cell.”

A deep sigh unfurled from his lungs. His hands fell away, back to his sides when you remained seated without threatening to fall. “Alright, but drink something first. You look like you need it."

Your stomach disagreed, churning uncomfortably even as your body screamed for lost resources that needed replenishment. But you were thirsty. Very, very thirsty. “A glass of water would be nice,” you muttered.

He nodded, going to his private room. You stared at the shutters covering the windows. A tremor of your fear thrummed along the strange connection. You didn’t know how to stop it. How to keep yourself separate from them. Tiny pinpricks turned towards you, trying to wrap around you, creeping along the edges of your fear with amused fingers. A band, a tether, a reminder.

You gasped silently, startling when a glass settled down on the desk in front of you. Your wide eyes snapped towards Boyd’s worried ones. “Drink and get some sleep. You’re safe,” he repeated softly.

Tentatively, you reached for the glass, fingers trembling as they wrapped around it. You barely managed to take a sip without spilling. The water was cool against your parched throat and you quickly gulped it all down. It settled heavily in your empty stomach.

Boyd looked away, seemingly remembering something. “I’ll get you some spare clothes. And something to wash with.” 

You nodded, eyes trailing after him. Specifically the gun resting on his hip. You swallowed, hoping he wouldn’t turn it against you. 

Distance hadn’t quietened the pulsing warmth. Their… feelings crawled under your skin like a second heartbeat now that they were awake. Hunger. Amusement. Anticipation. Like it was all just a game. And if so, what was your own role in this game? 

Fear clutched your heart tightly. If you managed to get out of this place, would this link still exist? You sure would be terrified of driving over highways again.

You shakily put the glass back down, nearly knocking it over in the process. You slumped forward over the desk, body succumbing to fatigue now that you were a little safer, adrenaline tampering down. The wood of the desk was cool against your already chilled skin. The chill had burrowed deeply again, settling beside your shaking soul.

Boyd walked in with a bowl of water, a cloth inside it, folded clothes sat under his arm. “Let me just–,” he placed the contents down. “May I…?” He lifted the wet cloth up to you. “You’ll get an infection if it just sits like that.”

You nodded, your insides numbing to match your skin. He pulled fabric aside, mindful of your wounds. You tensed when the warm cloth pressed against the torn flesh, brain flashing the cave before your mind. The monster’s hands, their sickening touch.

The stench of rot still clung to you. It became prominent in the closed space of the station. Shame curled around your neck, flushing all the way up your cheeks.

Boyd made no comment on the smell or what must be glyphs of sorts, keeping his promise of leaving the heavy conversations for tomorrow. 

You wondered what it looked like. Felt ill just thinking about it. He cleaned the muck away with practised ease. His bare skin brushed against you and you stilled, a nauseating prickle stabbing along your sides.

You stiffened.

The man behind you flinched back, grunting. He clasped his forearm. You craned your head, eyes widening. He had rolled his sleeves up to prevent them from getting wet. 

And under his skin… 

You reached for his arm before you could stop yourself. “What the fuck are those?” Worms or maggots writhed beneath his skin. The second your fingers made contact, nausea throbbed along your ribs. A faint, sickly buzz reverberated through you.

Both of you seemed caught in a trance as you watched the worms dance. The man twitched and groaned in pained discomfort.

The longer you touched him, the more violently sickness churned in your gut. But like grabbing an electric current, you couldn’t seem to let go. Your fingers clamped tight around his arm.

Then your own monsters answered.

Heat flared in your spine, attention snapping towards you so fast it almost knocked you over, vision bleached white for a second. The tether to the monsters snapped taut, like a weight dropped onto the chain linking you to them.

They woke sharply in the bond. Alert. Offended. Snarling.

A venomous ripple traveled up your neck. Jealousy tangled with possessive fury. 

Boyd steadied you again, hands on bare arms. He was saying something, but the roar in your skull swallowed the words whole.

The monsters clawed at the link. You felt them tear something loose. Information from your side. They whispered something incomprehensible. Like crows circling a fresh target

The worms wriggled more wildly in Boyd’s arms, the man making a strangled sound.

Your breath stuttered to a halt, heartbeat slamming into your throat. 

Boyd and you practically sprang apart. The chair tipped, clattered together with you to the ground. You let out a pained grunt, the impact rattling though your spine. 

The two of you watched each other, mirrored horror open and bare on your faces. Both panted hard, sweat coating your foreheads. 

Something passed between you at that moment. A sense of solidarity. Two individuals marked in ways unheard of in this pit of misery. Because when you touched him, it became clear. Something unnatural moved beneath his skin. Something wrong.

The creatures pulled back a little now that you weren’t touching, loud, headache inducing impulses softening into a background murmur. Still there, still watching, but mollified for the moment.

“Please, lock the door of the cell,” you croaked, standing up. Or trying to at least. You wanted to sleep, to be away from all this shit. “I don’t trust myself anymore.”

“Kid–,”

“Please, Boyd. I’m fucking scared,” you whispered.

His shoulders sagged, a solemn nod his answer. You limped inside. The cell was a small room with a bed shoved in one corner. Spartan, but clean. A place you never thought you’d want to sleep inside.

You carefully sunk into the cot like it would break beneath you. You couldn’t help but note it was less comfortable than the nest. Not as warm, not as soft.

You despised that.

Boyd lingered at the threshold, one hand braced on the frame of the door as if he was fighting the urge to say something more. Something he didn’t want to admit out loud.

“You’ll be alright,” he said, quieter this time. You weren’t sure whether he was reassuring you or himself. “If you need anything—anything at all—you call, okay?”

Your throat felt tight as you nodded. That was all you could manage.

Boyd closed the cell door, locking it with a solid click and walked back toward the front of the station. You heard the creak of a chair and the settled weight of someone preparing to stay awake all night.

He was keeping watch. Because of your situation. Or maybe because of the worms. Probably both.

It brought little comfort. The monsters may not be inside the building physically, but they were inside you.

But you tried to ignore it, curling under the thin blanket that smelled stale and like faded detergent. Yet you fell asleep within no time, all energy depleting the second your head met the pillow.

Blurry dreams plagued your sleep. Not nightmares exactly. Just… sensations.

Desire that wasn’t yours. Sharp hunger that sat like a fist in your stomach. A flicker of anticipation. Then sudden, crushing boredom. Like something pacing in circles, waiting.

These feelings bled through shapeless visions that dissolved the moment you reached for them. None of it stuck.

But you swore you saw the sheriff's office once. Not from inside your cell. From outside, where the night pressed against the window. You remembered the faint outline of a smile in the glass and then—

Knocking.

A voice followed, muffled and distant to your ears. Speaking to Boyd through the pane.

You couldn’t recall the words.

But when you slowly surfaced from sleep, you carried one thing with you;

The bone-deep certainty that the conversation hadn’t been a dream.

It had been real. 

It left you cold.

Voices spoke outside the cell, distracting you. Hushed, but sharp words were spoken.

Your stomach rumbled, hunger gnawing at your bones. Slowly, you rolled to sit on the edge of the cot. “Boyd?” you said, voice soft and raspy.

The talking stopped. The lock was turned, Boyd opening the door. 

The man looked terrible. As if he didn’t get a wink of sleep. Not just this night, but for a longer period of time. Not much of a surprise there.

“You’re awake,” he said it like he was genuinely worried you wouldn’t be, relief resting in his untightening jaw. “How you feeling?”

With the headache, hunger, painful itch along your back and the still existing ambience of the monsters in your mind…?

“Like shit.”

A half smile formed on his lips. It was a small, brittle thing. “I know that feeling.”

Another face popped up beside his, her eyes much wider. “Holy shit… you’re alive,” Kristi said, mouth slack. “Actually alive.” She shuffled forward, hands twitching at her sides like she was refraining from reaching out to you.

Your fingers curled nervously in the sheets, trying to ignore the quiet, yet loud presence at the back of your skull in its foreignness. “Somehow… yes.” 

She shook out of her stupor. “Right, sorry. Boyd said they… made symbols on your back?” So Boyd already informed her. You weren’t sure what to think of that. So you simply nodded, throat closing up. Words that wanted to tumble out remained locked behind your lips. About the ritual, the strange liquid, the nest. “Can I take a look?” she asked softly.

“...Yeah.”

Her hands were gentle as they studied the wounds, face paling rapidly. 

She didn’t speak at first. Her breath just hitched like she’d been punched in the gut.

Kristi swallowed hard. Her hands hovered over the carvings, careful not to touch. You didn’t know what they looked like. You weren’t ready to see. “These… These aren’t random.” Her voice lowered, like she was afraid of being overheard. “There’s patterns. Almost like–” She stopped herself, pupils flickering to meet yours. There was a question there, sheer bewilderment and fear potent in her gaze.

“A ritual,” Boyd finished for her.

The word landed heavy. It was like a kick to the head. Confirmation that strangled your last remaining, hopeful delusion it wasn’t real. Because the incisions couldn’t be uncarved, that yellow substance couldn’t be extracted from your system.

This was permanent. 

Your heart felt like it was scraped out. The monsters had essentially claimed you. Like you were just some… thing they could do whatever they wanted with. It was humiliating and terrifying.

Kristi shut her mouth, lips forming a thin line. She forced a professional calm back into her voice. “I need to clean these properly. They’re not bleeding anymore, but we should disinfect them just in case.” She looked back at Boyd. “Can you get me clean water?”

He nodded, leaving to gather that bowl again you presume. In the quiet that followed, you lowered your gaze to the floor, unwilling to show Kristi your shame. 

“Boyd said to keep this quiet,” she whispered after a while to break the tension. 

“Maybe that’s for the best,” you whispered back, already tired of feeling different. Changed. A victim.

The treatment passed rapidly, Kristi making quick work of cleaning your back and any other remaining crusted dirt or blood on you. The water in the bowl turned murky by the end. You hissed as disinfectant was put on. She wrapped your wounds afterwards, helped you put on fresh clothes.

In the meantime, you tried to explain parts of what happened. You left out the tree, the strange touches, the liquid. Kept your emotions close to your chest so they wouldn’t spill out and crack on the floor.

It was easy to assume the monsters had brought you to the cave themselves. Because who would believe in magic trees? People here were strangely skeptical of the supernatural despite the crap they dealt with daily.

“So what do I tell everyone?” you asked, seated at the desk again. Boyd had grabbed some food for you from the diner, giving you a moment's longer privacy as you ate in his office. You were also pretty sure it was to make sure you actually ate.

“Maybe that you got stuck? Somewhere hidden, I mean,” Kristi said. “The forest’s big. It would be believable enough.”

Boyd nodded. “We just have to make sure we know what’s going on. Then we can talk about sharing this with others.”

The mention of others had nerves flutter in your belly. You didn’t want to see anyone else today. Wanted to curl up in a hole and hide from everyone and everything. But being fully alone wouldn’t be a thing anymore. Not for you. Not with the link.

You had to suppress a shiver.

But you still desired a semblance of alone time. “Can I sleep in my own house tonight?” Though, maybe house was too big a word for your sleeping arrangement. After the attack on Colony House you were done with the place. Something Donna understood. But there wasn’t much space in town either. 

A tiny, near broken down house had become your refuge. One you eventually shared with nobody else as your roommates returned to the mansion while building the radio tower.

The other two made eye contact. “Yeah, about that…” Boyd started carefully.

And then he explained. Some people from the bus had been placed there. Everyone had believed you were dead. It was cold practicality. Expected and understandable. But you felt the sting anyway. 

“I don’t think I should be near people at night,” you said quietly, refusing to meet their eyes.

The words came out before either of them could finish their thoughts on the matter. It was an instinctive recoil at the idea of sharing a space with strangers while the bond thrummed alive and hungry in your veins.

Kristi’s brows knitted together. “You don’t know that you’re a danger.”

“I don’t not know it either,” you shot back. “And after everything? After all the weird shit here? I don’t want to risk it.”

Boyd rubbed a hand over his beard, exhaling long and slow. Worn down to the bone from this shithole you imagined. “We’ve got an extra talisman. We can clear out the old shed near your place. You sleep there and we’ll see how it goes.”

The brunette beside him looked displeased. “Boyd, you can’t be serious.” She didn’t appear to fully take you seriously. Or was in denial. But the strange nature of your wounds were a testament of their own.

“The choice’s not yours.” The man looked at you then. “We can put a spare mattress in there if you really want to do this.”

You nodded immediately.

“Then I’ll get started with that. You,” he pointed your way, “rest. And you,” he turned to Kristi, “take it easy, okay?”

She sighed, nodding as well.

Both left soon after, leaving you at the station with clear instructions to stay put, eat, rest and with every other instruction a doctor may give. 

And apparently Kristi’s fiancee had been on the bus. And that… that was crazy. How does that even work?

You sighed, still slightly hungry despite the food in your belly. The shutters were cracked open, sunlight pouring in with a headache inducing vengeance.

People strolled down the road. Both old and new faces. Some laughed, some appeared too neutral. They were still untouched by the sheer tragedy of their situation. You weren’t keen on seeing hardship turn those faces older with lines of stress etched in them. 

You could make out the bus when you stepped closer to the window, squinting through the shutters like some creep. It seemed like forever ago since the bus arrived. In reality it's been only two days.

You didn’t spot the man from the night before.

You watched the street a little longer. Eventually Tabitha walked by with Ethan. Blinking, you pried the shutters apart more, checking if it was her and not Julie. But it was truly her. 

She was alive. Appeared fully unscathed at that.

Then the insanity of the day the bus arrived came back. Tabitha missing, Victor still missing, the collapsed house, dozens of new, confused people. How many had survived? How many were dead? And what had happened to Boyd? 

It hit you that you knew nothing, had been too busy with your own problems to worry about anyone else. Ashamed, you fought the urge to look away.

Watching them fade from sight, you hoped mostly everyone was okay. There were enough who had died. You had heard them, had wanted to burrow your head in the ground to avoid the agonized screams.

You limped back to the chair.

You fidgeted with the hem of your borrowed shirt, the quiet of the station digging up your buried emotions. Fear seeped along your nerves like trickling water.

Maybe Boyd would want to help getting rid of those carvings.

The small group of people in the station had varying levels of doubt etched on their faces as Boyd explained your sudden return. A second unexpected return you learned, but one more appreciated compared to Sarah’s. Not just a murderer, but the reason for the incident at the clinic as well. 

It became obvious not everyone believed the alibi fully. Your back wounds had been written away as having gotten scratched up after falling in a deep ditch where you had supposedly been stuck this whole time.

“Why not sleep at the clinic then?” Kenny asked.

“I wanted rest,” you quickly answered for Boyd. “Or, well, Kristi told me I needed proper rest. I don’t sleep very well at the clinic.” Which wasn’t a full lie. The place was creepy in your humble opinion. Too large, too empty. You preferred sleeping in corners, having your back to a wall. And the addition of blood stains didn’t win any points for the clinic.

“And we’ll be checking in daily,” Kristi added. “The scratches aren’t bad enough that we need to monitor them constantly.”

The young man seemed to accept that answer.

Donna knew you too well to believe any of it however, her eyes boring into Boyd and you like she could implode you both and catch the truth out of the remains.

“You better tell me the full truth someday,” she said quietly at you, after wrapping you in an embrace, careful of your back. She was understandably displeased at being left out.

Thankfully mostly everyone was happy to ignore any discrepancies. 

The newcomers weren’t even informed. There wasn’t much reason to. They hadn’t yet met everyone anyway. You faded into the background for many of them. For now at least. Rumors spread fast in this small community.

You followed Boyd across town. A few of the newcomers watched you with curiosity. Others with faint recognition. 

You kept your head towards the goal.

The shed sat a little ways behind your house, tucked under a crooked tree. It wasn’t much, just old wood and rusted hinges, but the sight of it nearly buckled your knees with relief.

Boyd opened the door to show the inside. Just like he promised. A mattress, bedding, a lantern and a talisman hooked beside the door.

“It’s not much,” Boyd said. “But it should be warm enough.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. “What about my belongings though? Can’t run around in your clothes all the time.”

“We didn’t divide them yet. Not untill…” he trailed off, clearing his throat. “They’re still inside,” he said instead.

You nodded, grimly wondering if they wanted to find your corpse first before dividing everything. “Then I’ll grab some spare clothes if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. Now if you need me, I’ll be–”

“What happened to you?” you interrupted. “In the woods,” you clarified at his confusion, gesturing at his arms.

His jaw tightened. He glanced down the street, then stepped fully inside the shed and pulled the door partway closed behind him. Keeping his voice low, he answered. “I don’t fully understand it myself. One second I went into a tree. Next thing I know, I was in some kind of… dungeon. A man named Martin had those things inside him. He passed them to me.”

Your brows furrowed. A dungeon? “Someone in that dungeon had those worms?” 

He nodded, consternation on his face. “He was chained in there for fuck knows how long.”

If this Martin guy wasn’t here… You inhaled slowly. “He’s dead then isn’t he?”

Boyd gave a slow nod.

Fear and worry crashed into you. “Did those worms kill him?” 

Boyd hesitated too long. “I don’t think so. There was this music box. He said bad things would happen if the music stopped.”

“That’s… not better,” was all you said, unhelpfully. “But those worms still can’t be good.”

Boyd didn’t reply. His face said it all. He didn’t know what the fuck was happening either. Or what to do.

Then your mind hooked on one other tidbit. Something that you actually could make a little sense of. “I also went through a tree,” you whispered. “It took me to the caves.”

Boyd stared at you like he needed a few extra seconds for that to land. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “Listen, we can’t tell anyone about those trees. People will try to use them.”

You let out a weak, humorless huff. “Trust me, I wasn’t planning to.”

“Good.” He hesitated again, lingering. “If you need me—

“Did one of the monsters talk to you?” you blurted out before your nerves could get the best of you. You needed to know. Had to be sure. “Last night,” you clarified quickly. “I dreamt about it and I–” you stopped. Boyd’s face grew slack with horror.

He drew a slow breath through his nose. “Nothing important was said. They say what they need to get to us,” he said calmly. Which didn’t answer the question you wanted answered so badly. Boyd searched your face. “Are you sure you want to sleep alone?”

A shiver ran along your neck. Why would he ask that after your question? 

“Do you think it’s better if I don’t?” you asked back.

His shoulders sagged, the weight of something unseen pressing onto them.  The man suddenly looked so tired. “I don’t know anymore,” he admitted. “You take care of yourself, hear me?”

“...I will.” As much as you could with the current problem at hand.

Boyd nodded once, then turned and left without another word.

Your heart didn’t slow down for a long while after.

Whatever they had said to him, it had shaken him.

You shook it off as best as you could.

Later that day, you dumped your bag with belongings in the shed with a quiet sigh. Not just clothes, but other necessities as well. It kinda sucked you didn’t have a bathroom in here, but hopefully it would be a temporary home. And Kristi had warned you against full on showering anyway. The wounds shouldn’t get too wet.

Wind howled past the shed, the old wood creaking in its attempt to stay standing. A draft seeped through cracks in the windows, making you shiver. It smelled musty on top of it all. Not an ideal place for sleeping.

The windows of the shed were already barred, mismatched planks covering broken glass. Except for one. The small window in the door was still wide open for any eyes to peer through. Boyd had made a make-shift curtain in front of it. A thin sheet of protection against the creatures you just knew would be there tonight. 

Because you weren’t the only one waiting for nightfall.

Most had awoken already, anticipation and hunger coiling beneath your ribs. They leaned into you, carefully prodding as if to check up on you. They didn’t seem to like the distance much.

Kristi’s words rung though your head. About being alone. Would it be stupid to sleep alone right now? The monsters thrived when their target was isolated. Some could play human enough to dull any alarm bells their uncanniness brought about. If they wanted to at least. 

But you could feel them now. Feel their intentions to a certain extent. They clearly felt your emotions as well. It could either work in your favor or theirs.

And they were with more.

You already were alone in a way. Alone against a horde of creatures that binded you to them for some inexplicible reason.

And yet, despite everything, you still stood. You managed to get away. Now you simply had to stay away. Find a way to block the link. Or better yet: remove it. Even if you had to burn every inch of your back to do so.

You zipped open your bag, taking out what you needed.

Boyd was already doing his daily routine, the bell sounding to warn all residents it was time to go inside.

Something rustled behind you while you were settling in. Instantly your muscles locked up, gearing up to run.

“Hey… You really going for it then?” Kenny asked, standing in the open doorway, book in hand.

You took a calming breath, relaxing from the familiar voice. “Yeah, I don’t really want to share a room with strangers right now.” You took a spare quilt from the bag, placing it over the ‘bed’.

“You could always sleep at our house? There’s still enough room. I’m pretty sure it’s more comfortable than a mattress on the ground.”

“And having to listen to one of Jade’s rants? No way,” you attempted to joke. But Kenny just looked concerned. You sighed, every ache settling in your body all at once. You couldn’t tell him, guilt creeping in your conscience. “I… just want to sleep. I’m exhausted, Kenny.”

Something in his demeanor softened, worsening your guilt. “I understand.” He lifted the book up. One you recognised. “I thought maybe… you wanted something to do while you’re here.” He reached it towards you. “Kristi and I already reached chapter two.”

You carefully took it from him. “Thanks Kenny. I’ll try and catch up as fast as I can.” 

He pocketed his hands. “Had to keep it safe under my pillow a few times. Jade tried to steal it to have something to write on,” he said blandly, lips tilting up.

A laugh escaped you at the image of Kenny warding off an enraged, paper starved Jade.

The rings under his eyes shrunk with his smile. “I’m glad you’re okay. We really thought…” he didn’t finish. Didn’t have to.

Your own smile turned a little sadder. “How are you though?” you asked him instead, happy to bypass this particular topic. “I didn’t get to ask.”

His thoughts swirled almost visibly over his face, features etching into cold stone. “She should’ve been put in the box,” he whispered venomously, peering somewhere sideways.

You knew immediately who he meant. “Yeah, she should’ve been. But that didn't happen.”

“Then I’ll make it happen!” he burst out.

You sighed. “Her blood would be on your hands then, Kenny.” He looked away, stubbornly keeping quiet. “But you should probably hurry back. The sun is starting to set. Give your mom a big hug for me.”

The mention of his mother had the desired effect, tension draining from his shoulders as he nodded. “She’d prefer it if you came in person.”

“Tomorrow,” you promised.

You wished each other goodnight, Kenny hurrying home.

The door shut with a creak, the bottom of the frame dragging over the floor as you pushed it closed.

Already you felt drained.

You swapped into your pajamas, sitting down in the sleeping bag. You tried to read a little, calm your mind enough to sleep.

It was your book. One you took with you in case you grew bored on your trip—Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis. Not the happiest tale to bring into an already unhappy place. It was a gift however and you won’t throw a gift away. Especially not when you may never see the giver again.

You managed one paragraph before the letters blurred. Something about waking changed. Waking wrong. You shut the book before the words could cut any closer.

So you tried to sleep, curling tight around the hollowness in your chest.

The mattress wasn’t very comfortable. Too thin, too hard. Unlike the nest, something whispered within. It sounded like you, but also not. You rolled over, pangs of discomfort in your belly. You can come home anytime.

“There is no home here,” you slurred to no one, body succumbing to light bouts of sleep. Restless sleep, filled with too many impressions of too many minds.

There was the sad, empty nest, some blankets still wet and drying from where there’d been an attempt to scrub bloodstains away.

Then came trees and something like desire, someone paving a sure path through the forest. Your home came into view, people inside that didn’t belong. Their lungs creaked within their fragile ribcages, filled with air that could whistle out in screams. Tempting, but not as tempting as what was hidden close by. 

A pull on the string and it led you to the shed, to the slumbering mind inside.

A smile stretched wide on your lips, a small pebble in hand as you lifted your knuckles to the door and—

You jolted awake, heart soaring in your head as three steady raps shook thin glass in its fragile, wooden frame.

“You sleep a lot,” a voice rang out, muffled by the door. “You’re loud when you do.”

It was Smiley. You stubbornly rolled over to your other side, winching as your scabs pulled tight. It was pretty bright in the shed. Brighter than it should be. The moon’s pale light barely spilled inside through tiny cracks. Proof something about you had changed.

“I brought another stone. It’s small and smooth. Perfect for—”

“Is it like your brain?” you blurted out, anger flitting along the words like sparks of ember.

You felt him contemplate, faint amusement flickering along your spine. “You can’t paint my brain. But you can try. Come outside and we’ll find out.”

A humorless huff escaped you. Of course he would deflect your insult with his shit humor. You had to bite your tongue lest you fell into familiar banter.

“Are you upset with us?” he asked when you said nothing else. It was cold, cruel. Deliberate. He was trying to get a raise out of you by indirectly bringing up the ritual. 

Bile burned in your throat. You remembered his predatory glee as he tore at your clothes. The intense gaze as he watched you be carved. How slow and restrained his touch had been after everything.

“Why?” you whispered, voice close to breaking. “Why me?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer.

The link pulsed faintly. Hesitation, calculation, something like a hand on a doorknob it hesitated to turn.

“You spoke to us,” he said simply, as if it explained everything. The link was frustratingly silent. You couldn’t glean anything from it.

“So did others.”

The bond twitched then. A dozen presences leaned in, listening. Something inside you quaked. It felt as if the bond tried to tug them closer. Bind you closer. A yearning sat deep in your chest and you didn’t know who it belonged to. Or for what.

“Maybe, but they weren’t you. We know you.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“It will.” You could hear him crouch, the pebble settling on the ground. A peace offering. Or a claim. “You can’t stay away forever. You feel the distance too.”

“I don’t,” you said too quickly, heart doing a sickening little flip flop.

The link flared. Warm, greedy and bright as a flash of lightning piercing a dark sky. You felt their collective attention settle on that lie like a pack of wolves circling a wounded sheep.

“You don’t have to be frightened.” His voice dipped soft, coaxing. “Just come outside. You’re supposed to be with us. It’s easier that way.”

The pang of hunger that came from him brought very little comfort. It felt like bloodlust. Like… desire of sorts. It bloomed brightly with his proximity, simmering like a hot glare along your lower back. An ache in your teeth.

A ripple of interest clawed in your loins in response. A shameful reaction you had denied for a long time, hidden carefully behind a cool veneer whenever you followed his hands as he stroked one of those pebbles or rocks he brought. 

But now they could feel it. Some doubled down in their interest. Others grew faint, deeming this no longer their conversation.

Horror bled in your heart. Your jaw locked up, pride falling into shambles as your body betrayed you. You wrapped the sleeping bag tighter around you, willing the heat to tamper down.

The hinges creaked, someone putting pressure against the old, fragile door. Smiley’s frame blocked more light as he leaned closer, arms against the sides of the door. The talisman still sat nailed to the wall, your safety fully in the hands of a small rock.

You shook on your make-shift bed, pressing your eyes closed.

“See? You want us too,” Smiley stated softly, moving against that small, flickering flame, stoking it with a careful prod of his own interest. “All you need to do is open the door,” he whispered, tone low and deep. Almost… sultry.

You tried to pull away from their firm attention, from the surge in hunger that rammed through your skull, thick and heady. It was dizzying, too much at once and completely unexpected.

You shot up, painful sparks zapping in your back. Everywhere around you, the walls of the shed closed in on you. It was too small, akin to a cage with no space to get away from the windows, from the door. From them.

“Fuck off,” you hissed at the silhouette in the window, pulse thudding in your throat. “You hear me? Fuck. Off.”

Even through the blinds, he appeared unfazed, his frame remaining still. Only his arms lowered back to his sides. But in the bond, they stilled, almost perplexed. As if you didn't make sense.“You’ll come around. We’ll wait.”

And wait he did. He didn't move from his spot for a long time. It wasn’t the first time he did this. But now you were more self-conscious. You couldn’t easily pretend he wasn’t there anymore, sleep escaping you as your mind constantly circled back to the presence at the door. How unusually bright he shone in the link compared to the others.

Was it because you talked with him most before it all? Or simply because of proximity? Yet, despite his insistent posing, he didn’t mess with the link much.

With shivers crawling along your skin, you began experimenting with the link yourself. You sifted through the drudge, trying to focus solely on the monster at your door. His presence felt murky, but clearer than any other presence you passed over.

His head tilted. Curiosity pulsed against your mind in a nauseating tickle. Your head began pounding as you tried to push.

The creature only chuckled at your attempt. A tug snared around your being and you gasped, lurching forward in reflex. “You can’t push us away.”

You didn’t deign him with an answer, hope trembling as you opted to try and sleep. Que word: try. It escaped you, nagging impulses drawing your attention every time you were almost asleep. Frustration and fear simmering just beneath.

Even when birds began waking up, he didn’t leave. He stood there all night, quietly pressing up against the window. You could imagine the smile, the soulless stare that wanted to burn through the blinds.

“See you soon.” Came from your door, a single nail scraping down the wood outside. Then he finally left.

Smiley’s fading steps sunk heavy under your skin, the growing distance stretching the link thinner. It felt wrong. Like an elastic band pulled too tight, wanting to snap back together. You hadn’t realised before. Had only noticed the tugging subconsciously. An irritant you wrote off as being from pain and itchiness.

And you realised that’s why he stood close all night. To make you feel the absence. Make you vulnerable.

It was a game. It always was with them.

Hopelessly you raged on the inside.

But…

They hadn’t influenced you as of yet. Hadn’t controlled you like a puppet. You’d stay a few more nights in the shed just to be sure.

You clenched your fists together, feeling more pinpricks move further away.

Swiftly, you rushed over to the door, tearing the blind to the side. The tall ginger was already near the tree line. He paused. Turning slowly as if he had heard you. Sensed you. 

Even in the distance, you saw the grin.

Your heart slammed against your ribs, mouth turning dry. You couldn’t look away.

The softest, most miniscule tug came from your spine.

Your feet shifted forward before you realized they were moving.

Then you froze, horror seeping beneath your ribs. You lurched back, letting the curtain fall back in place.

A huff of sorts ghosted past the back of your neck. Amused, almost… fond.

You stumbled further away from the door.

You wouldn’t give in. You wouldn’t. Not now, not tomorrow, not even over the course of months. Because in a way, nothing had changed. Just surviving one more night. And then the next. That was the way things worked here.

And you strove to keep it that way.

Even as the carvings beneath your bandages pulsed faintly, almost like they had recognized a challenge. One they would win, if the dark curl around your throat meant anything.

You pressed a trembling hand to the bandages, shaky determination flowing in your veins. “Not tonight,” you whispered, fear threading through the words. “Not ever.”

Soft laughter brushed against your mind. Not one voice, but many.

Let them mock you. You clung to your defiance stubbornly.

Yet as their attention finally withdrew, that smug, slithering satisfaction lingering behind them, you couldn’t deny the cold dread pooling in your gut.

Because they hadn’t pushed.

They had barely needed to try.

Chapter Text

By some miracle you had managed to sleep some more. Restless, shallow and dream soaked, but sleep nonetheless. So when you woke up feeling like you didn’t rest up at all, you weren't surprised much.

You sat up, the sleeping bag slipping from your shoulders. The cold bit at your exposed neck. Not harsh enough to sting, but enough to tease you with the memory of the icy cold of the caves.

Frustration welled up fast like a storm inside you, begging for release. You dropped your head in your hands and forced back a scream.

Every waking moment your mind kept bounding back towards the fucking caves. Even as you slept they were there. It clung to you like mildew. It was maddening. That place wouldn’t let you go. It was as if a piece of you had gotten stuck there and lay buried in those damp, cold caverns.

And all you could scream inside your mind was why?

The monsters didn’t do random. That much you knew. 

They cooperated in strange, fluid ways, moving alongside one another as if guided by an unspoken agreement. And somehow, you had been folded into that connection of theirs.

For them to pick up a knife and wield it as a tool—

That was just not done. It was unprecedented.

You rubbed at your temple, trying to will the growing headache away.

There had to be a reason for their actions. A proper reason. Not the one Smiley gave. Something more was going on here, something larger. And you would find out what.

Almost unconsciously, you tugged at the bond. 

Like a snare being plucked, the motion reverberated outward, echoing through the spiderweb that connected you to them all.

Nothing answered.

More sweat poured down your back. Carefully, as if handling an open flame, you tried to draw away. Stretching. Testing its elasticity. You pulled until the carvings along your skin grew taut.

You clenched your teeth. Your limbs trembled with the effort, the headache spiking with every second that passed. A sharp, stinging pain seared deep inside you, crackling beneath your skin like live electricity. A dry retch tore from your throat.

And something noticed. 

You almost missed it at first. Until it slithered around you, coiling closer. Akin to a body pressing down just enough to still frantic thrashing.

It was barely forceful. It was wryly amused. The distant, indulgent amusement of someone watching a child fall after stubbornly trying to ride a bike on their own for the nth time.

Tears sprung to your eyes and you squeezed them shut. 

You allowed yourself a moment of weakness. 

Crying was no longer a private affair, but you won’t let them take this as well. So you let it all pour out. The grief, pain, anger and fear splotching in hot, messy trails down your skin and on the bed.

No creature intervened.

Eventually, you simply sat there, wrung out, but sturdier. More accepting that even Smiley hurt you. It wasn’t like you thought you’d be different, that they—that Smiley—would spare you. But you had never conceived this outcome.

Any interaction with the monsters led to death. Not… whatever this was.

You exhaled slowly, listening to laughter and conversation in the distance. Wind rustled leaves nearby, gentle and uncaring.

Your eyes cracked open, falling on that book beside you. 

A sense of pity panged in your chest for its protagonist.

Under different circumstances, you might have found it vaguely funny that the guy became a giant bug. But in truth, he became a burden. Trapped in a body that made him less than human.

A low growl came from your stomach, reminding you of its existence.

You wiped a hand over your face, grimacing when it came back slick with sweat.

Your heart raced uncomfortably fast. If you wanted food, you would need to go to the diner. You couldn’t cook in the shed. There were no utensils for that.

The small shed would likely catch fire anyway. Dealing with an angry Boyd was not on your to do list.

So with a great deal of stagnation blamed on discomfort from your wounds, you trailed towards the diner, pretending your fear was because of the ritual's effects. Not because you had to act like things were normal. 

Every glance thrown your way had your spine stiffen in reflex as you shuffled along. Every greeting was a strained act on your part. You made sure to cut off any conversation swiftly, smile tight at the edges. The growling emanating from your stomach a great excuse to leave.

A few people bustled about the diner. Either just leaving or smoking outside, the acrid scent curling in a thin mist through the air.

You stood at the threshold of the first door, keeping your head up even as you saw people through the windows notice you and stare. Your jaw tensed as you pushed it open.

The diner shushed the second you walked inside. The sound of cutlery stilled, voices shushed. Someone’s shoes scraped a little too loud over the floor as they shifted.

It had you freeze at the border of the entrance, feet rooted in place. There weren’t that many people, but their attention settled heavily on your person anyway.

You searched for the familiar in a scene that felt completely wrong now. Uncanny almost with the eyes turned your way, hushed conversations transpiring at your expense. There was sympathy, wariness, curiosity.

Nothing like the horrid, eager smiles your brain replaced them with.

Metallic clattering from behind the counter burst the awkward bubble apart. You met Tian-Chen’s eyes, grounding you back into reality. 

She motioned for you to come to the counter, saying something in Cantonese that you couldn’t translate. Her face was set in a stormy countenance. 

You gulped.

Just like that, people returned to their own conversations or food, removing the chokehold of their attention. No one wanted Tian-Chen’s ire turned towards them. They left you to your fate.

“Come, come,” she said, impatiently.

You shuffled closer to the food she had prepared, letting the door fall shut behind you. 

The scent of food and oil hung thick in the diner. Eggs, fruits, some kind of porridge and something else. It all smelled… strange. But you focussed on the woman before you, her disapproving countenance demanding your focus. 

“Tian-Chen,” you breathed, equally part nervous as happy to see her. No other words formulated on your tongue. You didn’t know what to say. Especially not with witnesses still acting like they weren’t interested in your presence. 

The woman seemed to deal with the attention far more graciously. Or just ignored it in favor of glaring at you “You not come yesterday,” she continued sharply, arms crossed. 

There was an accusation there. One she expected an explanation to. The big spoon in her hand served as a wonderful motivator. The woman wasn’t against wielding it as a weapon.

“Sorry, I was still, uh, disoriented,” you replied hastily, heat crawling up your cheeks. “Been a long few days.” Your smile grew wobbly, the bags under your eyes settling more prominently as your features sagged.

Tian-Chen watched you, stern frown softening slightly. “You sit. I bring to you,” she ordered in a no-nonsense tone.

“Thank you,” you whispered after a short moment, fighting the urge to reassure her you could grab your own food. She would not appreciate that and likely just persist. 

Tian-Chen nodded, going to the back of the diner.

You plopped down at a table on your lonesome, back turned to most of the people inside the diner. A nervous prickle traced like a sharp nail down your spine. Despite the layers between the carvings and the open air, you felt exposed.

You were thankful that the attention of the people in the diner had drifted away as you waited. Their wonder was understandable. Surviving out there at night was pretty much improbable.

Tian-Chen came with a plate of food not soon after you sat down. A mug of tea placed beside it. Your preferred tea. You looked up at her, slightly choked up. You began to thank her again, but she wasn’t having it, speaking in Cantonese dismissively. 

“Eat,” was the last thing she commanded, more gently this time, before returning behind the counter. 

You allowed a small smile to grace your face, taking a sip of the freshly prepared and far too hot tea. The burning sensation was welcome, combined with the familiar, if a little bitter, taste.

Such a simple thing, yet it made you feel slightly more human. Made the aching wounds seem slightly less relevant.

The scent of the food infiltrated your nostrils. Too sharp, spices stinging your eyes as you blinked rapidly. It was a peculiar thing and not what held your attention the most at the moment. 

It was the taste as you took your first bite. The sense of care. And for a second you could believe everything might just turn out fine… ish. Fine-ish.

Of course, such moments were always short-lived here. But with your back turned to everyone and the link silent, it was easy to relax for a moment and enjoy your food. 

Your feet carried you towards the clinic for that daily check-up soon after breakfast. The fresh morning air floated like a balm inside your lungs. Cold, but not too cold. Just enough to clear your mind.

You looked up. The sky was overcast, clouds keeping the sun's rays at bay. It suited you fine. The light stung sometimes now. A change you hoped had nothing to do with the enhanced sight you seemed to harbor. 

But then again, the monsters were nocturnal. 

If… If you were becoming like them—

You shut that train of thought down hard. 

No. You were human. You bled and felt pain.

That’s exactly why you were going towards Kristi. Because you were busy recovering.

The trip there was uneventful. Some people wandered about, but plenty were probably still in bed. Keeping a normal daily rhythm here was a chore in itself. Despite everything, routine often slipped through people’s fingers. There wasn’t much reason to keep one.

You sighed, wondering if Kristi would even let you do any work with your back. Right now, you didn't want to be alone with your thoughts. With that buzz in the back of your mind. A distraction would be nice.

The old school building turned medical clinic sat at the edge of the forest, up a sandy path. 

It was creepy. A place meant for kids, pressed so close to the trees. Still, there weren’t many kids here, thankfully. Perhaps a small mercy. Meagan’s death hit the town hard. Made people more withdrawn. 

You yourself weren’t too eager to bond with Ethan now either.

Kristi wasn’t at the front when you went inside. The door creaked shut with a resolute thud. Hesitantly, you stepped deeper inside the building.

Rapid footsteps sounded ahead and Kristi rounded the corner. Sporting a new… haircut? 

“Hey,” she said, "here for your check-up?”

You nodded with a small smile. “I had some questions too,” you said, casting a subtle glance down the hall. There were shuffling sounds deeper inside the building. You had to be careful with your words. “About how to take care of the scratches.”

Her expression sobered. “Yeah, we’ll go to the back.”

She led you into a private room. Soon enough, the bandages were removed, leaving the sore skin exposed.

“You got a new haircut?"

“Yeah, Marielle cut it for me,” Kristi visibly brightened at her fiance’s mention. 

“How sweet of her,” you said. Best not to give your honest opinion on the cut if she’s this enthusiastic about it. Maybe you just needed to get used to the change. “Must be weird to meet again like this.”

Her hands faltered for a second against your back. “...It’s not ideal, no,” she admitted quietly. “I’m really glad to see her, but… this wasn’t how I imagined it,” she finished quietly. Kristi cleared her throat. “Now, you had questions? About the cuts?”

“Not exactly.” You turned to her, swallowing nervously.  “I wanted to tell you something they did.”

The air around her grew serious. Almost grim.

“They put something in the wounds. Some kind of bodily fluid. From their stomach.” You gestured vaguely where they’d punctured themselves, one by one, wolfish smiles pressing closer, the liquid dripping from their hands— 

You blinked the memory away, keeping your eyes trained on Kristi’s worried ones.

“It was yellow—”

“Bile,” Kristi immediately said. “It’s from the gallbladder.”

“A waste product.” You muttered with a grimace. “Do you think it means anything? Why that?”

“I don’t know. There’s not much we know about them at all. None of this makes sense.”

The conversation lulled, Kristi wrapping the wounds, lost in thought. Your own thoughts had begun spiralling. The cuts hadn’t gotten infected. Hadn’t even swollen much. That alone was odd. 

Was it more akin to some kind of… transfer? Were the carvings the opening and the bile the connector?

If so…

“No,” Kristi’s voice cut in sharply. “I know that face. Whatever you’re planning, no.” 

You huffed softly. “Can’t anyway,” you muttered. Blood dialysis wasn’t possible without proper equipment. Would probably serve no purpose anyway. Things never could just be easy here.

“Good,” she said firmly. “This doesn’t need to get any worse.”

You nodded, though unease crawled along your spine. “At least now we know what it was.”

That didn’t make it feel any better. She didn’t know about the changes. Your improved sight worried you. No one else reported something like this happening. Ever.

The only one who may know something would be Victor. 

“How are the cuts?” You asked, feeling faint just thinking about it. “I… didn't see them yet.”

Kristi thought for a moment, features twisting. “They’re healing quickly. The cuts aren't very deep, but deep enough that they’ll scar.” She gave you an apologetic look. “You’ll probably experience pulling sensations as the scar tissue tightens over time.”

The faintness worsened, blurring the edge of your vision. A sharp plucking sensation pulled your vertebrae straight followed by something like a giggle echoing in the back of your mind.

“Hey, you okay?” Kristi asked, suddenly sounding far away.

You slid off the bed too fast, snatching your vest and forcing your arms through the sleeves. White-hot pain shot along your shoulders from your rapid motions. "Yup. Totally. Never better. Glad to hear they’re permanent.”

Kristi caught your wrists, stopping your frantic quest to button up. “Hey. I get it, but things will get better—”

“Easy to say when you got your fiancée back,” you snapped. And immediately regretted it when her face fell. 

You swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, that’s… that wasn’t fair. I’m just–,” your voice wavered. "I'm scared.”

She took a slow breath. “I don’t blame you,” Kristi said quietly. “But Marielle being here isn’t a happy ending. It just means I have more to lose.” She paused, gaze faltering. “Knowing she could be killed every night isn’t easy.”

Then she continued more softly. “You shouldn’t go through this alone.”

You rubbed your eyes. “I’ll try.” The only one who may understand a little was Boyd. And he had enough to deal with as the town’s sheriff already.

She gave you a slight smile. “You can always come to me, okay?”

You nodded, giving a smile back. “Thanks, Kristi.” You glanced at the clock. The day was nowhere close to being over. “Guess you won’t let me gather herbs?”

She huffed, finding it incredulous you even asked. “Of course not. You’re resting,” she said sternly.

“Shame.”

A smile was shared between you two, something warm nestling in your chest.

“Kristi?” A woman’s voice suddenly rang out. You blinked. Steps got closer to the door as Kristi answered.

“Kristi, there’s someone here–” She cut herself off, eyes flickering towards you. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were treating someone.”

You stood up with a polite smile. “It’s fine. We were just done,” you reassured her. “Are you Marielle?”

“Yeah,” she reached to shake your hand, lips tilting in an awkward smile, bags sat like bruises under her eyes. You gave her your name. “Nice to meet you.”

After that no one said anything for a while, eyes merely locked onto one another. Your brain too frazzled to think of something to say. 

From the looks of it, hers wasn’t doing much better.

Until Kristi thankfully cleared her throat, breaking the silent spell of uneasy interaction. “Tomorrow, same time?”

You nodded, leaving afterwards with a quick goodbye. Whatever was between them seemed a bit strained. Perhaps that’s understandable considering their situation.

Shoving your hands in your pants pockets, you walked back to town on impulse. It would be a boring day, you predicted.

Except, your mind lingered on the pull. Something you could do all day now without any tasks. 

It had physically tugged your spine straight. Or more so that it gave you the impulse to do so, and you blindly followed along. 

If they didn’t make their presence so obvious, you might not even notice it’s them. Would think it was your own brain supplying the impulse.

A shiver shook your frame.

Being lost in thought, you barely acknowledged anyone passing by.

That’s how you rationalized the jump in your step when someone called your name. 

Turning revealed a surprising sight. Jim slowly approached you. You glanced back towards the clinic with a confused frown. Shouldn’t he be there? Not too long ago he was stuck under a collapsed building.

The way he walked showed he was definitely in pain. His features were tight and pale.

Regardless, you stopped walking, letting him shuffle closer. For someone who had to have been pretty banged up, he walked surprisingly well. Then again, you were doing ridiculously fine yourself, considering your own wounds.

“Hey, how have you been?” he asked once he got close, much to your continuing surprise. The man wasn’t known for being particularly talkative with many people in town. Usually he kept to himself and his family. “I heard what happened.”

“Pretty okay all things considered. What about you? You know after the whole… shebang,” you finished with an internal wince. Man, that was downright awful.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He appeared a little distracted thankfully, focusing more on his surroundings than your stellar social skills. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he continued in a hushed tone, gaze returning to you. “You were out there, right? At night?”

You nodded slowly, shuffling in place, already disliking where this was going. 

His blue eyes searched yours. “This is probably nothing important, but did you notice anything strange?”

A frown marred your brows. “Strange? Strange how?”

“Those things scream at night. Did you notice where it came from? Maybe a pattern to it.”

“I… No, not really. I wasn't really focussed on that.”

He nodded. “That makes sense. Do you maybe remember where the ditch was, though?”

Nerves fluttered in your chest. Unpleasantly so. You’d known someone would ask eventually, but you thought someone close to you would. Not him. He barely knew you. “Look, Jim, I don't really want to think about this. I’m just glad to be alive.”

A twinge of awareness whispered along your spine, a trickle that felt faintly like annoyance. You had to fight to keep your face blank. Did they see your life in their dreams as well? Did they even dream? Or was one of them awake?

You couldn’t feel anything else in the link.

“I understand. It must’ve been rough. Sorry to bring it up.” Jim began backing up. “If you do remember anything you want to share, I’d like to know.” 

You nodded, watching after his retreating form as he headed back towards his current home.

Your heart still thudded loudly as you followed the road into town a short while later. The guy was a bit unnerving. The idea that he was prodding at the cover-up story left a bad taste in your mouth. 

After the whole thing with the radio tower—and Tabitha apparently digging a hole through their basement—he didn’t seem to have learned that asking questions painted a target on his back. At least it appeared that way. It seemed very convenient for the house to collapse close to sundown.

Asking questions while already brushing up against whatever ran this place was just begging for more trouble.

Especially when you were connected to the monsters yourself.

Not that he knew that.

From what you gathered, the voices told Sara to kill Ethan on top of everything else. Maybe something here just had it out for the Matthews.

You suppressed a snort. Yeah, right. Everyone here had a target on their back. 

Yours was just a little more literal. 

Nonetheless, you felt compelled to stay away from the guy. You’d rather not get dragged into whatever he was poking at next.

You almost considered going to Kenny, but he was dealing with a lot of crap as well right now.

With a sigh, you merely settled on aimlessly wandering about and reading until the day passed.

Maybe thinking would be good for you. To sort things out and everything.

When night covered the town and stars peeked out, you sat rod straight on the mattress. Just like the day before, they prodded at you, checked up on you. A faint sense of satisfaction shimmered beneath your skin, low and invasive.

Whatever had them pleased, you didn’t know.

You refrained from prodding back. Maybe you should try that during the day more often instead. See how they liked it.

A pot of coffee sat on the floor beside you. You took another swig from your cup. The washed-out excuse of coffee here left much to be desired, but caffeine was caffeine. You likely needed it to stay awake all night.

Another tug twinged along your spine, sharp enough to make you flinch. Maybe you should’ve gone for potato vodka instead. A courtesy to the bartender they took from you all.

You hadn’t known the man very well, but he’d left a vacancy behind regardless. 

It was always strange, realizing a face would never appear again.

Especially this one.

You adjusted the oil lamp in your lap, taking comfort in the soft warmth radiating through the metal hull and into your palms.

Tonight, you were gearing up to interrogate whatever monsters deemed to visit your shed. Even though you were prepared for silence, for lies, for nothing at all.

They weren’t generous with their knowledge.

You’ve tried to get them to open up before. 

Getting answers from them was akin to pulling teeth. Painful, difficult and not worth the blood.

But this might be different.

This didn’t revolve around escape routes or origins. Not about how to leave and why they were here. That they slept in the caves was pretty much the only significant thing you learned with your questioning. 

You drained the remainder of the coffee down, hoping they’d grace you with their presence soon. The sooner it could start, the sooner it’d be done. Even so, nervous flutters stirred in your stomach. You hadn’t touched the pebble by the door. Hadn’t acknowledged it at all. How would Smiley react to that? You hadn’t rejected his “gifts” in a long, long time. 

Months.

You’d been here for months. 

Close to a year now.

The thought hollowed you out.

Alcohol really would’ve been better. Who knows, maybe it dulled the connection too. An experiment worth trying.

Fatigue claimed you in your wait. Your head nodded forward, jerking you awake in short, startled bursts.

So when soft rapping brushed against glass, it barely registered. Your mind, in its halfway gone state, filed it away as if part of a dream.

Someone called your name, jerking you fully awake. 

Your eyes snapped open, heat flaring in your chest as the voice grated along your nerves. Your gaze locked in on the feminine silhouette at your door. For a second, you considered ignoring her, but it wasn’t like you were particularly eager to speak to any of them. Setting the lamp down, you rose and crossed the shed, floorboards creaking beneath your bare feet.

The knocking stopped instantly.

A sharp, eager thrill rippled along your ribs. Your stomach turned in response.

Was she alone this time?

Sometimes she wasn’t. Her partner in crime would be right there with her, with one taking the lead in their harassment of you. The other would mostly just watch. Watching was all they did, some nights.

How many times had you thought, you’d be facing a single monster, only to pull back the curtains on two smiling veneers staring inside.

So you steeled yourself. Two were harder to deal with than one. 

Gripping the edge of the thin fabric, you drew it aside quickly, like ripping off a bandaid in one go to avoid the slow sting.

“Well, hello there,” the handbag lady chirped, smile already stretched wide. “It’s been far too long, wouldn’t you say?”

You carefully glanced behind her, but no other monster lurked nearby. No “man” standing lazily close by, thumbs hooked in his belt in a mockery of a cowboy’s stance.

“Not long enough,” you muttered, more so to yourself. 

From the way her lips twitched up a fraction, she heard anyway.

“You know,” she piped up, lightly tilting her head, “hurting yourself isn’t going to make a difference.”

Shock punched through you, your eyes widening involuntarily as they snapped back to hers.

Blood crept from your face. 

How did she–?

“It’s better to accept this,” she continued smoothly, "and come with us.” 

Her smile didn’t change in any way. Still static, bright. Wrong.

You scrambled to recover and forced a scoff. “How kind that you’re giving me a choice this time.” The words trembled slightly at the end.

Her lips stretched impossibly wider, eyes glittering. “Isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately,” you said, voice tight, “I’ll have to decline. Hope you understand.”

She nodded, mock solemn. “Even so, everyone has a clock ticking.” Her gaze lingered. “You of all people should know that,” she cooed, leaning in closer.

Stabbing pain lanced through your chest. 

That grin, that sickly, saccharine grin, was the one she wore when she took your friend from your grasp.

And if things kept escalating—

How many more faces would vanish?

How many more vacancies would be left behind?

And that hole in your heart caved further in, her words tearing any healing process apart. Tears wanted to form in your eyes, but you forced them back.

She wouldn’t see anymore of them. Not if you had a say in it. Your grief wasn’t for them to gawk at like some grotesque circus act. It was bad enough they could feel it.

So you glared instead, shoulders tensing. “I hope you got one too then,” you spat.

“You know we don’t.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. As casual as if stating the weather and not a devastating truth.

No matter how many they took from you, revenge was impossible. 

It left a bitter, ashen taste in your mouth.

“We’ll always be here,” she said softly. Comforting. Close to being kind.

It only made your skin crawl. 

“Well then,” she chirped, bright again, “have fun, you two.” She lifted a hand and waved, turning away before your stunned mind could catch up to the words.

You two?

Your mouth parted, breath hitching as you started to call after her—

A shift of movement snapped your attention sideways.

A masculine figure slid into view from just beyond the doorframe. The brim of his hat caught the distant glow from the street lights, shadowing his bland smile.

The cowboy tipped his hat, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. They reflected the sliver of light inside your shed like glass, giving them an eerie glow.

“Evening, sweetheart,” he drawled. 

You stared at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you blurted out, “I know I called you a creep, but really? Eavesdropping? That’s low.”

“We didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he replied in a tone that made it painfully obvious he was bullshitting. “Besides, maybe I was just walking over to say hello.”

You opened your mouth, but stopped. 

This is what he wanted. What they wanted. Keep you off balance. Then you’d be more prone to make mistakes.

“Then my point about you being a creep still stands,” you said flatly. “Sneaking around like that.”

As if the lingering touches hadn't already been evidence enough. The way he made them feel natural.

He was watching you far too closely, eyes flickering at any small, unconscious shift you made.

“You’ve been wondering why we did this.”

Your heart jolted. The hope was foolish, but— “Are you going to tell me?” Your gaze darted between his eyes as if to carve the truth from those empty pools.

“You already know what you’ll have to do for answers,” he replied easily, tipping his chin towards the door handle.

Heat burned behind your eyes. Frustration tangled with grief, helplessness tightening your throat. You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms. The headband lady had left you unstable. And he was far too perceptive for comfort. 

Every raw wound felt exposed under his calm scrutiny.

“At least tell me why you need me at the cave?” you asked. And you wished it didn’t come out so desperate. So shaky. "In that nest."

They hadn’t killed you. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t in the future. What if it was all an elaborate game and they’d kill you the second you stopped being interesting?

Something darkened in his eyes. A shift intense enough to make you swallow. 

The creatures let his arms fall to his sides, something predatory in their positioning. “Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured, his smile turning more genuine. More twisted. “You should watch your words. Especially with that tone.” 

You blinked at him, headache addled brain lagging a bit. Then the implication hit. 

Warmth flared up your cheeks, his firm attention all the more suffocating.

Oh God. 

Did he think…?

“You don’t get to twist this,” you rushed out. “It was a simple question.”

He didn't say anything for a good while, letting the tension stretch. “If you want an answer, you’ll have to come outside,” he said quietly. “It would be my pleasure to…” he tilted his head, feigning thought, “guide you there.”

With the way his voice lowered, you knew he wasn’t talking about walking you over. 

Heat shimmered under your skin, unexpected and vivid. For all the times you spoke, he never… teased like this before. Not so directly.

“I don’t even know your name,” you said flatly, stomping the flames in your belly down. “So cut the crap.”

“We don’t have any,” he replied. “You know that.”

“There’s not much I know,” you relented after a moment. “Can’t you just throw me a bone here?” 

He blinked, pausing, his confusion obvious after the months spent studying him. Even he didn’t always grasp subtext. You had almost forgotten. 

He had learned so much from talking with you, you suddenly realised. Your mouth dried up.

Were you turning them into more effective predators? Helping them mimic humans better?

“Give me anything,” you clarified after tuning back into the conversation. “Even a scrap of information.”

The link suddenly sparked to life, flaring from where you only now realised it had dulled.

Your mind was still reeling because of the handbag lady and the weird "flirting". And now their collective emotions slammed into you all at once, smashing through your skull like a baseball bat. Your body physically recoiled, vision warping, ears ringing.

His gaze held you captive. His pupils had blown wide, swallowing nearly all the blue.

Sweat beaded on your temple. You were unable to look away. 

A strangled sound tore from your lips.

Something akin to a steadying hand pressed against your mind, wiping the noise away in an instant. Your senses snapped back into place, clarity flooding you so fast it was dizzying. 

That enough of a bone for you? His smug smile said the rest.

His voice cut clean through the haze, “seems you got quite the downgrade.”

The creature had taken his hat off. A pretense of politeness. 

What a dick.

Even with your thoughts returned, words wouldn’t come.

Fear sank its claws deep beneath your ribs, cinching tight around your heart.

The extent of control they held over the link was proving to be nightmarish. 

You forced the shock from your face, pulling on an unaffected mask. The faint lift of his brows told you he noticed.

“It’s only temporary,” you said, playing along with the topic change. “And better than what you offered.” The words cracked, voice thick with restrained hysteria.

They could influence your mood. Could control how much shone through from their side.

But you couldn’t hide anything from them.

Nothing at all.

It terrified you.

A slide of calculation smoothed along your conscience. Unashamed and bright. The cowboy didn’t bother to hide. He didn't look offended. If anything, he appeared as frustratingly amused as ever.

His gaze drifted past you, sweeping lazily over the barren shed. It lingered on the bedding. 

Despite yourself, something like shame wanted to curl under your skin. As if showing a messy room to a friend, or worse, a potential partner.

Not that he was either, your mind hastily added.

“I thought we wouldn't lie to one another,” he said lightly. “Remember that?”

“I remember you saying no one would hurt me either,” you shot back. Not lying to eachother had been completely sarcastic on your part. As if you would believe they wouldn't lie.

His grin smoothened. “And you’re still walking, aren’t you? Always running with you,” he mused thoughtfully.

“A natural instinct when seeing your creepy grins.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he continued, unperturbed by your childish insult. “You don’t always have to carry that pain inside you.”

That touch from before wormed towards the gaping hole in your chest, just shy of taking it away.

As if waiting for permission.

You wanted to scoff, almost lashed out, but then you really studied him. The smug lilt in his voice. The crinkle in his smile.

He was enjoying this.

“I don’t know what game you fuckers are playing, but I’m not having it,” you hissed at him. “I won’t let you use me.”

“And yet,” he murmured, lowering his head, “you didn’t tell them the truth.” 

Your teeth clicked shut.

“Do you think they’ll keep protecting you once they find out?” His tone dropped, more intimate. Softer. "That Boyd will?”

You inhaled slowly, closing your eyes for a moment. Just long enough to think. Just so you didn't have to see him.

You knew what he meant. The improved sight. The inhuman changes.

The emotions jittering through you each screamed for attention. Even foreign ones, flowing in via small thrums. But a thread of clarity sat just beyond it. You grabbed it, cramming the overwhelming sensations away in a little box.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly, opening your eyes again. 

The link went carefully still. His face remained unchanged however. 

Figures. Even in the link he’d be hard to read.

“What I want to know,” you said, forcing confidence in the bluff, “is your end goal. Because you did this before.” The things he said at the cave, their coordination. They had to have done this before.

You shifted closer to the window, his eyes tracking your every movement. 

Something brushed along your spine. Possessive, lazy.

You were helpless to stop it, but stood your ground against the invasive touch.

“Maybe you’re the only one,” he answered at last.

In other words, he wouldn’t answer. Typical. Yet disappointment panged in your chest anyway.

Another thing worth trying to pry out of them lingered on your mind. “What about Boyd? None of you seemed to like me touching him specifically.”

His smirk widened, making you tense. Nothing good ever came from that expression. “And you listened,” he purred, pressing closer to the window.

You refrained from instinctively moving back. Your heart did a flip flop from his proximity, brain latching on to the seductive drawl.

Until his words registered. The hormonal outburst crashed instantly. 

Because he was right. 

You had ceased to touch Boyd in part due to them practically baring their teeth at the aforementioned man. Or at whatever infected him.

The fragile shed creaked, a gust of wind rattling the panes. For a second you worried the glass would burst, letting the creature inside.

Said creature appeared content simply watching you. Unblinking, smug.

Your blood boiled, realising he was just toying with you.

“If none of you are going to answer,” you snapped, “then fuck off.” You yanked the blinds shut over his face, stomping back to the bed.

You didn't get far before his voice called your name. “Where will you go once they throw you out, sweetheart?”

You froze. Your head twisted back. His voice lingered, velvet and sticky as honey.

“There’s only us.” He paused, placing his hat back on. “And we can wait.”

His shape receded from the shed, shoes crunching softly against the gravel. You listened until the sound of his casual strut faded into the night. 

But his presence didn’t. 

It coiled around you like a leash strung tight. There was nothing playful about it. Nothing like Smiley or even the handbag lady. This was something different entirely. An oppressive certainty.

He wasn’t merely assured you’d be caught again.

He knew you would be.

And you could only guess what would happen once they did.

In hindsight, speaking to the monsters like they were people had been a grave mistake on your part. 

One you were still paying for.

Even back in the beginning, you’d only wanted answers. 

There had been a strange fascination with them, with this uncanny, humanoid species. Your arrogance told you curiosity didn’t equal vulnerability. It said you would never perceive them as people. Swore you’d never fall for their tricks.

You’d prodded at them about their appearance. Whether they learned to mimic humans or were always like this.

Yet, despite their shape, they never fully bothered pretending to be human. 

If they had…

You would’ve died on your first night.

Because luck dictated you arrive close to evening, when the sun was slipping behind the horizon.

Like so many before you, you’d been on your way to a holiday. Packaged lightly for your short trip, you had taken only the necessities with you. You took that strange, little book with you for the wait at the airport and the flight itself.

But you never arrived at the meeting point with your friends.

Instead, you stumbled upon the tree. 

Its barren branches cast warped shadows under the car’s headlights. Crows sat perched on its branches, beady eyes staring you down. They surged upwards in unsettling numbers, cawing loudly, their behavior unsettling and wrong. They chased you back into your car before you even understood why.

Your phone had no signal. No call went through. Nor could you backtrack where you had gotten lost. The road stretched endlessly ahead, and the clock on your dashboard ticked on with cruel indifference.

It left you frazzled. The airplane would leave in two hours and you didn’t know where you were.

Lost and alone in the dark, your panic mounted.

So when you drove into the town, you didn’t notice the discrepancies right away. Not the broken down cars. Not the chipped painting. Nor the unusual stillness hanging over everything like a strained breath.

You were just glad to see civilization. Someone here must know the way you had reasoned.

That’s why you stopped for the first stranger you came across in the town, making sure the doors remained locked and the window rolled down only a crack. Your hindbrain warned you something was… off about the blonde girl standing at the roadside. Maybe it was because she just stood there. Waiting. Watching.

As if she’d been expecting you. 

The thought was shoved aside as night-induced paranoia. The girl looked like she barely weighed two pounds soaking wet.

But her eyes followed you the whole time. Not the car. 

You.

Her large eyes fixed on you with laser-like precision. Her pupils had been huge. You couldn't even see what color her eyes were. It had your hackles raise all the more. Someone under influence could be unpredictable.

“Hey,” you called out to her, forcing a polite smile as you rolled to a stop. You could always gas it if she tried something, “could you help me find the highway?”

Your smile faltered the longer she just… stared. 

Her arm eventually lifted to point down the road, deeper into town.

“...So, straight ahead?”

She didn’t answer, but the corner of her lips turned up.

For some reason, your mouth went dry. 

You nodded as if she had given confirmation. Then you quickly drove off, not even bothering with rolling the window back up.

In the rearview mirror, she hadn’t moved an inch. She only turned her head, tracking your car until she vanished from sight.

“What a fucking weirdo,” you muttered, fingers tight around the steering wheel.

The further you drove into the town, the more worried you got. Belatedly, you began observing all the oddities. The flat tires. The boarded windows. Some broken, many deliberately blinded. Houses that looked lived-in and abandoned all at once. As if the occupants had tried desperately to erase themselves.

You averted your eyes, swallowing as you dared to press harder on the pedal. You’d laugh about this with your friends later. Tell the story of your creepy detour at the airport.

The road curved as you neared the forest, and relief crashed through you, seeing the end of the town—

Only for it to die instantly.

Your sigh of relief choked off as you had to slam the brakes.

Someone stood in the middle of the road.

Tires screeched as the car skidded to a jostling halt, the seatbelt biting hard into your chest, squeezing the air from your lungs.

Taking a few gasping breaths, one hand flew to your head as you tried to wrap your mind around what just happened.

And around the idiocy of the man before you. 

Then you saw his face. 

His smile sat wide and fucking creepy on his pale face. His hawk-like stare would’ve had you shrinking back usually. But you were frazzled, pissed and in the safety of your car at that moment.

You glared at the redhead, breathing around your racing heart. Motherfucker almost gave you a heart attack. You briskly signaled for him to get out of the way, hand movement sharp and dismissive.

He only deemed to blink at you.

“Unbelievable, what a jackass,” you grumbled, throwing the car in reverse, turning sharply to move around the dumbass—

He stepped into your path again.

You stopped, your heart dropping to your stomach.

His smile widened, reminding you of a hyena with the feral edge it contained. 

Movement caught your eye.

In the rearview mirror, the blonde girl was walking toward you. 

You swiveled your head, spotting more figures emerging from the side. All smiling. A few dressed strangely.

The ginger started towards your car as well.

Cold terror flooded your veins.

They were boxing you in. 

Something primal took over, heart pounding like a stampede in your chest.

Your hands tore at the seatbelt, fingers clumsy with panic. You managed to click it loose and ripped it off. You burst from the car, door slamming open with a protesting groan, and staggered backward as they closed in. Slow, unhurried, relentless.

Your gaze darted wildly. 

A barn sat behind you. Weathered and old looking. But no-one was there. 

You backed toward it, desperate to create space.

Down the street, more people slowly ambled towards your location.

“Y-you think this is funny?” you yelled at the ones closest to you. “Huh?”

None replied. They just kept coming

As your heel brushed the barn, a startled moo sounded from inside. The animals inside seemed restless, as if a predator was nearby and they desired nothing more than to flee.

Shuffling came from the side.

Your limbs froze. 

A man stepped out from beside the structure. One dressed as a fucking milkman, smiling pleasantly. Another dressed as a mechanic followed not far behind.

A whimper threatened to tumble from your lips.

“Hey!” someone called out, sharp and urgent. Your head snapped toward the gas station.

A man stood in the doorway, tense fear written all over his features. He waved frantically, head swiveling like he was terrified just standing there. “Over here!”

Your legs snapped into action before your mind caught up. You stumbled his way, barely avoiding the milkman and mechanic. And only because you tripped over your own feet, putting you out of reach. You scrambled back up.

Your eyes never left the stranger.

His was the only face without that horrible smile. Even with fear twisting his features, it felt more trustworthy. More real.

None of your pursuers rushed to catch up.

But a woman’s voice rang out, clear as crystal, “running won’t always save you, sweetie.”

Her words hit you like a brick. For a split second, doubt nearly sent you veering away from the man, eyes turning towards the forest. Because what if he belonged with them?

You didn’t have time to decide.

You reached him just as an elderly woman stepped into view from behind the station. 

A startled scream ripped from your throat.

“Oh,” she cooed, smiling in a way only a grandmother could. But her eyes were so… marble-like. Empty, glinting. Something knowing glittered in them. "Isn't this a surprise?”

Before she, or any other of the creepy fuckers, could close the distance, the man grabbed you by the arm and yanked you inside. The door slammed shut, his hands frantically locking it.

Frantic breaths rushed from your chest. The air smelled stale and of alcohol. Not of gasoline like it should.

The man leaned back against the door, sweat coating his skin. He let out a breathless, incredulous laugh, raking a hand through damp hair, and tried to explain the shitstorm you had landed in.

Tom.

His name was Tom.

Someone who had tried to comfort you that first night the only way he knew—by offering distraction with alcohol and conversation while the fucks outside wandered.

And now he was dead. The one who saved you was dead.

And the creatures who killed him had you on a leash. 

Pulling, prodding, observing. Their presences swirling around your mind, each way too invested, way too close.

A sick realization crept in.

What if this had always been the plan?

What if you were chosen from the get go?

You rummaged through your memories, one by one. Every encounter you had with them. Every indescribable look.

Until one particular memory refused to let go.

Colony House had very little privacy for its inhabitants. Sharing a room or even a hallway in lieu of a bedroom was common.

One girl had gotten way too high after smoking weed for the first time. You’d ended up babysitting her while she panicked through heart palpitations and nausea. You stayed with her, kept her breathing steadily, talked her through it.

Her body had gone limp, muscles slack under the drug’s weight. The only mercy was that she hadn’t eaten anything. Otherwise she’d have vomited all over the floor.

The girl, Trudy, was the only other person in the room. And she was dead to the world. A little too literally now.

That night, despite being on the second floor, a monster tried to speak to you.

Not lure you outside.

No. 

Speak.

The creature kept knocking and knocking. Loud enough that you couldn’t ignore him. He kept going until you snapped and threatened to throw a chair through the window to make him fall from the roof. 

The knocking stopped.

After an hour or so, he began again, making you pinch the bridge of your nose.

No-one ever warned you the monsters could be fucking annoying.

You left the dark-haired girl where she rested on the floor. A pillow shoved under her head. A blanket thrown over her shoulders.

You ripped the curtain aside, ready to give the monster a piece of your mind—

But the predatory grin on the tall figure outside killed your bravado instantly. His raised fist lowered back to his side.

“Hello,” the redhead greeted, smiling sharply.

Chapter Text

The moon’s gentle light peered past the creature's shoulders to shine inside, its shimmer settling across your face in a tender caress. Somewhere in the mansion, voices carried upstairs. Too loud, slurred with drunkenness. And close to gaining Donna’s wrath once the night reached its darkest hours. 

A creature howled in the distance, long and high-pitched, piercing through any illusion of normalcy the afterparty left in its wake.

Your eyes wouldn’t stray from the monster in front of you. 

His gaze was just as unsettling as the first time. 

You swallowed, fingers clutching the curtain like a lifeline where you’d shoved it aside. 

You should draw it shut. Forget ever doing this. Your grip tightened on the rough, stringy fabric. But as if hypnotised by the monster's stare, your body refused to move. 

Like a deer in headlights.

It spoke your name softly. So softly, it left you stunned. 

“How have you been?” he asked.

Your jaw twitched. You shouldn’t talk to it. It was an unspoken rule not to. 

You’d already broken it once. Morbid curiosity drove you forward. You just had to ask about their true faces, itching for confirmation of their monstrous nature.

The old lady hadn’t answered any questions. Only crooned about being cold and wishing to come inside.

As if the mansion, with its broken windows and thin walls, held any real warmth. Only humidity and the sour stench of sweat lingered after parties like this.

She probably wouldn’t have liked that, you thought wryly.

Behind you, Trudy still lay where she collapsed. Unmoving, quiet. 

Your nose scrunched up.

…Sweaty.

You began to speak, to say goodbye to the creature. Which meant telling it to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine—

“Are you worried about her?” the creature interrupted smoothly. “She took your blanket, didn’t she?”

Something incredulous crossed your face. “And that’s reason not to worry?” you hissed before you could stop yourself.  

Regret flared immediately.

Even more so when his eyes crinkled. It got you and he knew it.

A crash echoed from downstairs, drunken laughter following it. Someone yelled soon after. Probably whoever was in charge of keeping things from spiralling. Someone always had to be in charge.

It wouldn’t do to have some drunkard smashing a window through after all. Heck, some guy had been drunk enough once he tried to piss outside. At night.

Footsteps soon thundered downstairs. As predicted, Donna’s voice tore into the offenders. Any remaining laughter died real fast.

If you weren't currently in a stare down, you might’ve chuckled.

“I’ve seen humans fight over far less,” he—it, you reminded yourself—said mildly.

Your brows shot up, offended despite the accuracy of the creature's observation. You opened your mouth—

“Does that hurt your feelings?”

A scoff escaped you. “Stop filling things in for me.”

“Then hide better.”

The words caught you off guard. You studied him warily “What?”

“Hide better,” he repeated, smile easing, something unreadable settling in its gaze. “You are so loud and open. Anyone could notice what you feel.”

At the time, you wondered why he’d offer advice. Why he’d felt content just standing there afterwards the rest of the night. But now—

You are so loud and open.

You’re loud when you do.

The repetition sent a chill through you. The same warning given shortly after the ritual, but more subtle the second time around. You didn’t notice at all.

Come to think of it, you swore that blonde girl said something along those lines too. Both creatures commented on your emotional state sometimes. You always believed it was to mock. 

Now however… You weren’t so sure.

Could it have been that they had been preparing you for this link? As farfetched as it was.

You slid down on your mattress. 

Maybe you were reading too much into this. But that piece of advice had been so unexpected. So bluntly delivered. It certainly couldn’t be out of kindness. No matter how your heart jumped to that naive conclusion. 

It likely was to prolong their fun.

Or simply because a human constantly screaming through the link like a banshee was annoying.

Not that they’d shown signs of being irritated. Quite the opposite, really.

Even so, it had been about your physical reactions back then. Not your literal inner life. You didn’t even know where to begin when it came to hiding yourself within the bond.

But the creatures could do it.

Did that mean you could as well?

You carefully leaned back against the wall, the back of your head thumping against the wood with a near inaudible thud. You licked your dry lips.

All this time you’d focused outward. Their emotions, their lingering presence. They had occupied every corner of your thoughts.

Just like now.

The cowboy’s presence still loomed, entwined with yours like a beast’s tail wrapped around its prize.

…Or a lasso. 

A snort slipped out despite yourself.

Looking back, Smiley burned brightest when he stood at your door. The same went for the handbag lady and the cowboy. Distinct impulses had bombarded you then, each one tied to a specific creature.

When they focused on you, and when you returned that attention, that was when the bond flared brightest.

You hadn’t fully made that correlation before.

All this time you’d probably been reaching out to them without realizing it. Maybe by letting emotions run uncontrolled? Or simply by thinking about them? About the ritual.

A traumatising event.

Something inside you cracked at that. A sliver of hope gained only to shatter immediately after.

Because how could you not think about it?

If either emotions or attention directed at them were the cause, then how could you ever hope to stop it?

The ritual haunted you. Fear and pain directed you to the carvings, the carvings to the cave, and the cave to them.

It was a vicious cycle.

The cowboy’s leash tightened for a mere moment, those tendrils prodding sweetly again as if to remind you—

He could take it away.

Make it so you’d never feel pain again.

You need only go outside.

Then, like a finger sliding along your throat, past the invisible restraint, he tugged gently. Smug, certain, close to being fond, before easing off. 

A gasp tore from your mouth. You sucked in air greedily, feeling as if you could breathe a little better. Your body sagged inwardly as relief flooded you. Your soul melted like a snowball under the sun. No longer packed compactly, but able to roam free. 

But—

Your back throbbed, shoulders hunching. That knot along your spine tightened abruptly, as if you were being restrung into the web with painstaking care.

That by now familiar, indulgent amusement echoed through the bond, rumbling low like a snare slowly falling still.

You shot upright, fingers clawing at your hair as a scream lodged in your throat.

No. No, you couldn’t stop thinking about them. 

Not now.

Not when more creatures slipped into your awareness, brushing your mind like the whisper of butterfly wings.

That cowboy fuck had kept them at bay somehow.

And now nothing stood between them and you.

Anger surged to burn through the despair. You reached, seeking that one lone star in the pollution caused by the creatures. The one that may help.

You forced yourself to think past the collective, to reach beyond the constriction with frantic, furious intent.

Nausea twisted your gut. Your pacing faltered, feet misstepping until you toppled to your knees. 

You barely noticed the pain rattling up your bones. Your world had narrowed fully to the bond.

Not because of fear. Not to pull away. But to just feel. To search for that one creature.

You didn’t need to search long. He was suddenly just there, slotting beside you. Like a second set of lungs breathing alongside yours. His presence hummed with giddy energy. Yet beneath it was something calm. Controlled. 

That calm seeped into you, cooling the blaze in your chest. The gnashing flames condensed into something contained. Still burning, but a little more manageable.

A shaky exhale shuddered from your body, your muscles loosening.

Anticipation jittered at the forefront of your mind. Not yours. His.

You inhaled slowly. And— 

Pulled.

It was clumsy and rough in this unfamiliar territory. You almost winched, a prickling twang searing in your lower back. Something like a giggle rippled back along the connection. Way more composed than you.

I’ll come. 

Your eyes snapped open, twisting instinctively as if you could see him there, a flash of teeth gleaming behind the message.

Then your pulse kicked harder, a strange giddiness of your own blooming beneath your skin, tangled tight with nerves.

Because you had initiated this.

You didn’t wait for a knock. Hadn’t been nudged or coaxed. Didn’t even reach out by accident.

You chose this.

And now you could feel him inch closer, his presence shifting underneath your ribs. His hunger and excitement had your fingers flex. For a moment, you could almost see it, pavements and houses sifting across your vision in a dizzying overlay.

You blinked hard, forcing it away. You shifted your attention to other things. Your breathing, the cold drifting through the fragile walls of the shed, the ache settling in your knees.

It helped. To an extent. 

The images faded. Only that calm eagerness remained. He prowled like a lion stalking his prey. And somehow it didn’t frighten you.

You rolled your neck, wincing when scabs pulled tight. Amongst other things.

Other creatures still nudged at the edges of your awareness, curious about the shift. A vague sense of pride smoothed down your spine, coiling thickly around your neck.

You observed it with mild irritation.

You hoped Smiley could explain how to hide better. You’d rather not have them experiencing your emotions—your life— all the time. If you were an open channel they could tap into all the time…

A shudder ran down your spine. No wonder they got under your skin so easily then.

You looked towards the door, reflexively checking the talisman. Whether it still hung in place. The strange stone remained as it was, anchoring you in safety.

Like a pinging sonar, Smiley crept closer, gnawing at your giddiness, your remaining anger. Something too sober settled in your soul, making you question your decision.

But it was too late for second guessing.

You swallowed, and pushed yourself to your feet. Slowly, you crossed the shed, nudging the blinds aside and peered out.

No one stood there yet. So you waited, fingers nervously fidgeting with the coarse blinds. 

Then a tall shape rounded the corner of your former house, shadowed in part by the lampposts. His grin already split his face in half. Smiley’s gaze snapped towards you like a hawk sighting a mouse. His upper lip twisted up, baring his teeth more.

You felt the ache in him, the desire to part flesh with meticulous devotion. Your flesh most likely.

Something fluttered in your belly, a misplaced sense of flattery heating your body. Being the target of such violence wasn’t supposed to be attractive. It was only a physical echo of what he felt, not something that belonged to you.

His fingers twitched. Something you only caught because you were watching so closely.

He took his sweet time approaching, smile firmly in place. His excitement and hunger rattled like a groan through your chest.

Nothing was said as he stopped just outside the window. He only stared. Those eyes bored into you, eerily reminiscent of that time in the cave.

Phantom touch lingered on your wrists. But you frowned, shifting your legs when a sensation akin to warm fingers slid under your ribcage. Plucking, assessing. Not at all a phantom created by memory. It should’ve been disturbing. Sickening. 

But he was strangely gentle with his scrutiny.

You studied the face you sometimes imagined touching, morbidly wondering if it would feel like normal skin, or if the ridges underneath would give him away.

“So,” you began quietly, “I’m loud.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The fingers still trailed, seemingly searching for something.

“Very,” he replied at last, as if he already understood where you were going with this. Had merely been waiting for you to catch up.

Then his attention stilled, settling on something deep and buried. The sensation bordered on uncomfortable. Like a torn lining inside your being was softly rubbed against. That wrongness that plagued you even as a child. The feeling of being alien among your peers, no matter your age.

Everyone had their scars, but this one formed too early for you to remember how.

You swallowed, feeling awfully vulnerable beneath his gaze, under the careful probing. “Then how do I hide?” you asked softly, heart pounding.

His presence retreated a fraction. He mirrored your quiet tone, “why should I tell you?”

“Because you warned me, right?” you answered with shaky confidence, worried he’d deny it. That he’d mock your theory. “You think it’s more fun when you have to guess what I feel.” 

It was the only explanation you had. He liked mind games. Liked using his brain. Prey that broadcast everything wouldn't be very entertaining.

You startled when he snorted. 

“I like you like this,” he stated mildly. 

Like this. 

Unbalanced and open. Still reeling from everything. Your mind fractured a little further as you tried to suppress a shout of frustration.

“But then why warn me?”

He shot you an unimpressed look, like you were a fly crawling over his food. The reprimand echoed even through the link. You resisted the urge to shrink back, glaring more fiercely instead. 

“If you’re going to ask stupid questions,” he said flatly, “I’ll leave again.”

“Stupid questio—” you cut yourself off, cold realization hitting hard. “You meant hiding behind the talisman.” It left you in a horrified breath.

His ceaseless stare was answer enough.

He liked this game of cat and mouse. Maybe he didn’t even necessarily want you back in the cave. Or maybe he wanted it to be your choice when you went.

You felt so stupid all the sudden. Felt foolish for ever thinking he’d help you out of anything but his own amusement. Humiliation curdled hot and sour in the back of your throat.

You called for him, thinking he might help. It was only natural he’d humble you.

Because he was and always would be a monster. He wasn’t here to aid. The disappointment stung worse than you expected. 

You were about to drop the blind, done being toyed with. Tomorrow there’d be another chance. Another day of avoiding their attempts at flaying you emotionally.

“Let me inside.” 

Your hand froze.

It was your turn to be unimpressed. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

He scowled. “You’re doing that thing with your eyes,” he grumbled irritably. “It makes you look like a pathetic sheep. I’ll—” he hesitated, “help.” 

The offer seemed to physically hurt him. As if it was unnatural. Which was probably true for his kind.

You studied him closely. His features had gone neutral. His eyes were perfectly blank, but not unfriendly. And poking at the link was as informative as hitting a brick wall.

Of course you wouldn’t open the door. 

And yet…

A part deep inside you murmured, why not? It was like the headband lady said, everyone here had a clock ticking. And with the cowboy’s iron clad certainty you’d be caught sooner or later…

You almost considered it.

Almost.

Your lungs deflated, an annoyed breath leaving you. “Nice try. But no.”

“So you’ll sit there like a duck?” he argued lightly, using a phrase he’d learned from you. “You’ll make a mistake and we’ll know. We'll find you.”

“And opening the door isn’t a mistake?”

His grin split wide, his cheeks creasing. Smiley bent down, straightening with something in his hand. He held it up to the window. 

The pebble you pretended didn’t exist.

“Only that rock makes you act like this," he said, eyes flicking to where the talisman hung. “I think you’d be less fun without your stupidity.”

You swallowed the angry retort rising to your tongue. As much as it sucked to admit, your ‘stupidity’ did lead to this. Chasing someone scared into the forest wasn't your brightest idea. Listening to that apparition of a child even less so.

Admittedly, you hadn’t been behind a talisman in either scenario. Stupidity probably meant talking to monsters that killed humans for fun. And being falsely assured they couldn’t hurt you when a talisman sat between you.

The wounds on your back chose to ache then, frying your mind even more at the edges.

“Why do you need to be inside?” you asked at last, distrust staining every syllable.

His grin widened. “You’d be more scared.”

A glint of malice flashed in his eyes. In the link, however, Smiley was patient. He poked you metaphysically. Playfully so, like a cat tapping with its claws fully retracted.

Your skin went clammy, jaw tightening. “I’d think it’d be easier to learn without being overwhelmed by emotions.”

But he only watched you with that unblinking, steady focus. Just a tad too intense. 

A shiver crawled down your spine, cold as icy droplets.

You couldn’t trust him. Shouldn’t. 

And yet your hand itched. It drifted toward the lock, fingers brushing the cool metal. All the while, you watched the link, searching for the lightest tug. Any sign he was influencing your decision.

But he didn’t. He waited. Still as a mannequin.

Your breath came in quick, shallow bursts as your fingers curled fully around the lock. Around you, the creatures stirred with collective interest. They seemed to lean in with a held breath, layered with something insatiable.

The metal creaked, the sound piercing in the quiet of the night, as you fumbled with the lock. Nerves made your limbs tremble. Still, you didn’t turn it, caught between screaming rationality and impulse.

It was a risk. A very, very high risk letting him in. 

But beneath was that calm. That curiosity. The same muted stillness that settled in on the nights he only watched without trying to lure you out. When he’d ask questions about things that didn’t matter. Things you liked. Stuff he enjoyed. Games. Animals. Or simply nothing at all, chosing to remain silent in each others company.

You drew a slow breath and—

turned the lock.

A jolt sparked through the link. You weren’t sure if it came from you or him. Smiley’s expression didn’t change. His presence still remained calm.

And perhaps that was the trap. Making you believe he didn’t care much. Then he could drag you out and back to the cave to finish whatever they started.

You swallowed and twisted the handle. The door jammed, scraping against the floor. As if to warn you, to try and stop this.

But you pushed harder.

The door gave, trembling on its hinges.

And then you froze, sweat slicking your skin. 

Regret and terror flooded you in equal measures. Smiley stood fully revealed now. No barrier sat between you and him.

Nothing protected you now—

And then your carvings lit up with sensations. Slithering. The other creatures reacted instantly, snapping to attention like sharks scenting blood.

Some were roaming closer. Circling like vultures around a carcass.

By now you understood. They let you feel on purpose. They wanted you to know they noticed. That they were always watching. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth.

“Well?” Smiley tilted his head, prodding at you through the bond. It jolted you back into yourself. “Will you let me in?” 

You stared at him—at his human face—bewildered. He didn’t snarl, didn’t pounce. He still stood in that rigid stance, his smile close to neutral.

Then it clicked. You were standing in the doorway. 

Out of pure instinct, you scrambled back, the need for distance overwhelming, until your spine thumped against the far wall.

Inch by agonizing inch, he followed you inside. The floor creaked beneath each measured step. His smile never wavered. His presence thrummed with quiet satisfaction.

Then—

He closed the door. 

It shut with a heavy, groaning thud, effortless despite the strength required to close the stubborn thing. The sound carried in the small shed, swallowing the rest of the world until it shrank to rotting wood and enclosed walls. He slowly locked the door, never once taking his eyes off you.

A riot of sensations rippled along your wounds. You couldn’t focus on them, couldn’t separate one from another. Not with the redhead standing there, scrambling your thoughts. 

The regret slammed in your chest now that he loomed in the confined space.

It was surreal, seeing one of them inside. Wrong. No glass to dull the intensity of that soulless gaze, nothing to muffle his voice.

The creature moved deeper inside, stopping dead center a short distance from you. Still, he didn’t look away.

You tried to force yourself to relax. If he meant to hurt you, he likely would’ve done so already. 

The thought did nothing to quiet your screaming mind or slow your pounding heart.

Smiley was unpredictable.

There was no way of knowing how this would go.

You pressed harder into the wall, fingers splayed against it as if you could fade right through. His gaze tracked every twitch of your face. You flinched when he lifted his arm, hand extending toward you.

He opened his palm.

The pebble rested there, offered without a single word.

Slowly, cautiously, you peeled one arm from the wall and reached for it, stopping just short of the smooth stone.

When he still didn’t move, you took it from his palm, gripping it tightly, not really understanding why he’d given it to you. Your eyes flickered to Smiley’s, his pale face glowing gently in the oil lamp’s light. It caught in his hair, turning ginger locks as vivid as fire.

“I’d like to see you paint it,” he said, tone quiet and far too casual. As if he didn’t nearly made your heart implode with his sheer presence alone. Not just because of his true nature, you had to admit. He wasn’t unattractive. Didn't dress weird like some of them. Even if the grin ruined some of it.

You rolled his words around your head. It sounded like a transaction. A very bizarre one.

“I don’t have my paint with me,” you managed to choke out, feeling distant in your own body, like witnessing things through a sheen of water. The figure before you appeared almost hazy. Unreal. Your mind withdrew, already whimpering about pain, about the strength those arms held. 

Even though that strength made focusing on the right things harder. Especially with your back pinned to the wall. The way he watched you didn’t help. Like he wanted to get closer, a feral edge curling his stiff shoulders towards you.

“Not now.” He closed in, creeping near until he stood a mere arms length away. Close enough that you could smell cool stone and the forest clinging to him. It made your stomach turn, made your toes curl. “You wanted to learn.”

You braced yourself when he reached out. His fingers trailed along your shoulder where bandages peeked from beneath your pajamas. Not to hurt. Just to satiate the curiosity that shone in the bond.

His touch was feathery light. The pads of his fingers brushing bare skin near your neck. You couldn’t contain a shiver. You pushed his hand away. Not harshly. Mostly because it was distracting in its gentleness. It felt strangely nostalgic.

“Then show me how to do it,” you said, repeating his words as he let his hand fall.

Smiley's underlying desire had you on edge. You could imagine the enjoyment he’d take in seeing the cuts. Even if they were too clinical for his tastes. You’ve seen his handiwork before. It was always messy. 

And still, you pushed forward, emboldened by his lack of aggression. That fragile bundle of hope bloomed a fraction bigger the moment he’d closed the door.

Stepping right in front of him, you implored him to explain with your eyes alone. Smiley grew carefully contained, all those telltale impulses delicately locked away with the keys hidden from sight.

And then he pouted. “You’re barely scared anymore.” His tone conveyed how much of an offence he considered that.

Your brows shot up, irritation sparking in your chest. You opened your mouth—

But he shook his head, smile snapping back in place. “Sit,” he commanded. “I’ll show you.”

You blew out a breath, grumbling to yourself. Still, you lowered yourself onto the bedding, eyes never leaving him while he towered over you. It was a primal urge to keep him in sight. He crouched down, slow, robotic. It itched your lizard brain, had you flinch as his static grin neared. Your breathing quickened as he dimmed in the link. 

“Stop pulling,” Smiley continued, his gaze piercing. “You do that everytime.” 

You swallowed. He was right. You did pull, tried to read him the second he had muffled himself. He let you feel it then, how your clumsiness didn’t just tug on a single string, but on the whole web. 

Tiny pinpricks reacted in response, subtle but immediate. 

Horror crept like ice through your gut.

All this time you truly had been activating the link without even realizing it.

"See?" he said lightly. “Loud.” 

“So what do I do then?” you asked. “Just stop reaching?” 

Somehow, you mentally added, frustrated over this— this vagueness. The emotion bled into the bond before you could dam it. You never asked for this. Never wanted this. Didn’t ask to be maimed. From the look on his face, he felt every bit of it.

“No,” he replied calmly, prodding at you as if you were being an idiot. “You sit with it. No pulling and no pushing.”

“Just breathe,” you murmured, trying to focus on… what? Nothing? You counted your breaths, tried to keep your focus away from the link. 

It was futile.

Your mind circled back to the danger. His proximity. Like something lodged between your teeth, your tongue aching to worry at it. To fix it. To make it go away. 

“Focus on yourself,” he corrected quietly. 

He shifted in the bond then, settling around you. Not forceful, nor restraining. Just there. An enclosing presence. A wall you’d have to actively reach through to touch the other creatures skulking at the edges of your mind.

Against every instinct you had, you let your eyes fall shut. You flinched when he nudged at your own presence.

“Did you never ask yourself where you are?”

You fought the urge to squirm as he curled further around you. It wasn’t like the cowboy’s tight leash. This felt different, like being submerged in water. Neither warm, nor cold. Merely pressing in from all sides.

Smiley guided you to look inward. Not gently exactly, but not cruelly either. He made you look at yourself the way he perceived you.

A bright, flickering star, screaming into a pitch black sky.

Impossible to miss.

Warmth crept up your neck, hot with embarrassment. Was that really you? This loud, bumbling thing? Until you reminded yourself, you’d previously never needed to hide your inner life. This expectation was unnatural. This wasn’t how humans were meant to exist.

You shoved that aside and focussed, reaching, not outward, but inward. Determined to pluck that flashing star from the sky. Or to mute its scream at the least.

A quiet chuckle vibrated through Smiley’s chest.

You cracked an eye open, glaring at him. “What?”

He gave a wide smile. “You’re pretty fidgety,” he murmured. “I don’t think I’ve seen you like this before.”

And just like that, your grip on that star—on yourself—slipped. The image vanished like smoke. Exasperation spilled forth in a low groan. You dropped the soft, worn blanket from where you had, indeed, been messing with it.

“Great,” you grumbled under your breath. Then, louder, you continued, “you’re being distracting.”

“I am helping,” he replied, mock–innocent.

Swallowing down another retort, you studied him instead. Really looked this time. He appeared as intense as always, but the warm glow of the light gave the illusion that his gaze had become softer.

“Yeah…You are.” Your gaze flickered away, unable to hold his. “Thanks.”

He deserved that much credit at least.

From the corner of your vision, you saw him go utterly still. His head tilted sideways.

Your heart began to pound against your ribs.

“You really are strange…” Smiley said, his voice chiming softly, a hint of genuine fondness shimmering in it if you deluded yourself hard enough.

“So are you,” you shot back. The teasing came easier than it should have. The faintest smile twitching at your lips. A real one. 

It made Smiley’s grin falter. 

Your own fell in response, breath catching. 

Something flashed in his eyes, too fast for you to decipher. Then his smile returned, wider, darker.

Alarm bells screamed in your mind. 

But too late.

His hand snapped up, fingers clamping around your jaw. You didn’t even have time to inhale before Smiley shoved his face against the rough bandages on your shoulder.

You jerked instinctively, trying to wrench your head away. His grip only tightened.

Your hands flew to his forearm, the pebble flying from your grip and clattering somewhere on the floor. Your nails dug in as you struggled. Your muscles strained, trembling with effort.

He barely budged. 

Smiley held you effortlessly in place while his teeth scraped over the bandage. Blunt, human teeth pressed down. Not yet enough to pierce the fabric, to rend skin.

A gasp tore from you, breathless. Powerless, you stared over his shoulder at the boarded window, wind whistling near-inaudibly through the fractured glass beyond. 

You had no weapons. Had nothing that could serve as one nearby. The lamp was out of reach, not even your toes touched it when you desperately stretched.

What little good using offence would’ve done.

Fear poured heavily down your limbs, your pulse slamming against your throat.

His mouth lingered there. Too close to exposed flesh. Too close to the wounds beneath.

He could tear you open.

End you within seconds.

And the worst part—

He knew it.

But then—

He nudged. Within the bond, he opened himself up just enough. You—the star—burst behind your eyes again. Brighter than before, its—your—light screeching, shrill and exposed. 

Against your body, his teeth scraped upward along the side of your throat, heat blooming in their wake. They stopped over your rapid pulse.

Impatient curiosity flooded the link. Braided tight with a distressing amount of hunger.

What will you do? Smiley seemed to say.

And with a spike of hysteria, you understood. 

He wanted you to try.

Wanted you to hide your presence. 

Panic clawed up your spine.

Instinct yelled at you to recoil. To draw yourself into a tiny ball, to shove him away, to do something—

No pulling and no pushing.

Smiley’s earlier words rang through your head like a bell struck too hard.

You forced yourself to stop reaching. To ignore the cooing whispers of the other creatures, wisps of their presence bleeding past the bubble Smiley's created.

No reaching for them.

You focussed inward.

Instead of trying to snuff the star, you folded around it. Drew its edges close and compacted its light the way dying embers curl in on themselves.

You imagined an anchor, weight. Something to keep it in place.

The star didn’t vanish. It sank in on itself, turning smoother. Its screaming pitch dropped into something quieter. No longer a flare shooting through the sky, the loud shriek of fireworks chasing after it.

Smiley went utterly still.

You had to fight the kneejerk reaction to focus on him. To reach. 

You failed.

His teeth hovered at your throat, pushing into the fragile skin of your neck. A small, broken sound caught in your chest as the pressure increased, gentle only by virtue of restraint.

He wanted to bite. To leave a mark. 

A desire shared by more than one.

You deserve to be marked.

You forced yourself inward again, clinging to sanity. To yourself. The star steadied, its glow contained. Even if it still jittered, trembling on the brink of collapse.

In the bond, Smiley’s curiosity spiked. Then it shifted.

There, his presence seemed to murmur, pressing more against yours, pleased and intent. Feel that?

“Fuck you,” you gritted out, head pounding with the strain of keeping yourself compact.

A chuckle escaped him, the sound reverberating against you as his thumb stroked along your jawline. You shivered, something pleasant, yet nauseating clawing in your gut. He leaned back, unlatching his mouth from your neck, and you breathed more freely.

“You want help with that too?” His voice lowered, something playful coating it.

A groan tumbled from you. With another jerk, he finally let go. “Not you too,” you whined, exhaustion crashing over you all the sudden. As if a heavy blanket dropped from your shoulders, leaving only bare bones beneath.

It didn’t stop you from slapping him. 

His cheek snapped to the side, expression faltering—just for a heartbeat. Your palm stung from impact, the pain worth the collapse of his composure.

But your grim satisfaction wavered. His smile bloomed again. Brighter than ever. There wasn’t even a hint of redness on his pale skin, much to your consternation. No handprint left behind as evidence whatsoever.

You frowned at him. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

He didn’t answer. He only watched you, attention sharpened into something just a shade too predatory.

You wanted to pull. Wanted to know what he felt. But you didn’t know how to do that and stay quiet. You didn’t have the skill yet to touch only him, without stirring the rest of the creatures listening in the dark.

And even then, he only showed what he wanted. They all did. Because they did have control. It left you at a serious disadvantage.

He had proven as much. Your cheeks warmed, the weight of his actions and words pouring over you like hot lava.

“But…” you started reluctantly, pointedly ignoring his proximity. If he had breath in his lungs, it would’ve hit your face for sure. “Thank you. Again.”

Smiley huffed, the puff of air brushing past your cheek exactly as predicted. “Stop that. You know it wasn’t for you.”

“Maybe not,” you said, "but it brings me some peace, knowing I’m not someone's soap opera twenty-four seven.”

He blinked at you, genuinely confused.

“Yeah, I’m not going to try and explain that,” you added, smiling dryly. Explaining tv sounded like a trial before, and it still did now. He would ask too many questions.

“Pff. Boring.”

You tilted your head. “So… got any more cryptic advice for me?”

“Stay indoors,” he said, way too seriously. 

The mocking twinkle in his eyes ruined it immediately.

“That's not funny.” Not when they were the reason why people cowered inside.

“Do you know what some of them want to do to you?” he asked, leaning forward. Then, almost inaudibly, “what I want to do?”

You stiffened, unsure where he was going with this. 

He reached for you, slower this time, almost cautious when you flinched. His hand settled on your hip, exactly where he held you in the cave.

“There are other ways to make humans scream,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to where his palm met your body.

Your eyes widened, heat flooding your cheeks alongside a spike of incredulous horror. The implication made your head spin. It couldn’t be true. No matter the teasing, no matter the cowboy’s suggestive prodding—

Did they even have those parts?

Almost reflexively, your gaze wanted to drop. As if to check.

And he was so close, the poor excuse of a bed underneath you suddenly at the forefront of your mind. You were alone with him. On a bed. And he was grabbing your hip a little too tightly—

You didn’t get time to think further.

You jerked with a startled yelp as his fingers dug unexpectedly into your side, mercilessly ticklish.

“Stop being a dick,” you snapped, batting his hand away, breath uneven and frustration seeping through the fluster.

Smiley chuckled for a second and you tensed for further teasing, sure he noticed your train of thought. Then his expression sobered. His eyes became steely, an uncanny seriousness draping over him.

“I like you like this,” he said again. “So don’t be an idiot.”

You swallowed. “I thought you liked my stupidity,” you shot back, lips lifting into a flimsy grin.

Smiley glowered at you, something feral flashing through the set of his face. He looked ready to strangle you. 

“I’ll drag you to the cave myself if you do something stupid.”

“I believe you,” you said warily, a shard of ice lodging in your chest at the threat.

He nodded. The motion was stiff, almost mechanical, before he straightened up. Not a single one of his bones popped.

Somehow, that unnerved you the most.

“You should sleep,” he said, using the same intonation as back in the cave. It felt different now. Less like a lure meant to settle you inside the nest.

Pain echoed faintly along your back, your gaze slipping from him as he leaned down. Those same hands that once held you pinned reached instead for the stone on the floor, lifting it with careful precision. He placed it on the bed, beside the pillow.

Smiley lingered there for a moment, studying you, his lips stretching slowly. 

“Watch yourself,” he reminded you, with a nudge to the carvings.

With a start, you found you’d been reaching for the link. For him.

“Right,” you muttered, painstakingly folding yourself inward again, “that’s going to take some time.”

He let out a small hum, noncommittal and faintly amused. The redhead spun on his heel, walking over to the door. Just as his hand closed around the lock, he paused, and glanced back at you.

“You’ll paint it tomorrow,” he stated. Not asked. It wasn’t a suggestion.

You shifted on the bed, a retort rising to your tongue, but his earlier threat squashed it down. It was better to not provoke him any further. Besides, he did help you. Painting was a simple payment for that.

“Alright.”

“Now sleep,” he added, already unlocking the shed. 

Before you could answer, the door swung open and Smiley stepped out. Cold air rushed in after him, invasive and harsh.

“But first…” 

He glanced back over his shoulder, one hand braced against the doorframe. His grin caught the light, sadistic pleasure curling his cheeks wide.

“Close the door.” 

Then he walked away, shoving the door as far open as it would go. The hinges shrieked, shrill and piercing, in their protest. 

Down the road, another creature stirred. Its head snapped toward the sound. Toward you.

Your heart leapt to your throat. 

Without thinking, you stumbled towards the door. 

The creature—the mechanic—lumbered over, unhurried. A pleasant, too keen expression etching across his face.

But you were faster.

You yanked the door shut, twisting the lock so hard it hurt your wrist. The blinds fluttered in place from the force.

A shadow fell over you, the mechanic reaching the shed a moment too late, coming to stop directly in front of it.

He didn't say a word. 

Didn’t knock.

You barely felt a thing in the link. This creature didn't show anything. A blank canvas without even an author's name.

Then shock pierced you like an arrow.

Smiley hadn’t been finished with his lesson apparently. He’d known you’d reach the door first. Known you’d pull on the bond in your panic.

Fury pumped hot and sudden into your veins. Your molars grinded together.

You should’ve slapped him twice.

Had you the skill to do it, you would’ve sent a reprimand through the link. Just as he had done to you. You flinched back when a pulse flared low in your spine. Smiley raked his metaphorical nails over your skin, laughter trailing in slow ripples along your vertebrae. 

A snarl scraped up your lungs, gravelly and feral. 

You froze immediately after, horror snapping your eyes wide.

A chuckle drifted from the creature hidden by the blinds, disrupting any thought spirals before they could begin.

“I hope that wasn’t for me, youngster," the mechanic said, which was already an unsettlingly rare occurrence.

You didn't deign to answer. Fatigue swallowed the mess of emotions down as you folded yourself inward, keeping yourself close to home. Hoping desperately that if you managed to sleep, it wouldn't pry your side of the link open.

Trudging to the bed, you rolled yourself in the sleeping bag, noticing only now how cold your toes were. Your hand found the stone, the corner of your lips lifting in the faintest smile. You wiped it off the second you noticed, huffing irritably before rolling to your other side. The stone remained beside the pillow.

The mechanic didn’t leave. But that was fine. You’ve slept in their presence before—and lived.

You closed your eyes, a dull, pounding ache blooming behind them, making you feel like your skull might implode.

You carefully traced the side of your neck where Smiley almost bit down. Even now, his amusement hummed beneath your ribs. Perhaps fatigue made you sloppy and let him in. Or maybe it was because, deep down, you’d enjoyed his company, despite the danger, and had sought him out.

The other monsters must, mercifully, keep to themselves then.

Now that adrenaline drained, only a quiet, victorious thrill remained. You’d learned something useful. And had gained a monster who could cautiously be placed on a list of allies. You carried this small triumph with you into sleep. Let Smiley's satisfaction cradle you in a strangely sweet cocoon. Darkness dragged you under, silent and unmoving. You floated peacefully within it.

Until confusion nipped at your sleeping mind.

Your eyes snapped open, mouth parting as emotions slammed through you.

Fury, betrayal. Something startlingly close to fear.

It was intense. 

It was brief.

And then it stopped.

Unease settled like dust after a collapsing structure. 

You shot upright, panting as if awoken from a nightmare. That hadn’t been you. Those weren’t your emotions. 

The mechanic had vanished. You couldn’t ask him.

This time, you reached on purpose. Awkwardly tugging on the web, now able to notice the twang shaking the link. But they didn’t jump on it like usual.

Dread pooled in your stomach, sweat trickling past your temples.

Only that unease answered. And an urge.

Go to the clinic.

You untangled yourself from the sleeping bag and rushed to the door, shoving the blinds aside. It was still dark. The moon hadn't moved much in the sky. Not much more than an hour could’ve passed since Smiley left.

Go to the clinic.

The urge settled under your skin like an unschratchable itch.

You couldn’t go outside. Not with monsters still prowling, eager to drag you back to the caves. Or worse. You’d need to wait until dawn.

Almost unconsciously, you searched for Smiley. For his calm. His impatience. His giddiness. Anything resembling him whatsoever.

Nothing answered. He didn’t slot against you this time. Something felt stretched and frayed in the bond.

Your throat closed up.

Whatever had happened, it had rattled even the monsters. Whether that was a good thing remained to be seen.

The night was still young. Which meant it would be a long sit. 

You grabbed the abandoned can of coffee and poured yourself a cup. No steam rose from it. The liquid had long since cooled. You took a sip, scrunching your nose at the cold, bitter taste.

And so you waited. 

The coffee emptied steadily, caffeine keeping you just alert enough to avoid slipping back into sleep.

At some point, you had picked up the pebble. Your fingers worried at its smooth surface, as if it might summon Smiley back.

It didn’t.

No matter how insistently you prodded, no creature ventured near the shed again. The bond remained eerily quiet.

When the first ray of light creeped through the creaks in the wall, you leaped up, momentarily staggering as blood rushed to your head.

You ignored it. Ignored your painfully full bladder.

You shot out of the shed.

You dressed beforehand—made sure of it—so you wouldn’t have to waste a second now.

Wind rushed past your face as your feet slapped on the pavement.

Go to the clinic.

You needed to know. Had to know why they repeated it again and again. 

The sun barely graced the land, shards of its light painting the sky a cloudy yellow. It was the only witness to your sprint.

Your lungs quivered, fighting to keep going, air rushing inside until your throat felt raw.

The path to the clinic sped past you, your gait slowing as you panted rapidly. Sweat trickled down your spine, biting into your scabbed back.

You squinted, seeing something lying up ahead. Something suspiciously shaped like a person. Too still. Too quiet. Nearby it was a car from Colony House.

It made you freeze, feet coming to a trudging stop.

Had someone died?

Your head spun, gut twisting. 

Who was it? 

Whose face would you never see again?

Seeing the carnage left behind by the monsters always seared into your brain.

Empty, cracked–open ribcages. Skinned and torn limbs. They always left their victims faces untouched. Etched in stillness forever. As if to show exactly who they robbed from you all.

With trembling fists, you forced yourself to step forward. Your heart howled like a storm, trying to break your own ribs apart.

But your world tilted when you got closer.

Disbelief wormed its way under your skin.

The pallid, veiny skin didn’t belong in the light. Those angry, fish-like faces should dwell in the deepest darkness the earth had to offer.

Bile rushed up your throat and you rushed to the bushes, coughing up what little stomach content you had.

Wiping your mouth, you hastily twisted back. Stumbled closer.

It couldn’t be real. The one creature who had helped you—

Was dead.

The ginger locks. The clothes. It was undeniable.

It was Smiley.

Motionless. Unresponsive.

Dead.

Up ahead, something in the clinic’s door shifted. The movement drew your eyes.

Boyd met your gaze, face slowly melting into mirrored horror as he saw your rigid, panting form. Behind him stood more than one person.

You gulped audibly, eyes flickering between theirs.

There was no version of this that wouldn’t end badly.

Chapter Text

Water ran past your wrists as you numbly gathered it in your cupped palms. Lowering your head, you splashed it against your face, the freezing liquid startling your nerves and making you shudder.

You lifted your head up, meeting your own eyes in the mirror. Tired, flat eyes. It still surprised you how little stress this place had carved into your skin. Some people got permanent eyebags though. Yours may be going the same direction by the looks of it.

Droplets trailed down your face, joining the steady stream pouring from the faucet.

A small voice, belonging to a world where everything cost money, said not to waste water. You squashed it down.

Turning the faucet off, you carelessly wiped your face clean with your shirt. Stepping out of the restroom, you shuffled back into the hall. And just in time.

You watched as the others dragged the body past the entrance. They had covered his face. Not out of respect. Out of disgust. Maybe fear.

Who would want to confront their monsters after all?

It was futile, but you pulled at the web again, focussing on the body as it passed. 

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

A constant warmth simmered beneath your ribs though. Indescribable in its intent. Perhaps a remnant of the corpse before you. A frayed edge. It reminded you of the first day after the ritual. When it burned.

“Hey,” Boyd’s voice cut in, “you okay?”

You heard the message underneath his concern. Don’t make a scene.

Nodding, you stepped forward to help, falling in beside Kenny to drag the dead creature along.

Fatima and Ellis had already left, the new guy, Elgin, joining them. Your hairs stood on end when they brushed by you. The scent of blood clung like thick perfume to the couple.

How Ellis managed to walk at all, you didn't know. It almost seemed as if people here were built different. Jim, you and now Ellis. Ethan too in all honesty. All healed too quickly. At least you think those carvings healed too fast. Without seeing them it was hard to tell.

“How’s your back?” Kenny asked through a grunt, hauling the dead weight past another doorpost.

“Huh?” you dumbly responded, fingers trembling as you clung to the sheet. The body beneath was so still. Your throat tightened around the thought.

“Your back,” he repeated. “You said it hurt. If it’s too heavy, you should stop.” 

Something flexed along his jaw, tight enough to catch even in your peripheral vision. Without thinking, you looked at Kristi. At Boyd. Searching for directions your mind currently couldn’t find. 

Both met your gaze. Nothing was said, but everything was understood.

Kenny noticed, gaze shifting between you three.

He straightened and let go, forcing you to do the same, the weight too heavy for you. Smiley hit the floor with a dull, careless thud. 

Your teeth grounded together at the sound.

“Okay,” Kenny said, a hard edge flinting into his voice. "What's going on?” 

Everyone who knew him understood. He had caught onto the lie. And like a bloodhound, he’d search until he’d found the next clue to the trail he sniffed out.

When no one looked up, Boyd stepped in, standing upright. “Look, it’s not—”

“Important?” Kenny cut in, impatience sewn through the word. “Running all the way here because of pain seems pretty fucking important to me. Those scratches can’t be that bad.” His gaze swept over the group, lingering on you. “Are you hiding something from me?”

Again, went unspoken. But this wasn’t like with Sara. But in the wake of the worm's revelation, you understood his caution. If Boyd came back changed, why couldn’t you?

You tried to touch his shoulder, but he immediately shrugged you off. “Tell me the truth,” he demanded. There was a crack near the end this time. 

And you wondered how long he doubted. How long since he noticed the inconsistencies in the cover-up story. 

You glanced at Marielle. Her eyes were wide as she watched everything unfold. Kristi trusted her, right? If she did, then so could you. Hopefully.

“Kenny, now is not the time,” Boyd said calmly.

A long sigh dragged out of your lungs, interrupting any further conflict with all the grace of a groaning, stumbling zombie. Your voice drudged out, tired and flat, “the monsters performed a ritual on me.”

Kenny froze. Almost everyone did. 

Boyd looked down, his eyes closing as he drew in a deep breath. You could almost feel the pressure on him. The choice to keep quiet, hoping this would remain secret just a little longer.

He probably thought this was foolish. 

Maybe it was.

“What?” Kenny asked hoarsely. ”What the fuck does that mean?”

“Okay,” Boyd began, hands lifting in a placating gesture. "Let's do one thing at a time. We’ll talk later.” He motioned towards Smiley. “First, we deal with this.”

“No, we won’t,” the younger man snapped, arm shooting out. “What fucking ritual?”

You inhaled, exhaled and opened your mouth, “I’ll explain everything later. Just… don’t expect much.”

Kristi sighed. “We really don’t know much, Kenny,” she said quietly. “But can we get this thing downstairs? I don’t want it here any longer than needed.”

“And someone might walk in and see,” you added.

Kenny looked like he might bolt, lips pressed tight, his gaze gone steely in that tell-tale sign of his patience fraying. The tension coiled thick around the group, holding its breath in wait for his decision.

Then he grabbed the sheet.

He glanced at all of you. When his eyes met yours, it was fleeting. Something sharp passed through them before it was gone.

Something like hurt, maybe.

You bit on the inside of your cheeks, frustration flaring.

“Well?” he said. “What are we waiting for?” 

Quietly, the group returned to the task at hand. The air felt stifling, stretched too tight. One wrong move and it would split.

You kept your gaze down, focussing on the burn in your arms. The pinch in your lower back as you bowed over the sheet. Not the body beneath. Not the others.

Between one blink and the next, Smiley was placed inside the boiler room, head lolling before stilling. The sheet draped down the table of his current resting place, revealing his true face.

The others spoke about tools. Gloves. Ribcages.

But all you could think about was when things had changed. When did you stop prioritizing escaping this place? When did complacency settle in like a disease?

Because inside you, emotions stormed, one trampling the next before you could fully grasp them. 

You didn’t want to see Smiley’s body desecrated. The idea of turning his autopsy into a weapon made your stomach twist.

It shouldn't. 

This was a good thing. Maybe you could finally fight back. If those worms had left something behind—a toxin, a weakness—then you could finally make them pay. Maybe even leave eventually.

So why did your chest hurt?

You startled out of your thoughts when Marielle suddenly rushed off, pale and greenish in the face. The others followed close behind.

All except Boyd.

He paused, looking back at you. Something tense sat in the set of his shoulders.

Then he turned and left.

Their voices filtered in from the room beyond. You didn’t listen to them though.

Instead, you studied Smiley’s features. Nausea prickled under your ribs. Glancing up once—to check whether you were truly alone—you tentatively reached for his face, tracing fingertips along the downturned ridges of his brow. Past the slope of his cheek. Stopping just shy of his rows of teeth. 

Your heart clenched.

His skin felt cold, but otherwise no different from a human's. For so long, you wondered what their face would feel like.

And now that the opportunity finally came, it left you hollow.

A tremor set deep in your hand as you lifted it to his hair. Your heart soared, a foolish, reflexive certainty rising that he would move. That he’d prod at you through the link. That this was all just an elaborate game and he’d mock you for falling for it.

But when you carefully carded your fingers through the strands, he remained still. Grave-still. 

His hair was fine and cool between your fingers, brushing over your skin with unsettling familiarity.

You dropped your hand back to your side, inhaling deeply. A restless murmur had developed in the link. Flashes of white clipping the edges of your vision, static swelling until it drowned even your thoughts. It doused the lingering warmth under your bones, shrinking its intensity.

You shook it off, for now, and went to join the others, feet dragging beneath you. 

Kristi was half-carrying Marielle through the doorway just as you stepped out.

“Is she okay?” you asked the two men still inside the room.

“Withdrawal,” Boyd replied shortly.

“...Oh.” You cleared your throat, watching the couple vanish down the hall. “So… are we still doing this?”

“We are,” Boyd said, emphasis landing heavily on the word. Then he turned to you. ”But you’re not.”

You twisted towards him, shock reverberating hard through your chest. “What? Why not?”

“That thing’s got those worms inside. Last time, you didn’t react so well.”

You clenched your teeth, anger lighting up your limbs, sending them trembling. “Does it look like I’m affected now?”

“Yes,” he said evenly. “Yes, it does.”

Kenny glanced between the two of you. “I’ll go down to the shed,” he muttered, already moving. His shoulders were tense. His jaw clenched.

You waited until he was out of sight.

“Boyd, I’m perfectly capable of helping—”

He shook his head. “No. Not this time.”

“We haven’t even seen the fucking worms,” you whisper-yelled, nostrils flaring.

“And I’m saying I’m not taking any risks,” he shot back. “We don’t know what this is going to do. So you stay out,” he pointed at you, eyes hard, “and you keep your fucking mouth shut.” 

Your upper lip twitched, wanting to curl into a snarl. You looked away. 

“Fine.”

Boyd nodded. “Good.”

You stormed off without another word, bursting out of the clinic. 

A red haze tinted your sight, pulse thudding in your temple. You stomped away, uncaring of where you were going, letting everything and everyone blur past you.

Boyd’s words rattled in your head, each one striking the same sore spot. The rejection burned. Because you had been fine. You were still standing and didn’t panic.  After everything—after what they did to you—didn’t you have the right to be part of this? 

They maimed you.

A quiet thought tried to surface. That the static was gone, that warmth had settled under your skin again since leaving the boiler room. You crushed it immediately. Built anger over it like mortar. If you started listening now, you’d have to admit he might be right.

You shoved a hand in your pocket and closed your fingers around the pebble inside. Its smooth surface grounded you, dulled the edge just enough to keep going.

Under different circumstances, you would’ve painted it tonight. Under the watchful gaze of Smiley.

Your chest deflated, breath leaving you in a slow, bitter exhale. 

No use dwelling on such thoughts now. He was dead.

You watched people in the distance amble towards the diner. Hunger escaped you, but your fingers itched for something to do. Anything to keep busy.

Ignoring any lingering looks and hushed conversations, you joined the small crowd and slipped inside. You tapped your foot as the short line at the counter crept forward, stepping up the moment it cleared.

Tian-Chen looked relieved to see you. Maybe she thought you’d skip out on breakfast. It wouldn’t be the first time you did. The notion someone watched you so closely stirred your blood right now. 

Her expression sobered a beat later. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” you said curtly. “Can I help out in any way?”

She studied you, brows knitting together. Then she nodded. “You clean. But,” her gaze grew stern, “you stop if pain too much.”

“Sure,” you said, already moving behind the counter. As if a little pain wouldn’t be welcome right now.

Pushing your sleeves up, you grabbed any dirty dishes within reach and filled the basin with steaming water. Soap bloomed into foam. Without preamble, you plunged your hands in. Your face twitched when the scalding water bit down, but you didn’t pull away.

Tian-Chen worked beside you, glancing over now and then. You ignored her. Ignored anyone who tried to greet you. Even the Matthew kids working alongside you.

Your world shrunk to the burn and the heavy scrubbing.

Eventually, the flow of people thinned. The last dishes stood stacked beside you. As you dried your water-pruned hands, a plate filled with food slid onto the counter.

Tian-Chen watched you meaningfully.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Eat anyway.” Her expression brokered no argument. She turned back to her work, putting freshly cleaned utensils back in their rightful place.

With a sigh, you took the plate and sat down, forcing a few bites down. People filtered out until it was just the two of you, the diner quieting around its vacated tables.

“Tian-Chen,” you said at last. Your eyes remained firmly on the tabletop, the white plaster flaking away in places. You plucked at the loose pieces, peeling a tiny strip off. “Why do we keep going?” 

Your throat constricted, heart aching.

“Why, when we’re slowly being picked off one by one?”

The woman set the spatula down from where she was gathering left-overs. She came from behind the counter, resting a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Because we alive,” she answered quietly, leaning closer. “We live and that means hope.”

You let your eyes close, your heart aching for a parent who wasn’t here. The stone in your pocket suddenly felt too heavy. 

“Yeah,” you murmured, the word slipping out in a tired sigh. “I guess we are…” 

A thought crossed your mind.

“Hey,” you said, opening your eyes again. “Did the people in my house bring my painting stuff here?” 

Tian-Chen shook her head.

"Figures.” The word came out flatter than you meant to. “They probably still have hope.” You swallowed, gaze drifting. “They think they’ll leave any time now. That this place is temporary.”

The image settled in your mind. People fixing up the skeleton of a house that used to be yours, pretending it could become something like a home. Only once that idea crawled into their skull—that leaving was impossible—would they gather any unwanted belongings and dump them.

The woman beside you crossed her arms. “They not bad for hoping,” she said. “You being rude.” 

“Maybe, but it’s cruel, isn’t it?” you shot back. “Giving hope when sooner or later someone will die again.”

Her brows drew together, anger flashing in her eyes. Not offended. Wounded, as if you slapped her hand away.

She didn’t speak right away, only stared at you. Long enough to make it feel like a test. Like she was giving you a chance to take it back.

You swallowed, jaw flexing, as anger stirred again, reflexive, snapping. You choked it down. Reminded yourself she wasn’t the target of your ire.

“We all loss someone,” she said eventually, voice trembling. “Me lose someone. Kenny lose someone.” Pain etched deep into her features now, tears threatening to form. 

Something twitched in your chest. Her pain waking up compassion. Recognition. You looked away, breath hitching. And then the anger buckled. Collapsed inward and became jagged.

You stood abruptly.“I know,” you said, the words barely more than a whisper as you stepped closer. “I know, but—”

I just lost someone I’m not supposed to grieve.

“Ellis almost died tonight.”

You almost felt guilty for using him as a scapesgoat. You barely even grasped what had happened to him—only that he’d been stabbed in a dispute. The way Tian-Chen’s face melted into compassion twisted the knife harder.

“He okay now?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

She stepped forward, cupping your cheek. “Then visit him. Cherish time with him.”

The words rang with wisdom born from experience. She hadn’t spent much time with her husband when he remained at the clinic, stubbornly clinging to the belief he’d become better. And now she would never see him again.

A piece of the jagged wall inside you crumbled. “I will—”

The radio clicked on.

You both turned towards it, still as surprised as the first time it spontaneously decided to turn on. A smooth melody crackled through the speakers, tugging at your memory. But try as you might, the lyrics refused to come.

Then a man began singing.

When the night has come 

and the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we’ll see—

The words struck over your head like a cymbal, ripping the fragile knitting in your heart asunder.

I won’t be afraid

You stood rooted in place, eyes locked on the old radio, its yellow-orange glow searing into you like hot iron.

—just as long as you stand by me

You recalled nights spent under that gleaming smile, predatory eyes soothing beneath ginger brows in their familiarity. So much so that you’d, foolishly, fallen asleep more than once with the blinds still open. 

He never commented on this habit. Never mocked you for it.

Tian-Chen and you met each other's gazes. Hurt flickered through hers. Anger burned in yours. The song pressed down on both of you. Merciless. Heartless.

“Thanks for the food,” you muttered.

You pushed past her and out of the diner, before you were tempted to turn back and tear the radio off the table. Smash it to the ground.

Tears stung your eyes, but you wiped them away with furious vigor. This shit town never let its inhabitants rest, did it? 

Again, you rushed off without purpose, keeping a tight grip on that rock. You couldn’t stop noticing now. Smooth and small, just like Smiley said. Perfect for painting. And in a way, the only thing left of him.

You sighed harshly and turned on your heel. Surely, the people in your house were awake by now.

Dragging your shitty foldable chair and a bag full of clutter, you meandered through grassy fields until you reached your favorite spot. Between the treelines sat a small, open clearing, long grass sprites reaching to tickle along your calves.

It was a shame that it was growing colder. Walking barefeet here always added to the experience.

The sun was unfortunately close to breaking through the dense clouds, making you squint in irritation.

You set the bag down and unfolded the chair in the middle of the clearing. One of the couples from your house had allowed you back in without hesitation. Even helped gather any of your remaining, meagre belongings without a single complaint.

It began to extinguish the inferno in your chest. And you hated it. Now the ache sank deeper, its roots threading through you like mycelium. Invisible unless you cracked the surface open, but overwhelmingly there.

Perhaps that’s why you chose this place and sat down, reaching for the pebble. You rotated it in your palm. It was close to the shape of an egg, only slightly crooked. Not long ago, a monster’s fingers had smoothed over the cool surface. Had handed it over to you.

Fingers that wouldn’t pick up any more rocks for you.

With a slow exhale, you gathered a brush and the wooden slab you used as a palette. Colors came easy. Had already been decided for a while now. 

You smeared a blend of red and orange across one side, watching the pigments bleed into one another as they dried. When it was set, you reached for black paint and a finer brush. But you managed only a few, circular lines.

Crunching footsteps sent your heart into your throat. You nearly jumped out of your skin.

You snapped up, eyes locking on– 

“Kenny.”

He gave a lackluster nod in greeting, gaze fixed on the ground. “Tell me,” he said quietly, no longer willing to play around the bush.

Not that you could blame him.

You wet your lips and tapped the pebble against the wooden slab. “Okay,” you whispered, pushing down the urge to ask about Smiley. About what they’d found.

“And don’t,” he added, finally looking up, pointing at you, “leave anything out.” 

Anxiety seized you by the windpipe. Your thoughts scattered, one tripping over the other. You didn’t want to recall. Didn’t want to recite what they did to you.

Your mouth fell open anyways—

A crow shot from the nearest trees, cawing loudly, making you yelp. It cut across the clearing and vanished in the trees opposite. Every beat of its wing felt like solid weight pressing down on your shoulders.

You tracked its flight.

It landed, beady eyes fixed on you. Too dark. No color to them at all. Watching. Waiting.

Your breath hitched. Cold sweat broke along your spine, a dull, warmth echoing from beneath. 

Your hands began to tremble.

Shooting up, you gripped the rock tightly, glaring up at the avian fucker. “What are you looking at, huh?”

“Hey—” Kenny said your name hesitantly. 

But you didn’t hear him. Your lungs creaked with every thin, yet too slow breath.

The crow didn’t react. Didn’t move. It merely. kept. watching. Mocking, laughing.

Lava burned in your veins. Your arm reflexively drew back, muscles gearing to hurl—

A hand snapped your wrist. 

“Hey! What the fuck are you doing?”

You froze. 

The rock slipped from your grasp and hit the ground with a muffled thud. You stared at the crow as the red haze faded from your vision. Its small head swiveled around, feathers fluttering as it began preening. 

Never once did it focus on you.

“I-I,” you stammered before swallowing. “Let’s go inside.” It tumbled out without any grace. “We’ll talk. Okay? We’ll talk.”

Kenny studied you, his grip still tight around your wrist. “Yeah,” he agreed after a while. He let go of you, slowly. Nearly reluctantly. As if he worried you’d bolt. Or do something worse.

You didn’t. You only gathered your stuff with jerky movements, your insides twisting. “Let’s go,” you muttered, a muscle in your cheek twitching as you passed him too quickly. Kenny followed silently.

Only once in his room did some tension drain from your shoulders. Only a little though. 

“Can we close the curtains?” you asked. The light outside made your head pound.

“What—” he started, but paused. He rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” Kenny went to close them, yanking them shut with more force than necessary.

The dimmed room was a balm to your stinging eyes. You sat on the edge of his bed, clutching your bag to your chest like a shield. 

And then you talked. You didn’t even wait for him to settle somewhere. Didn't allow time for hesitation. The words spilled out, lifeless and mechanical, before nerves could strangle them. You rotated the memories distantly in your mind. As if peering at someone through glass.

“They treated me like a pet,” you said at the end of it all.

Kenny had found his home against the wall, arms crossed and his gaze anywhere but on you. Then he pushed off abruptly, heading towards the door.

“Where are you going?” You lunged for him, fingers catching on his shirt. 

He twisted back, ripping himself loose. “Boyd shouldn't have kept this secret,” he snapped. “He let you sit in that shed—alone—while those things—”

He broke off, looking away for a second. “You shouldn’t ever have been left alone,” he whisper-yelled.

“I wanted to be alone!”

“What if it’s like with Sara?” he argued, face hard.

You recoiled. “You think I’m some murderer?” 

“No,” he immediately said, too fast for your liking. He ran a hand over his hair, forcing his voice into something steadier, “look, Sara heard voices. Now you do too. What if they push you to do the same horrible things?”

Heat boiled in your blood. You stood up, the bed bumping into the wall from the sudden motion. 

“I’m nothing like her,” you snarled, shoving past him, your shoulder slamming into his.

“I didn’t say that—”

You spun on him. “Then what are you saying.”

His jaw flexed. “I’m saying that you can’t do this alone. They’ll try to poison your head and—”

“And what?” You crossed your arms tight across your chest.

“You almost hurt an animal,” he said, voice dropping. “They’re already getting to you.” He swallowed audibly. “Can’t you see that?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, something inside you quivering, splintering. “I just need to sleep,” you said, voice cracking. It sounded flimsy even to you.

“Then sleep here,” he insisted immediately.

“Boyd said—”

“No.” Kenny stepped closer. “This isn’t about Boyd.” His tone softened. “It’s about your life. And spending those nights alone hasn't helped.”

Fear spilled out of you, the crack inside fracturing until the dam was close to breaking. 

“What if I do hurt someone?" you whispered. “What if it’s true and they really do influence me?” Your lip began wobbling. You bit down hard on it, tasting metal.

Kenny studied you for a long time. It made you anxious, heart almost trembling apart as if it were made of fine porcelain.

“You know how evil they are,” he said quietly. “Do you think anything they want from you could lead to something good?”

You shook your head. Absolutely not.

Kenny’s shoulders dropped from their stiff position like the weight of the world slid off of them. “Then there’s your answer.”

A shuddering breath rattled out of your lungs. The fractures inside you throbbed, then slowly eased off, relief sifting around their edges as they shrunk in intensity.

“I’ll… I’ll think about it,” you said. “About sleeping here. If, uh, your mom’s fine with it as well.”

His lips quirked into a tentative smile. A small, white flag of sorts. “I don’t think you need to ask.” 

After leaving her like that at the diner, you weren’t so sure. 

“She was pretty confused when she heard you’d been sleeping in the shed.”

Your mouth twitched up in their own fragile, crooked smile. “Did she call me a foolish child again?”

Kenny's eyes gained a sheepish hint to their slant. “Something like that.”

Well. Whatever had been said was probably harsh. Just in that well-meaning way of hers, of course.

“Boyd probably wants to talk to you,” he suddenly added like it only just occurred to him. “About the whole… bile thing.” His gaze dipped. He still looked pale, as if the reality of it all hadn’t fully registered yet.

And just like that your mood soured again. “Right,” you stated flatly, already planning to avoid him a while longer. "He can find me later. I’m going to paint again.”

He nodded. “If you need help getting your stuff over here, just ask.” 

You nodded back, knowing very well you won’t take him up on the offer. If you were going to sleep here, you wanted to ask Tian-Chen first. It was only right. “Is it okay if I paint here?”

He huffed out a small laugh. “Sure, just don’t get it on the bed.”

“Deal.”

But as you sat on his bed again later, staring at the rock you placed on the nightstand, you felt dismayed. You had smudged the paint. It hadn’t been dry when you grabbed it and black now stained your fingers. Fingerprints sat smeared over its surface.

You watched the pebble, feeling hollow. 

The last thing Smiley had given you and you ruined it.

Inhaling slowly and grabbing your paint again, you tried to fix the damage. You worked carefully, placing a new coating of red and orange over the smudged fingerprints, repainting the black lines only once the surface was mostly fixed. This time you paid more attention to steadying your hand, made sure the lines weren’t shaky.

Now there were no snarky comments about your repetitive choice of symbols. No sporadic knocks to jar you out of your trance and back into the conversation.

You’d have to accept this new emptiness in your nights.

Placing one final stroke along the side of the pebble, you clicked the brush down on your palette. You scrutinized the results. It wasn’t perfect, the black shone through the new coatings of orange and red, but it would have to do.

You took the stone with you into the forest, not entirely sure what you were looking for. Only what you weren’t.

You knew Smiley wouldn't be buried. He’d be burned. There would be no grave. Not for a creature like him.

So you stopped beneath a tree, crouching to brush away leaves gathered at its base. Moss climbed along the trunk in soft, green patches. 

He might’ve liked that.

You carefully placed the pebble down and cleared your throat. You stood there with your hands clasped, staring for a few quiet seconds.

You could almost hear Smiley mocking you for it.

Yet, for all his cruelty, he had helped you survive this place. Had brought you strange, unwanted comfort in the midst of the confusion.

This was all you could do to pay your respects.

But…

You frowned as your gaze drifted back to the rock. Or more precisely—at the black lines crossing over its body. 

Something inside you recoiled. At the stark black lines clashing against orange-red.

The air you breathed started to thin, becoming heavy with each inhale. You staggered back, heart pounding and then turned and fled, stumbling back toward civilization without looking behind even once.

You didn’t care what you looked like bursting from the treeline into the field between town and Colony House. Didn't care about the startled gasp of an elderly man strolling along the sandy paths.

All that mattered was being back amongst people. 

Your gaze drifted towards Colony House, the mansion almost blinking in the setting sun. Before you realised, your feet were already carrying you that way.

Staring up at the looming building, you took in the murmur of people all around. It calmed you down. The familiarity of the stench of weed, strong enough to even curl outside, stung your nostrils and lodged in your lungs. Unpleasant, but not unwelcome. Plenty of the residents greeted you with easy smiles.

“Are you here to see Ellis too?” a boyish voice called from the side.

“Hm?” you hummed back, momentarily disoriented. “Oh. Yeah, I suppose so,” you told the boy holding his trusty walking stick. In truth, you weren’t sure why you’d come at all. After leaving Colony House permanently, you started to feel like an outsider here.

Visiting Ellis did sound like a good idea though. It stirred warmth in your chest. 

You angled towards Ethan, spotting Victor close by, absorbed in his… tree measuring thing. “You, uh, helping Victor out?”

Ethan glanced over his shoulder at the lanky man. “Yeah. He says it’s important.”

Nodding, you watched the man and his single-minded focus in question. A trait you would’ve been jealous of in another setting, when work still earned money and education mattered.

“How’s the leg?” you asked when Ethan didn’t say anything else. You shifted your weight, hands sliding into your pockets.

“Good,” Ethan said. “I don’t need a stick anymore.”

You squinted at him. “Then why do you still have one?”

“For adventures,” he stated, completely serious. Like it was the most obvious answer in the world and you were silly for asking. He tilted his head. “Have you been on any adventures too?”

“...I guess you could say that,” you replied, lips twitching. “But I hope yours are more fun, bud. I’ll leave you two to it though. The day isn’t getting any younger and I’m not planning on sleeping here.”

“Okay. Bye,” he said, waving his small hand. 

You returned his goodbye, glad to have stopped any more questions regarding your “adventures”. Then you tentatively moved inside the mansion, accompanied by well known creaks and groans as you walked up the stairs. You nodded absentmindedly at those you recognised, careful to avoid getting pulled into any real conversations. 

Still, you caught snippets of something unnerving. 

A food shortage. 

Many of those you passed whispered about it. Talked about rotting plants. The influx of mouths to feed. As if the fourteen who died during the Colony House massacre and Father Khatri never existed to begin with.

You swallowed hard, irritation sparkling along your nerves. At the audacity of it all. 

Tian-Chen hadn’t shown any concern about a lack of food when you’d been there. The buffet warmers at the diner had been chock-full.

But if the plants were dying…

You didn’t give yourself room to think about it. Not now.

You found your way to Ellis’s room, low conversation drifting from within. Your fist hovered inches from the door. Something stirred deep beneath your spine as you hesitated. Considering the time, the creatures must be waking up. Dusk wasn’t too far off.

Still, finding out they awoke before sunset was a bit of a surprise all things considered. But at this point, you weren’t in the business of making assumptions anymore.

Gathering your courage, you knocked. The voices fell quiet. Then a woman’s voice called you in. One you knew well. 

Opening the door, you offered a tentative smile to the couple inside. Fatima sat perched on the edge of the bed Ellis lay recovering in.

“Hey, thought I’d come check in,” you said. “If that’s alright?”

Ellis gave you an easy, welcoming look. “Yeah, of course.” He shifted, trying and failing to get more comfortable. “You planning to stay here again?”

“Oh, no,” you said, clicking the door shut. “I’m going to stay with Kenny and his mother.”

Fatima’s expression softened immediately. “Good,” she said, relief slipping into her tone. “That sounds a lot safer than what you were doing before.”

Your eyes flickered to her, something startling about the warmth in hers. “How did you know about that?"

“Words spread,” Ellie said, giving a crooked smile. “I get not liking strangers in your house, but sleeping in a shed? That’s a little extreme,” he teased.

“And that’s how we learn our lessons,” you murmured, muscles twitching. “By making mistakes. But how are you?”

"Pretty good. Lying in bed all day’s boring. But at least I’ve got Fatima keeping me company,” he said, directing a toothy grin at her, gaze softening.

You met her eyes, your grin faltering when she failed to respond to Ellis. 

“Fatima?” you asked. Your voice seemed to startle her out of whatever had swept her attention away.

“Sorry,” she said, ducking her head. “I got lost in thought.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot, babe,” Ellis murmured, rubbing a thumb over the back of her hand.

“Things are a little hectic right now,” she said, tone dipping like she was reassuring herself as much as everyone else.

She didn't need to say it twice though.

“Even better to focus on resting then,” you said. Then you asked what exactly had happened to Ellis. “I was a little shocked so I didn’t really hear it,” you explained. Even then, the explanation this morning had been rushed. The focus was more on Smiley’s body and getting it inside.

And you learned it was Dale who stabbed Ellis—because of course it would be—after he tried to force those from the bus outside.

“They locked him in his room,” Fatima finished their retelling. “For everyone’s safety.”

“I guess…” you started at last trying to wrap your head around things, “it’s good he didn’t resort to cannibalism?”

They both stared at you for a second.

Then a startled laugh burst from Ellis, which he quickly tried to stifle, his features twisting into a grimace. “Man, I’ve missed you,” he choked out between pained chuckles.

Your lips lifted up even though it hadn’t been a joke on your part per se. “Sadly,” you began, standing up, “I have to go now. I still have to grab my stuff.”

Fatima stood up. “Of course,” she said, moving to gather you in an embrace. The warmth of her hands seeped through your clothes and into your back. “You can always visit again.”

“Yeah, don’t be a stranger,” Ellis continued.

You returned the hug, shoulders relaxing. You refrained from dropping your head to her shoulder, fatigue settling in as the buzz in your head lowered until your thoughts clicked again.

“I’ll try and come by more often,” you said as you parted from Fatima. “It was nice to see you both again. Even if the circumstances could be better.”

Ellis shrugged. “It’ll get better.”

“And you take care of yourself too,” Fatima placed her hand gently on your upper arm. “You look thinner,” she said quietly, concern flickering in her eyes as they searched your face.

“I’ll be living with Tian-Chen,” you said wryly. “So no worries there.”

And no worries indeed. The woman accepted you in her home without hesitation.

A home you now shared with the Matthews as well. You hadn’t realised they slept here too. Jade wasn’t around either. Knowing how much he enjoyed Jim’s presence, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Apparently the dark-haired man sometimes slept in the bar now.

After dinner, Kenny and you took your shitty mattress upstairs and into his bedroom, preparing to share the room for the upcoming nights. You ignored the shivers rolling down your spine as something plucked at your ribs.

You struggled to keep yourself contained. But even without opening up in the link, you were sure the touch came from amusement.

Maybe they already knew about this change somehow. Were prepared for it even.

But you didn’t want to think too hard about them. You hoped for an uninterrupted night of sleep for once.

“You take the bed,” Kenny said, dropping the pillow down as a finishing touch to the now doubled mattress. Tian-Chen had another spare hidden away and two were better than the one you used.

“It’s your bed.”

“So I decide what to do with it,” he retaliated. 

You huffed out a laugh. Sometimes he could be so much like his mother. Stubborn, yet kind. “Alright.”

His eyes landed on that wretched book, a corner peeking out from your bag. He nodded at it. “How far are you?”

“Oh… I caught up. But I don’t think I want to read it any longer.”

You had leafed through it, finding your fear written down so blatantly on paper by a man long dead—rejection because of these changes. It squeezed your heart, knowing your mother gave it. She always told you, you were a little different, but not to worry about it. Not to feel insecure when connecting with others was hard sometimes.

Why give you this book then? Why when she said the message reminded her of you?

Never once did she act like you were a burden. Was it just pretend? The strain of having to raise you alone could’ve been burdensome.

Something flashed in Kenny’s eyes. “You’re not like him,” he began, referring to the book’s protagonist, but you held up a hand to cut him off, heart trembling to keep things together.

“Let’s not talk about this before bed.” Not when it was dark and the creatures roamed outside. When another rollercoaster wanted to take you from the highest peak to the deepest low.

Yet as you prepared for bed—sharing the bathroom with Ethan as you brushed your teeth—Kenny went downstairs. He wasn’t tired yet, he had said.

Considering you were sharing bedtime with a literal child, you couldn't blame him. Without a working clock it was hard to tell the time, but you knew it was early. You didn’t much care right now.

Because, it had been a little hectic today. You were still upset with Boyd, but also wanted to know what they had done with Smiley. You itched to know. Asking Kenny right now was out of the question. Not with so many people in the house.

Curling up in his bed was a strange affair. It smelled like him and that tickled your brain wrong. Still, you were grateful for the bed. Already your back hurt less. Nights spent lying on that thin mattress felt kinda idiotic now. 

The creatures only had an easier time getting to you through that unfortunate decision.

You closed your eyes, listening. The low murmur of voices reminded you of Colony House. Of safety. It’s why you refused sleep for a while longer. Letting the usual tension drain away, knowing Kenny would be here soon.

You weren’t alone. And that lulled you in a kinder sleep than the past days ever offered.

Chapter Text

A strange sensation prickled along your spine, fingertips dipping down the bumps of your vertebrae. They clasped around the bones—not roughly, but demanding—and plucked on the nerves there like they were strings of an instrument.

Heat coiled in your belly as a low snare was pulled in a slow tease, rising to swallow you whole. It turned your limbs into a useless, jelly mess.

Someone crouched over your reclined form, hands keeping your squirming hips down. Another set kept your wrists pinned beside your head, their shadowed face hovering above yours, teeth glinting in the dark. A gasp tumbled from your lips when legs pushed yours apart steadily, weight settling against you.

There was shifting. Something warm and heavy sliding against you.

A pleased, inhuman growl rumbled in your ear as your body stretched—

You shot up with a heaving gasp, a hot, bright throb low in your belly coating your skin in sweat, the mattress sticky beneath your palms.

Your eyes darted around, immediately spotting the silhouette in front of the window. Swallowing, you peered sideways, at the bed on the ground, but—

Kenny wasn’t there. The bedding hadn’t been touched at all. The blankets still sat stiffly wrapped around the mattress, the pillow sat fluffed at the head.

Your first instinct was fear something happened. The next was confusion. Because if disaster had taken place, surely you would've heard? Or the creatures would be inside already.

And then you remembered. He sometimes fell asleep on the couch. You had even made fun of him for it before. Cursing internally, your gaze snapped back to the creature standing eerily still before the window.

Almost like it wanted to show that it had found you so easily.

“That must’ve been quite the dream,” the creature spoke, intrigue tucked beneath the bland tone. Speaking as if standing outside a second-floor window was the most normal thing ever. “Care to tell me about it?”

You heaved, heart only just beginning to slow. This wasn’t part of the plan. Kenny falling asleep somewhere else wasn’t supposed to happen.

Now they were here again. 

Miraculously, you must’ve kept your side of the link quiet. Otherwise he’d have commented on the dream’s contents for sure. Your cheeks still felt warm as you recalled the pressure low in your—

You shook the images off. You must really be cracking under the strain if this is what your dreams consisted of.

Slowly—as if any noise might betray you—you inched from the bed, winching at every small squeak the wooden frame made, never taking your gaze off the creature.

His head tilted.

Bare feet touched the cool floor, quietly padding over to the door. You reached for the doorhandle—

“Sweetheart,” he uttered slowly, sounding close to disappointed. You bit your lip, furious when guilt reared its ugly head. When that forgotten throb twitched to life again, deep and traiterous. “Why so quiet? Was it such a bad dream?”

You stood frozen, hand inches from the door handle. You should leave. Get Kenny. Yet, you twisted your head back, compelled by the smooth timbre of his voice.

“You can tell me,” he continued gently. “We understand yesterday was hard.”

“You sent me there,” you whispered, in lieu of answering, almost hoping he wouldn't hear. Because then you could still stop this. Pretend you never noticed his presence.

He remained quiet, and you believed he would remain that way. Your growing disappointment at that notion disturbed you.

“We believe you deserved to see," he said at last, jolting you. “They wouldn’t have told you.”

Pressing your eyes closed, you drew your hand back, away from the doorhandle, and held it close to your body. Then you turned fully toward the window and the monster beyond.

“I’m not going to thank you,” you said, keeping your voice low. You didn’t know the sleeping habits of most people here. If someone walked by and heard you, you’d be in deep shit. Well… Deeper than you already were.

His silhouette inclined in something like agreement, the brim of his hat tipping forward. But the creature gave no indication of saying anything else, his posture still in that disquieting way of theirs.

Your throat bobbed. A jittery curl of sensation tightened in your gut. 

“Do you mourn him?” you asked, choosing to prod at the link despite laying yourself bare that way. Curiosity stirred on the other end.

“Not like you,” he answered. Unbothered. Unfeeling. But a tinge of fury of sorts resided beneath. One he let you feel. He drew your presence near as if tugging you forward by the hands.

Anger, territoriality.  

Insult. 

Scandalised ego’s and a missing piece in the puzzle.

Your gaze dropped, recoiling from the link, feeling a few grasping presences try and coax you back as you tucked yourself away.

Of course they wouldn’t mourn. Not really. Why had you expected anything different?

You scratched at your bandages, damp with sweat, and grimaced as you realized they hadn’t been replaced yesterday. The fabric clung to your skin like a second hide. It needed changing.

“So no desire for a burial?” you continued, half unserious, half curious.

Amusement tinged his words when he spoke again. “That’s more for your kind.”

“Suppose it is.”

“Would you bury him if given the chance?” he asked, a hint of genuine interest in his inflection.

You thought about it, remembering your earlier sentimentality, but shook your head even though he couldn't see. “No. I don’t think so. You don’t deserve that much kindness.”

He made a thoughtful sound, continuing while dropping that faux friendly tone. “And here I thought you cared.”

Another stab of acrid guilt struck your chest. You glared to the side, but didn’t answer. Didn’t dare admit even a fragment of the truth. Unfortunately, the creature didn’t get the memo that this specific topic was over.

“The rock you left certainly implied that, see.”

You turned your glare to him, knowing how pointless it was, but perhaps he’d still feel the intention behind it.

“I guess it might seem that way to you.”

“Seem?” he mused. “Darling, you’re still a terrible liar. All that effort to make it pretty. You can’t pretend that doesn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t see why it matters to you. It was for him,” you said. "Not you.”

“Almost makes me jealous.” His head tilted. “You could always give the rock at the door,” he said, almost like it was an afterthought. Which you knew absolutely wasn’t the case. “As compensation.”

Your lips twitched. Amusement wanting to wring them into an unwanted smile.

“That one isn’t mine to give away.”

He made a thoughtful sound from deep in his throat.

“Will you open the curtain then?” he suddenly asked. You stilled, watching his shadowy form carefully, grin dropping.

“...Why?”

“So I can see you.” His voice lowered into an intimate murmur, his body sliding closer to the window.

Your heart skipped a beat as you wondered what could possibly be the purpose. To read you better? Make you feel vulnerable?

“So you can ask me to open the window too?” you muttered eventually, tapping a finger against your crossed arms.

“I see no point,” he replied dryly. “Unless you intend to risk the others inside.”

You scoffed, hairs standing on end at the cold reminder. “You say that as if you'd actually leave them alone.”

His resulting silence said it all. 

Chills trailed down your arms, turning them into goosebumps. It was easy to forget sometimes, in moments like these, just how diabolical they were. 

Their voices so often came out kind and gentle.

Only the ceaseless grin and hollow eyes betrayed them. Features you couldn’t see right now, but you could almost feel them. Pressing in on you, tight and claustrophobic.

“What killed him?” you asked, that dull ache is your heart remembering how soft Smiley’s hair was. How smooth his skin felt. “What are those worms?”

“An old nuisance,” he eventually drawled in that theatrical way of his. “And more recently, a foe."

It shocked you how truthful he seemed. He was weirdly forthcoming with his answers this time around. Usually he adored rubbing your ignorance of this place in your face.

“You can say that again,” you muttered, then stilled. Your head snapped up. “Wait, how recent is recent?”

They wouldn't react so vividly to a mere nuisance infected Boyd touching you, right? Unless they were just that… territorial over you, though you quite disliked how that made your stomach flutter. They certainly felt that way though. Snarling, metaphorical claws attempting to drag you back and away from the slightest skin on skin contact.

It still felt unreal. Preposterous even.

“What’s it that humans sometimes say? Time flies by when you’re having fun.”

Your mouth went dry, maimed corpses flashing before your sight; their definition of fun. 

So a long time then, you presumed. 

Their age was unknown. From what you gathered thus far, they were around when Donna arrived three years ago. Looked exactly like they did now. For all you knew they were decades older than they presented themselves.

“How old are you?” 

A warm laugh spilled from deep in his chest, sounding so real. “How about you guess, sweetheart.” His voice turned more husky then. Seductive even. “Got some digits you might be more interested in, though.”

Your face flushed. “Why would you say something like that?” you spluttered, mind once again flashing to what may or may not be between their legs. The dream came back scene by scene, knowing very well who sat between your legs.

“Hm? Where’s your pretty head wandering towards?” he said, smug amusement tainting his words. Heat crept further up your cheeks. You opened your mouth, but he beat you. “I meant those rocks you paint.”

Your mouth fell shut.

…Oh.

“Ever counted them?”

You frowned, stomping the flames in your belly down. 

Most were at Colony House. Abandoned after you fled. Despite that, people appeared to like them for some reason. Kept them around on the windowsills.

Cold crept over your skin. Did he know how many there were? Had he counted them? 

Glancing up again, you watched his steady posture—thumbs hooked in his belt, weight shifted sideways lazily—memorable even when muddled by a crooked curtain. You wouldn't even bother asking him why you should count them. By now, you recognised that tone; he wanted you to figure it out yourself.

“I should sleep,” you said quickly, unwilling to humor him any longer.

He chuckled under his breath, making you tense. “Sweet dreams, then. Although… you already had those, didn’t you.”

Your cheeks flushed, more mortification burning up your neck. “What do you mean?” you asked reluctantly, not particularly eager to embarrass yourself again, even as discomfort pooled in your stomach tinted with something you refused to name.

“It didn’t sound unpleasant, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You made some interesting, little sounds.” 

A palm pressed against the window. You swallowed, the silhouette of sharp nails etched against glass. 

“How lucky Kenny didn’t come.” His voice dipped into a purr, equal parts sultry and warning.

Blood rushed to your face, something sharp twisting in your loins. Only worsening the mortification of what might've happened had Kenny been here. You’d rather die than live knowing Kenny heard you.

The brush of a mind against yours, almost reverent in its gentleness, was too much to bear. You flinched back, nearly wishing he’d be cruel about it. That they’d rip at you, tear you into compliance. They’d done something similar before when Boyd touched you.

Yet they insisted on words and careful caresses. On horrible, accurate insights spoken tenderly.

“I was so right about you being a creep,” you said, the insult lacking punch. It came out dull. Flavourless.

Another chuckle slipped from the cowboy. “Merely making an observation, darling.” He brushed your mind again, a feathery light touch. “Wouldn’t do to have others hear something so private, wouldn't you say?”

“And you do get to listen in?” you snapped, cheeks still unbearably hot at having been caught moaning in your sleep. By a creature nonetheless. And this specific one at that.

“You haven’t sent me away yet,” he murmured, pitch lowering. “You’ve only gotten closer.”

You froze immediately. Only then noticing that you’d been unconsciously inching towards the window. Now you stood directly before him, a thin curtain the only thing keeping your gazes from locking. His other arm lifted, resting against the frame. 

Air refused to fill your body as his mind brushed yours a third time. But more. Closer. 

He pressed gently against you, never forcing, dulling the sharp edges inside you. Easing something that had been restless for far too long.

Your head tipped forward on its own accord, through lowered lashes you watched him mirror the movement. As if he meant to press his forehead against yours through glass and fabric. 

And something starved within you stirred from the torn lining Smiley nudged open. A piece that had yearned and cried and been silenced over the years, but now—

It hungered.

It latched onto the mind presenting itself so willingly, fueled by out of control hormones that hadn't had an outlet in so long and…

Your heart thudded, its beat mournful as it tried to drag you back. 

Back from what?

Your brows furrowed as awareness came back in a slow trickle as you obeyed the command. It noted the bedroom that wasn’t yours, smelling a little like sweat. And something headier. It saw your palm that now sat pressed against the curtain, dipping it against the glass. And the silhouette still waiting on the other side. 

Eyes widened in disbelief. Your hand retracted as if bitten. It had crept towards where his own rested.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, a waver rattling the words. Born from this burst of belonging that you couldn't begin to understand.

“Sometimes I wonder if he left because he didn't see you as his child,” mother said after drinking too much at her birthday party. It had been a statement. An observation. She hadn’t meant for it to hurt. “You go places we can’t follow sometimes.”  

You still leaned into the caress. Unable to motivate yourself into motion. Not when it felt this right. And for once, just once, you wanted to feel good in this shithole.

His presence rose like warmth at dawn, brushing every surface of your mind. Never deeper. Never more than you allowed.

Your defences shook, the star edging to the brink of collapse. You had expected him to exploit that weakness. Believed that was the entire goal.

But he steadied you.

And that cracked you faster than aggression ever could. You spilled over, body sagging closer to him. To earth and forest and something like old blood. A scent you wanted to press your nose into, wanted to embalm you.

The cowboy whispered your name, sounding achingly human to the point it could’ve fooled you. “Open the curtain.” 

Let me see you. 

“I shouldn’t,” you whispered back, the confession slipping out without you meaning to, fingers curling into the blinds.

“What’s one more transgression?” His own fingers flexed, ‘human’ again, their shadows peeking through the curtain. “It’s not like you’ll be letting me inside.” 

Show me what I do to you.

God, you wanted to so badly. The urge was overwhelming to the point it frightened you. 

And then the realization sank like a stone in water.

You wanted to watch them. Had always wanted to look right back. See their tells—fake and real—learn their expressions, their voice, their scent, their warmth, their touch—

Your scars pulsed, making you retract your hands before they grabbed the edge of the curtain. You balled them tightly at your sides.

“I should sleep,” you repeated, throat thick, drawing back from where you laid yourself bare in the link, his presence more gently entwined around you than last time. Not too tight, but encompassing like a weighted blanket.

“Of course,” he said after a while, perfectly polite. You wonder if he ever got frustrated. If they ever despised this little bit of power you had over them. “But I’d change those bandages first, sweetheart.” A slow tap against your mind and he pulled back. Physically and metaphysically.

There was more to the suggestion. You could feel it. A second breadcrumb perhaps. 

How he knew they needed changing you didn’t know. Even before they got you, they often knew too much though. Of course Smiley’s lessons couldn't protect you from that infuriating insight of theirs.

You closed your eyes for a second. 

There were bandages in the bathroom. Both Liu’s were adamant to keep a healthy stash. You could stretch the usage of the current bandages out, but they felt gross and itchy. Would likely keep you from sleeping. Plus, Kristi was serious about changing them once a day.

“Alright.”

The cowboy’s head tilted. Maybe quizzically. It wouldn't surprise you. Usually you argued with them. 

“Then I won’t keep you any longer.” He slowly stepped away, retreating from the window. “Sleep well, sweetheart,” he said quietly as a final greeting, with a confounding lack of teasing. He sounded calmer if anything.

“Wait,” you whispered, his lazy gait stopping instantly. He didn’t say anything, but you knew he was listening. You gulped, nerves kicking in. “Could you… stay?” You cringed immediately after, waiting for another smug remark.

“Would that help you sleep better?” An uncertain tinge saturated the words. Like he was unsure what to make of your request.

“Well… no, probably, but I’d like to…”

Feel that way again.

“continue, uh, talking.”

“You are just full of surprises aren’t you,” he stated, and this time the fondness was unmistakable. “You do need to sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

And with that he took the final leap. A distant thud followed. Shoes hitting the ground as he dropped from the roof. 

You stood there, trembling for some time. A smile wanted to tug your lips up. It did feel a little like you won this time. He hadn’t completely riled you up, hadn’t gotten you to listen to his command. Even if you hesitated. And asked him to stay a while longer. Like an idiot. 

Another itch overtook your back, right between your shoulderblades. Unbidden, your heartbeat sped up.

Slowly, you went back to the door.

You only needed to change the bandages. You didn't need to see the maimings underneath. Maybe that was the point however. The reason the cowboy laid out this particular crumb.

But as you walked in the hallway, down to the bathroom, you wondered. Could you even change them on your own? And if not… Did you want to wake Kenny only to have him see instead?

Your gut twisted, acid burning up your gullet. 

Showing Kenny meant avoiding the scars again. And right now, you were sick of hiding anyhow.

The bathroom was tucked just ahead, beyond the staircase. A deep, usually dark slope that gave you a fright more than once when someone stood at the bottom. Now you could count the stairs. If you squinted, you could even spot some rare dust in the corners Tian-Chen hadn’t managed to clean.

Your lips twitched.

She wouldn’t have handled seeing all these details of uncleansiness well. Maybe she’d go into another ‘spring’ cleaning frenzy had she been in your shoes.

You shook your head to clear your thoughts of such clutter.

Closing and locking the bathroom door behind you, you flicked the light on, blinking rapidly at the harsh way color popped into being. These houses and their horrid color schemes were killing your retinas right now.

The yellow that painted the kitchen infiltrated the bathroom too. Tiles stood out against the muted white of the basin and tub in a horrible clash. 

You opened the cabinet underneath the sink, quickly finding what you were looking for. Seems the Liu’s kept them at the forefront, so the search was short. Grabbing the rare, still wrapped set of bandages, you almost felt guilty for opening it.

Undressing slowly, you managed to remove the button-up from Boyd that became your temporary pyjama. Yellowish too, you realized with distaste. It slid to the floor. 

Standing only with the wrappings, lead began pouring sluggishly through your arms. 

You couldn't quite meet your own eyes in the mirror. Not with that haunted edge that made you look like a stranger. 

Not as haunting as what lay beneath the gauze. 

Your fingers fidgeted, trying to find the end of the long strips of bandages. Eventually you found it at your side, skin near your opposite shoulder pulling painfully as you reached, and just when you attempted to unwrap them,

The lights flickered.

You jumped in place, biting your tongue while you were at it. The metallic taste of blood burst on your tongue as you rubbed the sore muscle against your palate. You glared up at the ceiling fixture. 

Once. 

Twice it stuttered.

Then they turned off fully, plunging you into darkness. You frowned, unable to see anything for a second as your eyes refocussed quickly.

And as they did, you gasped, heart dropping. A shape stood behind you. Tall. Lanky. 

Close enough that you should've felt breath on your skin. 

Someone loomed over your shoulder—

Before you had time to react, the lights clicked back on. 

Yet, your eyes froze on the spot you swore you saw a person, blood rushing like a torrent in your ears. The mirror only reflected you.

Your neck twisted stiffly anyway. Just to make sure.

But no one stood behind you. Only those ugly, yellow tiles sat there.

The air had become oppressive. Pushing against your body as if it wanted to squish you into the floor. Your breath grew swallow, attention fugitively darting around. 

As if scared any motion might remind the phantom of your existence.

Of course, none of your imagined scenarios happened. Your shoulders lowered. Your sleep deprived brain likely just created an exaggeration of the shadows in the tiny bathroom. 

And then you startled. Again. This time because of a soft tap. tap. tap.

“Psst, are you in there?” a whisper slipped inside from the window beside you, lifting whatever emotion suffused the room with it.

You almost groaned aloud. Another creature. And this one at that.

“No,” you answered flatly.

“Don’t be rude. It’s bad to be rude. Tian-Chen thinks so too.”

The woman likely cursed them out in her head though. And rightfully so. Plus, this so-called ‘break from monsters for one night’ wasn’t going so well. Neither was the attempt to sleep properly for once. Your body nearly screamed for sleep, heart struggling to keep up with the stressful demand of wakefulness. 

And still you had wanted to talk longer with the cowboy. You tilted your head, frowning at that realisation.

“Hey,” the blonde girl said, a bit more chipper than smug this time. “Why don’t you let me in?”

You pursed your lips, watching your reflection grow more stormy. Grabbing the discarded blouse, you shoved your arms inside. You grabbed the bandage roll to take it with you.

“I could… help with quieting down more?”

You froze. That caught your attention. 

Cautiously, you listened whether someone in the house was awake. Aside from light snoring, nothing appeared aware of what was happening. That someone they trusted was about to consider what a monster had to say.

“What do you mean?” you asked, unexpectedly shaky this time, pulse still not having fully slowed down from the hallucination just now. 

“He only helped a little.” Irritation laced her voice. “You still don’t know how to remain open without sharing everything.”

You snorted quietly, glancing at where she stood hidden from sight. Was she talking about Smiley? “Yeah, well,” you grumbled, “I have other people to worry about.”

You weren't unlocking any window or door with others inside. Even if you had been alone, you couldn't imagine letting any other monster besides Smiley inside. Another pang hit you as you imagined whether you’d have let him inside again had he still been alive. Maybe you could've actually played a proper boardgame. 

No use dwelling on such thoughts.

Buttoning your shirt back up partly, you were eager to go back to bed. You felt uncomfortable changing with her here. You’d do it in the bedroom.

“You have a talisman in your bag,” she said, stopping your hands mid-motion. The subtle invitation had you flicker your eyes her way.

“Place it outside your bedroom and I won't go further.”

You went forward, lifting the shutters aside in one swift motion. Her eyes widened in surprise that you didn't believe for one second. An impish smile dimpled her cheeks. Her hair seemed somehow more bouncy since last you saw her.

Your eyes narrowed at her. “What game are you playing this time?”

She gained an innocent air to her, arms cradled behind her back and her body swaying side to side. Her hungry, penetrating gaze ruined the act in full. 

“None,” the blonde said. “I want to play with you too.” She puffed her cheeks up. “It's unfair. He got to see it all already.”

Hairs on your neck stood on end. The way her gaze trailed along your sides raised your hackles. “What do you think he and I did?”

Smiley barely touched you if that's what she was implying. Nor did he see the scars.

Her pupils dilated unnaturally fast. “I felt what you felt,” she said, fake cheer fading, arms dropping to her sides. “I want to feel you more.”

Your shoulders tensed. “That’s not a very compelling reason to let you in,” you said, a sickening sensation twisting your stomach. Fear. You reminded yourself she couldn't get in. That you could stall an inevitable recapture or death at their hands.

In all honesty, if one catched you again, you hoped it wouldn't be her. Heck, you almost preferred the headband lady. She gave less ‘creepy molestor’ vibes.

“Is there any?”

You swallowed. “Answer me this and I might let you inside.”

The creature remained still, not even her head twitching to indicate she heard. You pushed along, fake bravado lifting your chin in challenge. “Did this happen before? That ritual. Have you done it more than once?”

Her smile turned devious. “I might answer,” she said sweetly, “if you open yourself up for me.”

A part inside you flinched back. That nausea twisting your organs harder. Not even a sliver inside you wanted anything to do with this monster.

Her presence slithered like a slimy snake against you, oozing with a darkness you wanted to flee from. 

“Do I disgust you?”

“Yes,” you answered, brutally fast.

Yet, she smirked, not a single bit of hurt on her features.

“At least I don’t pretend,” she said, as soft as the purr of a slumbering cat. “Not like the others.”

Like you. She seemed to convey with a pointed raise of her brows. Pretending we’re capable of mercy. 

Anxiety spiked together with suppressed anger, wanting to snap its teeth at her. You inhaled, taking that horrible concoction and shoving it aside. You tried to imagine it locked away as you re-opened the link. Not relaxing into it. Never relaxing.

That only happened with the cowboy just now—

No. No thinking further beyond this. You kept a tight grip on yourself, the muscles in your face straining with concentration.

The creature noticed, malignant curiosity sifting in her eyes. You focussed on that sensation of disgust, pushing it towards the forefront. Let her see that. Nothing else.

She giggled. "You're so funny. I like playing with you.”

Carefully, she tested the edges of your presence, not pushing. Not yet. Just mapping the seams that were sloppy. Weak. Her eyes never left yours.

She lingered at an uncomfortably tender part. The hidden emotions, waiting in a broken treasure chest. Your composure started to splinter, her attention narrowing to focus pressure there.

And just when you were about to falter, she relented. You shuddered out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"You're learning,” she said lightly. “Instinct can be so intriguing.”

The blonde suddenly straightened from her usual light slump. “We have.”

Your brows furrowed, cradling your scattering self back inside after she let go. 

She smiled. “The ritual, as you call it,” she clarified. “We have.”

Your eyes widened. They’ve done it before… If she was speaking truthfully. Because the cowboy hadn't said that when you asked the same thing.

“Right,” you muttered. “I’m going to bed.”

Without waiting for a reply, you let the shutters drop again and left. You felt raw, stripped thin. But nothing had happened in the end. She hadn’t forced the bond beyond what you gave.

A tear tracked down your face anyway. 

Back in Kenny’s room, you crawled onto the bed, clutching the packages bandages close.

Nothing had happened, you repeated.

Nothing at all.

Glancing at the window, both relief and disappointment tangled together to see no one. Secretly having hoped the cowboy would've returned.

And you could call for him. You could. 

You wouldn't.

You’d sleep.

Tomorrow he’d be there again.

You ignored any further voices outside your window, cradling yourself close and welcomed a dreamless sleep.

“I can't join Julie,” you said, shrugging on a jacket. Victor was right; it was growing colder. The man stood outside, fiddling with his lunchbox, staring interceptedly at the ground and the rest of you. “I need to see Kristi. Didn’t get my bandages changed yesterday.”

Getting dragged by the Matthew kids into helping at the diner again wasn't on your agenda. Especially when they convinced Victor to come.

You swore he peered at you more, but that might just be because you were speaking.

“Alright, you're always welcome to join later?” Julie smiled brightly.

You shot her a glare without any real heat. “You just don't want to wash the dishes.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, mouth opening—

“Julie, come on,” Ethan interrupted impatiently.

“Coming,” she laughingly answered, going to grab her shoes.

The kids were soon ready to leave, Ethan grabbing his stick as you followed him out. Your chest ached for them no matter what you told yourself. Sometimes you almost blamed yourself for these kids' fates. Meagan's too.

You sighed quietly, feeling the porch’s boards bend underneath yours and Victor’s combined weight. He lagged behind, looking unsettled by the drawing Ethan gave him of the boy himself.

You pocketed your hands, licking your lips nervously. “Hey Victor?”

He hummed in acknowledgement.

“Bit of a weird question. If you don't remember it's fine…” you trailed off, meeting his gaze, seeing strain on his face already. He always disliked these inquiries. Never reacted well. You tried anyway. “Did those monsters ever just… take someone? Instead of killing them?”

His brows furrowed further. You regretted the question when you saw that strange, convoluted brain of his visibly at work. He was sharper than some people realised. 

What if he somehow called bullshit on the cover-up story now? Not that it really mattered. He wouldn’t tell a soul, you were sure.

And at this point, you didn't fully care anymore. It would come out. You could only hope for acceptance when that time came.

His hand tightened on Ethan’s drawing.

“You…” he began, looking away. “You shouldn't ask such things.”

Then he quickly walked after the Matthews’ kids.

You watched them go, forcing yourself to wave back when Ethan momentarily turned your way. 

While an expected answer, it wasn't a ‘no’. And that...

That might be telling.

It likely meant he did experience an oddity that he refused to relay. But he could also just want to avoid talking about the monsters entirely. He wouldn't be the first.

Yawning, you headed for the clinic, deciding to let this topic rest for now. The quicker that gross, itchy gauze was refreshed, the better. That shitty blonde creature had thrown you down the meatgrinder. You hadn't even bothered trying to change them yourself anymore.

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, wanting nothing more than to raze down your face. Next time, you wouldn’t engage her. She answered more directly yes, but…

You won't open up to her again.

That sticky residue still clung to your mind like a bad taste. 

You shuddered, pushing it away before you unconsciously reached for her. You stepped inside the clinic and searched for Kristi.

Being here had you tense up. The small hairs on the back of your neck began to stand on end. An oppressive air hung over the place, Boyd’s command to stay away ringing in your head again. Just below, Smiley still lied. It almost felt wrong to stand above him. 

Kenny told you the dead creature had dry and shriveled organs. Bile had been the only liquid inside. No blood whatsoever..

They were supposed to be dead per that logic. And how were they so warm?

You suppose putting logic over this place was, in itself, illogical. It had its own incomprehensible laws.

The hope was that Smiley’s bile could be used against them, Kenny had explained as you prepared his unused bed. 

Guy had been embarrassed about that this morning when you greeted him. You didn't tell him you'd have been more embarrassed had he witnessed your reaction to the dream.

You heard Kristi’s voice murmur from her room. The door stood ajar. She sat beside her pale, sweating fiancée. For a second you considered leaving, feeling like you were intruding.

But it really itched. The sensation dragged you forward. You rapped softly against the door.

Kristi’s head snapped up. “Hey, uh,” she stood up, wiping her hands against her pyjama shirt. She placed herself before Marielle. “Here to replace those?” She nodded at where bandages peeked from beneath your collar.

You nodded.

“Mind waiting for a bit?”

“Sure,” you answered, giving a sympathetic glance when Marielle shivered violently.

Kristi closed the door, shutting you out.

“You skipped out yesterday,” she later told you, light disapproval dripping from her words. Her hands made quick work of cleaning your scarring back. Some had festered a little, probably reopened because you decided to drag Smiley around, and got irritated from sweat.

An oversight of her own, she had said.

You barely heard her though, thoughts arguing with themselves. “Do you have a mirror? Or two?” you asked, voice feeble. “I want to see.”

“...Yeah,” she breathed. “Yeah, I can give you a handheld one.”

The woman crossed the room to rummage through a cabinet, returning with a small mirror. “Uhm, the restroom gives some privacy, but you’d have to—” she motioned towards your bare upper body “—cover up a little. Just to be sure.” 

You blinked at her, wondering if she believed you’d run through the halls half-naked. Then you remembered you originally lived at Colony House and understood. You flushed a little. Even if you had the level of shamelessness as some there, you still had those carvings to conceal.

“I’ll wear my cardigan.” Even if it was unnecessary in the end. No one else was around.

Your heart threatened to burst from your chest in the restroom. The ugly, fluorescent lights showed the weight you had indeed steadily lost since arriving here. Fatima had been right on that account. Many others had been as well.

Including some creatures.

Taking the cardigan off, you already saw some shallow cuts curling around your ribs. 

You almost choked on your next breath at the sight, fingers clenching around the mirror's handle. 

Slowly twisting your torso, you aligned the mirrors.

The light showed everything.

Bruises mottled healing wounds. Handprints of where they held you more firmly as you struggled lingered on your hips. The skin swollen in places. Not as much as you thought it should be.

Your vision spun, body toppling sideways. An arm shot out to steady yourself against the wall, its surface cold against a flushed palm. 

You wanted to look away. Didn't want to see what they did to you.

But you owed it to yourself.

Lifting the mirror again, you forced yourself to focus.

Circles were cut into your skin, akin to how the creatures stood in the cave. 

There was a small circle centered over a vertebrae in the midst of your spine. A larger one spanned from below your shoulderblades and down towards your lower back.

From them, thinner lines branched out like vines.

They wound along your shoulders, ribs and hips, reaching even to your front body.

Precise. 

Not a single cut choppy or drawn with a hesitant hand.

And every line converged towards the inner circle. A circle where a whole patch of skin had cleanly been removed.

All of it together was akin to river-like veins leading into a small pool. To feed a core. 

Not with blood. 

But with bile, dripping from stretched hands and sinking deeper than skin could ever allow—

Your hand came up to cover your mouth, swallowing a sob.

Stumbling towards the toilet, your stomach expelled your breakfast between sobs. Sweat had long since broken out. Your head felt light, sight blinking in and out.

When you came back to properly, nausea still churned. You stood up on shaky legs, flushing the toilet. You numbly washed up, rinsing your mouth. Put the cardigan on. Made the mistake of looking at yourself and—

Snapped.

A scream tore out of you. Raw and unfiltered. Lungs straining, voice breaking. Uncaring of who heard. 

They had torn into you.

Had written a claim onto your body. Like you were an object.

Kristi’s voice blurred through the door, the doorhandle rattling.

After expelling your whole lung capacity, you heaved a deep breath. Only after gulping down a few more breaths did Kristi’s words finally enter your ears audibly.

“—the door, please—”

You blindly reached for the lock, the door immediately swinging open afterwards. Kristi stood there. Haggard. Like you.

Whatever she saw on your face, it had her pull you into her arms without hesitation. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered, a hand coming up to cradle your head. “You hear me? You’ll be okay.”

Your lips wobbled, but no tears fell. You clung to her, clenching your eyes shut. You allowed her words to wash over you, deriving some comfort from them. Despite not believing in them.

After you stopped shaking in her arms, she drew back, studying you attentively. “Do you want to sit? I could get you some water?”

You nodded stiffly. “Could you.. cover them first?”

“Of course,” she murmured. She led you back to a private room and quickly set to finishing applying salve and wrapping your torso. 

You zipped from the water afterwards, Kristi right beside you.

“How’s Marielle doing?” you rasped.

“She’s getting there,” Kristi said after a while, nursing her own glass. There was a slight tremor in her fingers. “First couple days are the hardest.”

“And you?”

She had the gall to look surprised. As if it was strange you worried about her too.

“It could be better,” she admitted. “Things are rough. Doesn't help that one of those things is downstairs. Dead or not."

Thing.

You nearly winched.

That's how everyone perceived them. Or tried to in a vain attempt to insult the creatures. A slight to make oneself feel even a little better. You cussed them out personally and it did nothing to relieve pain.

“Suppose that problem will be resolved soon enough, at least,” you said, careful to keep a neutral tone.

You had honestly believed they’d burn Smiley immediately after the autopsy. For a moment you considered going down. To see him one last time.

You wouldn't. 

You had said your goodbye’s. And just like with human deaths here, it was time to move on.

So instead, you went back to the Liu’s house, glad to find it still vacant. After kicking your shoes off, you dragged yourself upstairs. And promptly dropped onto the bed, uncaring of your clothes. Sleep claimed you the second your eyes closed.

Muffled voices grated on your ears. You tried to reach them. Make them silent. Make them dead.

And the warmth around you was encroaching. Humiliating. Too enclosed.

Then there was that call.

Oh. You’re here now. Sleeping during the day isn't meant for you. Just as being awake at this time wasn't for him either.

Let’s play a game.

Strange how things change. He quite liked change.

This time I hide and you seek.

Something curled around you, joining brethren already pressed closer than you ever realised. They had an excuse now. Not that one was ever needed.

Come find me.

Chapter Text

Come find me…

Those words haunted you when you went outside again a few hours later, feeling otherwise refreshed as you adjusted the straps of your bag. You couldn't recall anything else from the dream. Try as you might, the details dissipated whenever you reached. Only blurry sensations remained.

Tight, enclosed and stiflingly warm. You had desperately wanted to break free from an unseen grip, but couldn't move. There was also the sound of a stream of sorts. Like being submerged in a river, with distorted voices reaching through the water.

The dream was hard to grasp. Combined with the message, you were a little lost on what to make of it.

You sighed, nuzzling your face deeper into your shawl when the cool damp of the mist crept through your clothes. Not for the first time you questioned why you even bothered. Why continue onwards when the chance to get out was beyond small? How many had tried and failed? 

But the idea of giving up was unacceptable. You’d never forgive yourself.

So you allowed yourself this one breather before heading for Colony House. There were some rocks that needed to be counted after all. 

You almost laughed incredulously. How ridiculous to even be considering this in the first place. Following the cowboy’s advice seemed like a poor decision overall, but that damning curiosity he instilled wiped caution away. 

His strange advice could wait however. In part because the reveal of the scars already cultivated a healthy dose of wariness. But you couldn't imagine your rocks would tear your sanity apart. 

You were also curious about something else. A missing aspect of the diner’s menu these past two days.

So you left for the forest.

The world quietened down around you, voices fading the further you strayed from civilization. Crossing into the forest was akin to stepping into a bubble each and every time.

It held a strange quality no other forest did back in the real world. There simply was less life in it. Beyond birds and insects, you’d seen very little proof of other animals scurrying around. And you’d searched extensively on your errands to gather herbs for Kristi.

You had tried to find paw- or hoofprints. Even droppings, gross as it was. But there was little proof of larger animals running around. Bunnies and hares, though, lived in the woods and clearings surrounding it. 

Leaning down to check one of the traps revealed how empty it was. Lettuce and apple slices sat untouched in the metal contraptions, browning around the edges. And by the looks of it, there hadn’t been any animals near it. No misplaced dirt, no grass that had been nibbled on in the immediate area.

A sense of unease settled over you. You felt watched. Glancing back, you studied long blades of grass and wilting flowers, unmoving with the lack of wind. Mist stuck to the petals and leaves in the form of dew. 

Nothing out of place.

You clucked your tongue, grabbing some of the lettuce, regardless of how old it was. You’d try to find the bunnies at the source. 

Their burrows weren’t deep into the forest, thankfully. 

Slowly, quietly, you neared the shallow dip in the forest ground where their burrows gathered. More leaves covered the ground compared to usual. The foliage above you begin turning orange, red and yellow. Some leaves snapped loose and drifted down to land before you as the trees shook them off.

You frowned, crouching behind a tree after leaving the lettuce on the ground. 

The bunnies sometimes ran a little from the burrows, hopping over to eat fresh food you’d leave for them. They were less cautious than prey animals should be in all honesty.

It made you believe they didn't have much of a natural predator in this odd place. Until humans found them. There usually just seemed to be canned food stocked miraculously, but there wasn't much in terms of meat.

The farm animals weren’t for consumption. You’ve heard tales of dogs too, but never saw one yourself. That’s why the small, furry herbivores became a delicacy. A population you tried to check occasionally to take stock.

You watched for quite some time. And waited for any twitching noses to appear. But the longer you sat there, calves protesting against the awkward position, the more you doubted they’d appear.

You’d neglected your duty to feed them in these past, crazy days. Even so, the lack of rabbits was concerning. They were typically active around this time. A lack of food couldn't be the reason why they hadn’t come out at all. 

Forgoing caution, you stepped towards the burrows. Hunching before them, you tried to see movement in the small, dark tunnels, throat tightening as different, broader tunnels wanted to replace them in your mind. 

You cursed the creatures for the flashlight you lost. It would’ve been handy now.

But after a while you concluded there was no movement inside. No sound either. Not in this one. Not in the next. Nor the one after. You leaned to pluck something furry off the ground, left close to one of the entrances. A tuft of greyish fur. 

If there was a food shortage, then the bunnies vanishing would be bad. It wasn't cold enough for them to hole themselves up either.

So why were they gone?

You sneezed, pushing your shawl down to rub at your nose and… inhaled.

A strange scent infiltrated your nostrils. Beyond the dampness of mist and earthy leaves sat something tangy. Overly sweet. You leaned back, sniffing.

It was rot.

Swallowing your excess saliva, you dropped beside a burrow again, pushing your face near the hole.

The scent drafted from down there. Your fingers dug into the ground, dirt creeping under your nails. Saliva coated your mouth again. Before you could stop yourself, your fingers began scraping dirt away.

You breathed harder as more soil flew away, revealing more and more of the inside of their nest, the tunnels they dug. The muscles in your wrists and hands protested. Even as that scent grew stronger and stronger.

The next time you stuck your hand in the burrow, your fingertips grazed something fuzzy. You allowed them to reach deeper, wrapping around a furry, cold body and tore it free from the earth.

Limp, stiff, patches of fur missing and unmistakingly dead.

A rabbit.

You felt more saliva pool in your mouth, hunger gnawing at your stomach. You didn't remember pressing the dead animal to your face and inhaling deeply.

Until fur tickled your face.

Your eyes snapped open. 

Revulsion tore into your organs. You immediately let go, hands flailing to catch yourself as you fell backwards. You stared at the rabbit in horror, its glazed over eyes looking back.

“Holy shit…” you breathed at the animal. “What the fuck.”

A snapping sound broke through the quiet.

This time you jumped up, spinning around instantly, eyes unblinking as they darted over your surroundings. Fearful someone saw. Someone heard.

But there was nothing. 

Just trees. Only trees.

You looked back at the bunny reluctantly. The small animal looked like it had died pretty recently. There wasn’t much sign of decomposition. 

Reluctantly, you inched towards the collapsed burrow again, the top of it clawed away as if done by a wild fox. Not a human being. You swallowed. Reluctant as you were, you had to know whether there were any alive.

Carefully sticking your hands inside, you patted the ground of the nest. Until you felt more furry bodies. All cold. All dead when you removed them one by one.

You lined them up. They didn’t appear to be sick. Some had clearly been dead longer, showing more signs of decay.

Your mind shot back to the rumors. Of the soil being poisoned. Crops dying. And if crops were dying because of poisoned soil then maybe it killed the bunnies too.

You frowned, studying the soil, the trees. Everything here seemed fine. And they obviously wouldn't have eaten anything rotten, nor did they look malnourished.

Perhaps this place was messing with you all. Punishing everyone for fighting back.

You’d relay this to Donna. And Boyd maybe…

Not the part where you tried to… to smell them. They didn't need to know that. You'd gladly forget that part. But these sudden deaths were alarming. You were pretty sure the other burrows would give similar results.

You felt a small twinge of sympathy for the small creatures. Even if it was hypocritical to feel that way as one of the sole predators they had in this place. 

Grabbing one—the first you took from the burrow—you decided to bring it with you. Donna used to hunt. Maybe she could make a better deduction.

Wiping dirt on your thighs, you took one last glance around you. Just like before, nothing appeared out of place. There was just this sense of eyes on your neck.

It made you poke at the monsters, thinking they might be the cause. The sensation that returned was the same as always during the day. Dull, but present. They were likely asleep then. Not that you knew what their sleep was like. Maybe they still had a level of consciousness with whatever partial omniscience they had. 

How else could they know what residents said throughout the day?

Starting the relatively short trek to the pathways leading to Colony House, you pushed your shawl back over your nose. You kept smelling the dead rabbit, mouth watering at the scent of decay. It was disgusting. Shame accompanied you with every lift of your feet. 

Yet… you still felt the ghost of its fur on your lips and found the memory didn’t upset you as much as it should.

You couldn't muster up enough motivation to be disturbed by that revelation.

You’d just… be more careful next time. And wouldn’t shove dead things against your face. The creatures probably infected you with some sort of… tolerance.

It couldn’t be you. 

Pushing twigs aside, you stepped out of the forest, breath lightly fogging before you. Not many people were outside today. The creeping cold of the fog deterred plenty. The few actually out barely blinked when you passed with a dead animal and dirt scuffed knees and hands. 

But nearing Colony House, you looked up when a second set of steps joined you. You blinked, glanced sideways. And then your breath hitched.

From an intersecting path came a man. The buzzcut, the tilted up chin, hands pocketed like the very ground below belonged to the man. And… rope slung over his shoulder?

The man from the bus. 

You swallowed. He met your gaze, eyebrow ticking up as his eyes trailed down to the rabbit. 

“Hey?” you said cautiously when he began to walk beside you, following the same route. Tension quickly swallowed oxygen from the air with every shared step.

He eyed you for a split second, jutting his chin up in greeting. “What’re you doing?”

Your brows drew together. The man, Randall, you had learned in passing, made you uncomfortable. You had seen him pass by more than once. Seen him sit on top of the bus and watch others like he was some authority figure passing down judgement.

Not once did he approach you about that night. But you felt his gaze whenever you walked past, his eyes lighting with recognition, face serious.

He hadn't forgotten. You were sure of it. 

You cleared your throat, sniffling from the dampness left by the faded mist. “I’m bringing this,” you raised the bunny to him, “to Donna.” He didn't even look at it though, but you swore his face twitched. 

“Right. Then I’m sure you don’t mind answering something for me.” Your teeth shut, that familiar twinge of pain lancing along your jawline from the habit.

“See, I’ve been thinking about that night.” The man stopped, forcing you to do the same. Your shoulders tensed when he turned your way. “Because no way did a ditch fuck you up that bad.” He stared down his nose at you. “And we both know it.” 

Your face grew carefully blank, mind strangely quieting. Numbing. You sighed, short and without patience. 

"And?"

Your lack of reaction was clearly not what he expected, his brows cinching together. “And?” Randall scoffed, disbelief flickering through his eyes. He stepped closer, making you stiffen. His broad shoulders made you feel smaller than you were. The muscles in his arms flexed. “Are they threatening you?”

“What?” you asked, frowning at him. “Who?”

“I think you know already."

You glanced towards Colony House. So close, yet feeling like it was miles away with Randall’s attention on you, depleting mist revealing how deserted the general area was.

“I genuinely don’t,” you said impatiently, not too keen on the risk of eavesdroppers. “It seems you're implying I’m forced to stay quiet. I’m not.”

The expression on his face darkened. “So what then? Was it an act gone wrong?”

You snapped back to him, fingers clamping tighter on the rabbit’s ears. “Wha—” you began, genuinely confused now. “Hold on. What are you talking about?”

“Were the monsters supposed to kill you or are you just that bad at dying?”

You stared at him for a good while, completely dumbfounded. You could barely believe your ears. A hundred words flew through your mind, but you managed only shock and startled anger in the face of such callousness. “Excuse you?” 

He smirked like he got you, shoulders sloughed in a way you could only describe as arrogant. “I think the only reason you’re still ‘alive’ is because I caught you when things didn’t go as planned.”

You faltered, expression slackening. Holy shit. This man genuinely believed…

“You think it’s all an act?” you said slowly, trying to wrap your mind around it. “You’ve been here how long, sitting in that damn bus, and believe none of this is real?”

“You do?" Randall took another step your way. Your back turned straight, trying to make yourself larger, lips curling back. Even as your heart stuttered. “Or is that because you're in on it?”

His gaze slid past you, another scoff escaping him. “You can’t make this shit up,” he muttered.

Confused and still in shock, you glanced behind you. Donna stormed over with a downright murderous look, lips and brows downturned, fire in her eyes directed towards the man still too close to you.

“You,” she said to Randall, coming to stand slightly in front of you. “need to start minding your business.”

Randall stepped back, hands lifted in the air in mock surrender. “Just trying to make sense of some things.”

“You can go do that somewhere else.”

“Alright.” He nodded. “Alright. I understand. I’m sorry.” Randall turned your way. “To you as well. I was only curious.”

Donna narrowed her eyes while you nodded, not believing him for a second.

“Then get the fuck to your bus. Day’s almost over.”

He smiled, hands lowering to his sides. You sighed, glad to continue. Especially with Donna having found her way to you. That made everything so much easier. 

But Randall’s expression faltered.

Then his fist struck out. Fast, hard.

You barely registered what was happening. Even after Donna hit the ground.

After a short, pained cry left her.

You could only stare for a split-second as the woman groaned. Randall also merely watched. Then something in his posture shifted. Grew more certain. And the first trickle of fear buried inside your chest.

Donna tried to stand up, body failing her immediately as she toppled back down. 

That snapped you into action. You dropped the rabbit to the ground. “Donna!” You tried to crouch beside her, but froze when a knife pointed at your chest, inches from actually touching you. The blade looked recently sharpened, glinting in the fading light. 

It would slice through flesh so easily. Sick pooled in your stomach.

“Pick her up,” Randall said urgently, jerking his head at Donna. “Now.” All smugness had melted from his face, tension snapping into his body like a rabid animal.

“Are you crazy? If you wanted proof, you could've asked—”

“Pick her up!” he yelled, voice deepening from the force, fingers tightening around the knife’s handle to the point it shook.

You gulped, watching his throat bob too. Slowly, you lowered beside the fallen woman, reaching for her arm. You slung her limb around your shoulder, helping her stand up. Stumbling, faltering and steadying as she leaned fully against you. 

“You don’t have to do this,” the woman slurred, but you were unsure if it was aimed at you.

Trembling, you turned towards Randall, eyes keeping him and the knife in sight. Darting your gaze around, you felt hope die down when no one showed up. Everyone was inside. Too far away. May not even have heard the commotion. You tightened your grip on Donna.

“We’re going on a little trip,” Randall said, voice tight.

Your trembling fingers pulled the rope tighter until a small grunt left Donna. The woman was still a little out of it, head stubbornly held up despite it. Randall watched you like a hawk, making sure you actually tied her up. There was no possibility to leave the bindings loose enough for her to break free.

Donna met your eyes, severity hardening her gaze. Your own face was set in a grimace too. The day was nearly over. And she was clearly not ready to die because of some guy’s delusion.

You weren't ready to be captured again either.

Cold continued to wash over your body. 

You needed to get out of here. They would die. Your fate… likely lay in the cave.

Glancing at Randall, he stabbed his knife into a tree, twisting the blade without a care in the world.

That arrogance of his had returned in this isolated area, the fallen RV revealing just how far away he took you both. He looked wholly proud of himself. Your teeth snapped together, a flash of his mangled corpse cutting through your mind. 

A fate deserved with this stupid stunt.

You hadn't dared speak when he shoved you in the van. When he tied your wrists together. Then Randall floored it, taking you further and further from safety. 

Perhaps you should’ve called for help when you still had the chance. When Colony House was right there, filled with people willing to fight for their house leader.

“And now?” you asked hesitantly, barely able to stop a crack of fear from entering your voice. 

Even if you ran, tried to get help still, you wouldn’t make it in time. Not for Donna. Not even for yourself. 

Randall looked your way for a mere second. Dismissive, like you didn’t even matter. Self-satisfaction curled on his lips. “We wait.”

You clenched your fingers, rope digging into your skin. You had to bite back the urge to lash out at him. Body screaming to do something. Anything. 

Otherwise… 

But as you checked him over… You knew fighting wasn't an option. He had a knife. You were still not fully healed, and your hands were bound.

A rough chuckle left Donna. Scorn sat heavy in her downturned mouth. “You really are a stupid piece of shit,” she told Randall. Blood still dripped from the wound on her forehead, blue already smattering around it.

“What,” he said, “because I called you out on your bullshit?”

“Because you’re going to get us killed,” she spat.

He started to speak, but…

Something crossed your mind. Something that curdled on your tongue like acid, burning and impossible to ignore.

It might save you all. Even if it felt akin to ripping your skin off.

“I can s-still prove it’s real,” you stammered out, syllables tumbling over one another.

Both fell silent. Randall pulled his knife free, turning properly towards you, a brow raised in challenge. 

You tried to swallow, but your muscles wouldn't cooperate. “I… can’t show you the monsters. But I can show you what they did to me.”

A dense quiet settled over them. They both looked at you carefully now.

“My back,” you continued hoarsely. “There’s all the proof you need.”

Randall eyed you with distrust. He shifted stiffly. A mixture of emotions flashed over him. Suspicion. Alarm. Something you thought might be… fear.

It vanished quickly, his shoulders straightening.

“Alright,” he said, tone strained again. Then he did something surprising, shocking both you and Donna; he presented the knife, its blade dipping towards you as if offering to cut the rope. “Go ahead. Prove it.”

Your gaze darted over his face, trying to make sense of his decision. Was it a test? Or simply so you could cut through the rope and remove your upper garments?

The way he leaned back against the tree, tense, arms striving to look relaxed at his sides... He didn't trust you. That was for sure. His eyes were locked on you, keeping your hands in sight.

You took a few steps towards him to bridge the gap, reaching forward. Never did your gaze stray from his, seeing every barely contained twitch. Donna watched quietly, somehow fueling your nerves.

And when you tentatively lifted your wrists to him, you felt this… surge. Of anger. At being everyone’s pinball, taking hit after hit. And for what? Just to hope you’d survive one more day?

You pushed it down, breathing slowly even as you desperately wanted to gulp down breath after breath.

Presences prodded at you, nudging at the star that you tried to hold in your palms. But it slid like water through your fingers, flashing bright and loud.

And you were sure… they knew. 

They knew, they knew, they knew—

They whispered nonsensical things. Purred sweetly like they had you already. 

And now there was no window. No illusion of safety. No smooth voice to make it seem warm and inviting to follow them outside into the cold caverns.

There was only the forest with a horrible chance of escape between countless trees. A road that would lead back to town in time only if you could convince Randall to hand over the keys.

That hardened expression of his didn’t bode well for any of you. Whatever insane idea he had, he was still clinging to it.

But the blade remained up and you pressed the rope against it, letting him cut through the thin strands with a sharp pull. You flinched when the knife passed near your face, frightening despite not getting all too close. The pieces of rope dropped with a whisper to the ground.

“Now back away,” Randall said, knife still pressed tightly in his palm, “and turn around.”

You walked back to Donna, who started to look a little more worried—

“No,” the man behind you said, making you twist back. “The other way.” He gestured sharply to a tree opposite Donna. “With your back towards me.”

You made eye contact with Donna, her expression impossible to understand.

Turning to the tree, you already felt exposed, stomach jumping to your throat.

Without further prompting, you began undressing, keeping your focus firmly on the bark. Thinking of the splits in it, the small patches of moss growing on it. Not of your hands reaching up. First for your shawl, then your jacket, shirt and—

You tried to pull the bandages off, fumbling with the intersected parts, hating how you couldn't see the others. What would they think? Donna who knew there was more to the story. Donna who had drank shitty alcohol with you at night when everything got too much. 

Then, the gauze loosened. Unwrapping, revealing and gathered in your hands one strip at a time.

Exposing you to Donna’s quiet gasp, and Randall’s horrible silence.

Afterwards there was nary a breath, nor a shift. You could almost feel the weight of their stare. Tracing the lines, the bruises.

Donna said your name, but whatever else she had to say, you wouldn't find out.

Footsteps hastened over, cutting the woman off. You stiffened.

But—

Donna grunted, a thump coming from her direction.

You quickly spun on your heel, clutching the bandages close to your chest. Then your eyes widened.

Randall had one hand balled in Donna’s shirt, pushing her harder into the tree,  his other hand pressing the knife to her neck.

“This what you do?” Randall snarled into the woman’s face. “Huh? When people don't listen? You carve them up?”

“I didn't know any of this either, you piece of shit,” she said, slightly hysterical while trying to pull away from the blade. “You knew more than me.”

"Stop!" you cried out, feet rooted in place, unsure whether you should get closer. Not when he looked ready to pop a vessel and tear a hole in Donna. You had to calm him down. “It’s those—” You swallowed, “those things that did this. You think I’d defend her if I saw her amongst them?”

“Maybe she wants you to think—”

“At least believe we aren’t safe here!” you snapped. “They’ll come soon and they’ll kill you.”

Randall breathed heavily through his nose, eyes boring into Donna’s still. Then he let go, looking straight ahead. “Then why haven’t they killed you?”

He turned toward you, body geared to attack, but barely met your eyes.

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered, like the creatures would hear and mock you for your ignorance. “But please, let’s get out of here.”

His eyes bounced around, thoughts racing inside that skull of his. You still prepared for a fight. He put the keys in his right pocket. You weren’t going to win a fair fight. Not against him. Especially with the knife clenched in his fist. 

You’d have to try for your sake. For Donna’s sake.

But he nodded. 

He shoved his hand into his pocket and threw something your way. You scrambled to catch it while keeping yourself covered. You turned it in hand. The keys. Your head snapped up, brows raised in surprise. 

“Go back,” Randall said, still not quite looking at you.

“What…?” You took a step forward, shoulders hunching as a shiver ran through your frame from the chill. “Not without Donna. You need to come too.”

He shrugged. “Then you stay.”

“Seriously?” Donna began to speak, an incredulous laugh shaking her voice. "You still want to stay here?”

“We need to leave,” you said, glaring a hole through his thick head, frustrated at his completely irrational stubborness. “If you want to die so badly, fine, but I’m taking Donna with me.”

The window to get away was narrowing by the second. This shithead needed to get out of the way. Preferably before nightfall.

When he just stood there, your patience crumbled. You began walking their way, a growl lodged in your throat. But faltered when the hand holding the knife flexed. He finally met your eyes, none of his arrogance remaining. If anything… he almost appeared frightened, sweat forming on his temples.

“Guess you should put your clothes back on then,” he said stiffly, turning Donna’s way. He lifted the knife and your heart dropped.

In the split second you needed to make a decision, he already raised it close to her, ragged threats spilling from Donna’s mouth, her eyes wide in panic as he neared.

You ran forward, bandages falling from your grasp—

His grip tightened around the handle. You wouldn't make it. He was going to kill her. 

Then he cut through the ropes, a sharp snap sounding as the strands separated. 

You stopped so abruptly, you nearly slipped on the leaves. Randall removed the ropes bit by bit, stepping away cautiously when Donna was free.

She glared at him, lifting her chin. “Only smart thing you did since coming here,” she said, looking ready to tear him a new one. She turned your way, barely contained fear flickering over her face. “Time to go.”

You nodded sharply. You gathered your shirt, rapidly putting it on, jacket and shawl flung over your shoulder. “Randall,” you called when he failed to move. “You coming or what?"

He glanced at the RV for a second, his face twitching in that odd way of his. Thankfully he finally started walking, pocketing his knife. You relaxed a fraction, relieved that he listened at last.

But you still weren’t out of danger.

The purring in your mind had turned jittery with thrill. The sun was close to vanishing. Their delight rumbled in your skull. You tried to gather yourself, scraping the fear behind a wall.

And just before you fully shut them out, that horrible, mocking laughter shook through the web.

Cold sweat trickled past your hairline. 

They could go out faster for all you knew. Try to catch you all while darkness had barely settled.

You quickly followed Randall, trees blurring past you, knowing you could make it back in time still. You’d simply have to be fast. You rushed past the toppled RV, adrenaline kicking muscles to move nearly robotically in its haste. 

Donna hurried alongside you, meeting your eyes as you neared the road, sharing her distrust for the man waiting there through narrowed slits. The both of you kept Randall in sight the whole time. Even as you took your first step on stone pavement, nearing the van.

Randall stood beside the vehicle, fidgeting slightly. His attention was on something else however, head tilted as if he was waiting for something to come down the road. 

You almost didn’t notice. Too busy with other things. 

You unlocked the van, the mechanical lock springing open with an audible click. Immediately you went inside the driver's seat, adjusting the chair to sit comfortably enough as you started the vehicle. You flung your jacket and shawl to the back.

“Randall, get inside,” you nearly yelled, glaring at the asshole outside, before slamming the door shut.

Donna, who sped to the passengers seat, had stopped with just one foot inside. “Jim?”

You frowned, tracking her gaze down the road—

And sure enough, Jim was walking up from the distance. You had to fight to keep your mouth from dropping open, beginning to connect some dots.

Jim asking questions, Randall asking questions. This sudden escalation…

They had to have been working together. This couldn’t be a coincidence.

This man that had been sharing dinner with you at the Liu’s, awkwardly trying to make smalltalk about past jobs had been in on this.

Your blood began boiling, fingers tightening on the wheel. Your head felt like it was spinning, pulse ticking on your temples.

You pushed out of the van again, ignoring Donna’s warning calls. Walking briskly to meet Jim halfway, you grabbed him by the collar before he could finish whatever he was saying.

“You motherfucker,” you hissed. “Were you trying to get us killed?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He pulled himself free, and you let him, fingers curling by your sides. “Randall? What is this?”

“Change of plans,” he said, feigning nonchalance.

Jim looked you over, then Donna, spotting her head trauma. “Look, I don’t know what he did,” he said. “But I have no part in you being here.”

“Why are we here at all?” you asked, voice shaky with barely contained rage, eyes flitting to the sun no longer visible above the tree tops.

“Doesn’t fucking matter. It’s not happening anymore,” Randall answered.

“I don’t understand,” Jim began, confused and way out of his element. “You wanted this—”

“Enough!” Donna hollered. “Everyone, get in the goddamn van!”

Everyone froze for all but a second. Then burst into action. You rushed back to the van, pulling a stunned Jim along. You pushed him to sit in the back with Randall. The older man’s face was pale, grimacing as if in pain. You pushed down your guilt at the rough treatment, already hurrying back into the driver seat. You didn’t even bother to buckle up. 

There was no time. You had minutes. Some stars already peeked out above you, shining in a slowly darkening sky. 

Everything inside you screamed to hurry up—and that cost you precious seconds when nerves messed your coordination up; switching gears sloppily, making the car whirr mechanically. Pressing the pedal too far too fast, wheels skidding before finally gaining a grip on the road. 

The van swerved side to side, your hands fighting to keep the vehicle straight.

And then you were off. Speeding past the treeline, the road feeling like endless grey splitting the forest in half. No one spoke. You kept your attention on steering you all to safety. The tension in the car be damned.

You were so close to town. It reminded you of your first arrival here. Panicked, worried you’d be late—even if for a very different reason.

Perhaps you should’ve seen it coming then. 

You twisted the wheel sharply, uncaring how wide a berth you took as the road curved.

And in the turn, a man walked in the road.

You gasped, watching fear form on the man’s face as you raced towards him with high speed. The gun in his hands wouldn't stop the force of the car, you thought vaguely.

And all the sudden time slowed down. 

Donna’s shout and panicked grasping for the wheel felt like an eon passing. Jim and Randall’s alarmed yelling trickled past your eardrums, their hands clasping firmly around both front seats.

The distance between the man—Boyd, that was Boyd—vanished quickly. His familiar features terrified as his gun hand faltered.

Then time resumed.

And you had to act. 

Now.

You slammed on the brakes, the van swiveling as it was forced to stop. You couldn’t keep the car straight, felt it spin in place. 

Once. 

Twice. 

Your stomach contents sloshed side to side, muscles fighting to gain grip on the car.

Then the world lurched sideways, trees turning horizontal as the van toppled on its side with a loud thump. Your body slammed against the door, vision blackening.

Then it was just breathing, groaning, shouting—a loud ringing in your ears. Pain exploded inside your skull.

Your lungs convulsed around short, shuddering inhales, barely able to push the air back out again. Your vision was blurry when you re-opened your eyes, taking in splotchy light and a face as you craned your head.

Donna's face became visible, the blur ebbing away with each blink. Worry shone in her eyes, relief only barely breaking through. Her hair sat askew, sticking to her clammy skin. Her body hung loosely against the belt constricting her torso. The only thing keeping her from falling atop you.

You followed the wound on her forehead and realised distantly that you now shared head trauma.

She turned to look behind her. “Boys? How you doing back there?”

“Just,” Randall grunted, close behind you, “peachy.”

“I’m… also fine,” Jim followed, pain strangling his words. 

“That was his second car crash,” you muttered.

“Yeah, well, it’s going to be his last if we don’t get out,” Donna said, answering words you barely remembered slurring out.

In the back of the van the gate creaked, giving way with some difficulty. More light flooded the cabin as it was pulled open with a grunt of effort, metal scraping over the ground.

You wanted to look, but even a slight twitch made you nauseous. “Donna, how’re we getting out?” you asked, tongue stumbling over the words, heart beginning to beat faster. And with every beat your head pulsed. Your vision was spinning, returning to normal whenever you blinked. Only for it to start spinning again the moment you opened them.

That was bad. Everything about this was bad.

“We’ll get you out,” Boyd said from the back. He must’ve opened the back. “No one gets left behind. Randall, Jim, can you two walk?”

Both gave a short “yeah”, their boots clanging against the side of the fallen vehicle as they moved out.

“Then help me get the van upright.”

“Boyd,” Jim’s voice rang distantly from outside, “I have a talisman. We could go to the RV. We’ve done it before.”

“We have multiple wounded people here. We wouldn't make it there.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“I say we straighten the van, hope it still works and get the fuck out of here.” A hint of impatience infiltrated Boyd’s tone.

You sympathised. The sky was growing darker, the stillness of night creeping over the abandoned road. Yet, strangely, you swore you heard something like crickets, but louder. You’d never heard crickets before in this place. Maybe the hit you took was worse than imagined.

You squinted through the cracked windshield to the trees across the road. You tried to spot anything out of place. Creatures. Animals. Anything that posed a threat.

For now there was nothing, but your fear bubbled under the surface, making you check over and over.

You waited for the men outside to begin lifting and pushing, bracing yourself, holding onto the sides of your chair. 

“We’ll be alright,” Donna said quietly when their hands curled under the van. Boyd counted to three and then slowly, they lifted until the car tipped on its axis, pulling itself back on four wheels.

Donna and you swayed with the force, grabbing anything to keep stable as the vehicle straightened itself. Your body kept trying to tilt to the side. You regretted your decision to forgo the seatbelt, bones aching.

Glancing out the window, you met Randall’s eyes, his face red as he panted. He looked away. Boyd then took his place and opened the mostly functional door. It only required a little more force to open it.

“Hey, kid,” he said, “We’re going to move you to the back, alright?”

You nodded, winching as your neck cracked painfully. “No rapid movements. Keep your spine straight.” His hand steadied your neck as he helped you out, Jim aiding in easing you down despite blood smearing the side of his face.

They brought you to the back, settling you carefully against the side. You noted how none of the windows had broken. A small miracle. One desperately needed.

Randall and Jim climbed into the back as well, taking their own spot inside.

“Jim, give me the talisman,” Boyd said, reaching his hand out.

Jim handed it without question. The sheriff swiftly moved out of the back, closing the gate firmly behind him. A moment later, he took your spot in the driver’s seat, clicking the belt shut like you should’ve.

You watched him hang the talisman on the sun visor on Donna’s side. “Keep that steady.”

She nodded.

And you allowed your body to lean against the wall, knowing that, no matter what happened next, the creatures wouldn’t be getting in.

That was the only good part about any of this. All you wanted was to get that bunny to Donna and count some fucking rocks. Now you had a concussion. Jim was bleeding from his head too. Randall had bruises forming on his arms.

Additionally, Donna and Randall now knew about the scars. You didn’t know how Randall would handle that information. You didn’t trust him. At all. Donna would honor its secrecy for as long as needed, but Randall? He was proving to be a time bomb with faulty wiring. One wrong move and he’d explode.

You kept your gaze on the floor of the van as Boyd turned the keys. The engine sputtered, but didn’t turn on. He tried again with the same result.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I’m going to check the engine.”

The sheriff popped the hood open. And from the cursing, you didn’t think it was good.

You looked up, meeting the tense gazes of the men opposite you. They looked pale, shaken. You wondered what you looked like right now. Probably like shit if how you felt was any indication.

The third attempt didn’t fare better after Boyd joined again. He started cussing some more, trying a fourth time still without success.

That’s when it dawned on everyone; this… was where you’d all stay tonight.

“Guess you’ll have it your way still,” Randall muttered to Jim.

The look Jim gave him showed how done he was with the other man. He wasn’t alone. You were a little tempted to throw Randall outside, make him face the creatures like he seemingly wanted to.

Slowly craning your head, you saw how dark it had become already. You could barely distinguish anything outside the headlight’s reach, your sight unable to adjust within the beam of light. You clasped your hands together. Soon the creatures would come looking, their cries foreboding their arrival.

You could check. Prod at them, but…

Somehow it felt more frightening now. Too real. A van wasn’t the same as a house. It didn’t have much space for movement. You couldn’t hide or get away if they—

No.

No, they couldn’t get inside. You had to cling to that. The windows hadn’t broken. Plus you weren’t alone in this.

“I suppose that I can ask now that we won’t be leaving anytime soon,” Donna said after the fifth failed attempt. “What was your plan? Beyond getting everyone fucking killed.”

Jim and Randall met each other's eyes. “We wanted to spend the night in the RV. See where those things come from. That was my plan at least.”

“And you involved two other people?” Boyd asked with a hard undertone.

“That wasn’t my intention,” Jim continued.

“Randall believed the creatures weren’t real or something,” you interfered raspily. “Asked me some things. Then Donna came and he kidnapped us both.”

Donna scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “Hit me in the fucking head too.”

Boyd twisted in his seat, glaring at Randall. You almost snorted. The latter wasn’t making any friends in this small group. 

“You think this isn’t real?” He turned to the curly haired brunette. “Is that why you wanted to spend the night out here, Jim? See if those things are real? After all this time you’ve been here.” Disappointment colored his words. As if the mere idea of someone believing this was a fairytale was an atrocity. 

In a way it was. It would be like spitting on all those graves here. All the dead that had never been found…

All those who came long before any of you.

They probably wished it had only been a story.

“Fighting isn’t going to help,” you said, swallowing your own anger at Randall and even Jim for creating this situation. “It’s… just going to be one shitty night. Then we go back to town tomorrow.” 

You looked at Randall, barely able to read his expression even with your greater sight within the van’s darkness. But he gave a short nod. And you hoped that was enough.

“You’re right,” Boyd said, unbuckling his belt. “I’d say get some sleep, but you shouldn’t after a hit like that.” He moved to the back, checking you over first before moving on to the others. “Nothing major. That’s good.”

After that he went back to the front, taking off his jacket to partly cover the windows. “Can I get your jacket too, Jim?”

“Uh, yeah.” 

His jacket and yours joined the pretty pathetic cover job, but it was something. It wouldn't stop the creatures from looking inside. If you inched closer to the seats, you could stay mostly out of sight. Only if they got close would they see.

They likely knew you’d be here though. The second they saw people in here… 

You shouldn’t think about that. It wouldn't do you any good.

You curled your knees up, making yourself smaller as you leaned against the back of Boyd’s seat. A chill had crept inside the van, beginning to gnaw on your fingers. Even then, your body felt too warm, sweat tracing a cold path along your flushed skin, turning clothes sticky.

Thankfully your head had stopped swimming. The darkness was soothing to your eyes too. So you began focusing on breathing. Not the pain as your ribs expanded. Nor the pounding headache. Just the steady push and pull of your lungs. On the proof you were alive.

That’s how you spent the first minutes, perhaps hours of this horrible night. Ignoring the sparse, clipped conversations around you. 

The first screech shattered the fragile peace, locking your muscles. You kept your eyes screwed shut, still trying to keep your breath steady. But your heart raced faster despite your efforts. You pressed your nails into your thighs at the second scream. Closer than the first.

God, you took the Liu’s kindness for granted. How Tian-Chen didn't mind looking after all the extra people in her home. How readily Kenny gave you his bed. You wished you were there, under a warm blanket with Kenny as company. Kenny who was kind and brave and who would’ve stopped you from talking to those monsters at night. 

A soft rustle of fabric came from the front, making you slightly jump in place. 

“There’s nothing here,” Donna whispered, peering outside.

Boyd copied her actions. “Don’t see them here either.”

But you felt them. The softest of tugs, almost flirtatiously so. As if to coax you out of hiding. Whether figuratively or literally.

And horrible as it was, with the pain… It felt so nice. A gentle caress while your body ached everywhere.

“No, wait,” Donna said. “...I can see some.”

You forced your eyes open, accidentally meeting Randall’s. He looked far from relaxed, body stiff.

Jim stood up though. Walked over to lean over the front seats to gaze outside. “How many are there?”

“A few.”

You kept your attention locked on Randall beyond Jim’s legs, your frame beginning to shake. Your fear infected him too if the bob of his throat was a sign. Maybe your wounded back was what he needed to see to believe in monsters.

“The fuck? They stopped.”

“Stopped?” you asked Donna quietly.

“Yeah… from a distance,” Boyd answered.

“They’re not smiling either,” the woman said, a hint of confusion entering her voice.

And then… there was chaos.

You lurched forward, hands reaching for your head, body pitching sideways. There was screaming, screaming, screaming, your head splitting apart as something tried to tear into you—

And you realised only after hands clasped your shoulders that you were screaming. You were the source.

Yet no matter how the mouths around you moved, you didn’t hear a word through the static hum of beating wings. The only thing that cut through—

Was music. A slow, ominous melody played. 

Everything inside you recoiled. Snapped open to the link, reaching, clawing, desperate. Presences rushed to meet yours, ripping something out with ferocious fervor. Things that felt like thousands of maggots crawling under your skin, pulled out in quick succession.

You gagged at the visceral sensation, watery vision noting how the radio had flickered on. The others were panicking now—shouting, motioning to you, to the music.

Which meant it wasn’t in your head.

It was here. And it was real.

And it hated you.

Chapter Text

Somewhere between everywhere and nowhere, your mind blipped in and out. The pain had gone. No, not gone. Replaced by this floating sensation. Warmth, as if you were lying on a shore. Waves lapped up from your feet to tickle the back of your head, pulling at your hair. The sun shone down to kiss your bare skin, heating wet sand and water around you.

It was comfortable. The kind of warmth that made you sleepy. But sound occasionally crashed through like a sudden bout of thunder. Your brows furrowed.

Whenever your eyes forced themselves open, instead of a blue sky—

Darkness engulfed you. Flailing limbs and rapidly moving mouths you couldn't hear flashed before you. People would try to move you, urgently trying to get you on your feet inside the cramped metal van. You’d look over their shoulders. Between their bodies. At a shadow in the corner, lingering behind the others. Tall. Lanky.

No one but you saw it.

Then the waves came back. Coaxed you under with a mere tug. Your eyes would close, shouting falling to the background. The gentle heat whispered how good you were being. You just had to sit tight a little longer. Wait patiently.

Everything would be okay.

Then your face cracked to the side, eyes snapping open. Pain bloomed in your cheek, intense and sudden. The sun vaporised instantly, a snarl left in its wake. Stunned, you turned towards…

Donna. 

Who had slapped you.

“Glad to see you’re back,” she said, hair splayed haphazardly around her head. You blinked blearily at her, groggy as if you’d just woken up.

The pain sparked from your jaw to your pounding head. A bad taste sat in your mouth. Metallic and tangy.

Darting your tongue out, you realised why. Blood coated your lips. Rubbing your nose, your hand came back slick. Red with your own blood.

Your head pulsed harder. You felt like shit. Like your skin had been plucked clean from your bones.

Behind Donna, the men were scattered around the back of the van, Boyd closest to you. Everyone stood very still, fear clogging the cramped space. 

That was when the music registered. Twisting gears of a music box pushing the melody along. You felt it then. Something hovering just near your star. Foreign. Hostile. You pulled the star inward instinctively. Kept it closed.

The lights inside the van flickered once, an oppressive weight turning oxygen scarce, and a sense of deja vu hit you. One you had no time to linger on. 

Everyone was staring at you, varying degrees of contemplation turning friend and foe alike into strangers.

“What’s happening?" you asked, gut coiling. The floor was cold under your palms as you shifted, pangs of pain twinging through your side.

No one answered.

Donna looked at Boyd, something silently communicated between them. “We could make a break,” she said. “It’s a ten minute walk. Maybe fifteen.”

“You saw how many there are.”

The melody trudged forward mockingly. As if it delighting in its own slowness, savoring the fear it instilled.

You racked your brain through sharp bursts of agony. Because you recalled now. The dungeon that trapped Boyd. Bad things happening if the music stopped. Plus, the strange shadow from the bathroom had been here. And after the second time, it was no longer a hallucination nor a coincidence. Not in this place.

So then—

You had to go. That’s why they wanted to run.

“Where are we running to?” you asked.

“Back to town,” Jim said from beside you. Opposite where you’d seen the shadow. That corner was empty now.

You frowned. Town? With its locked houses, potentially unaware, sleeping people and…

“But town would be crawling with them,” you rushed out. “Isn’t the RV closer?”

“You’d have to climb to get inside,” he continued. “I don’t think I can manage that, let alone you.” That’s when you noticed how he held his side, pain tight on his face,

Boyd shot towards the front, peered out, then walked back. He rubbed his head, hair damp with sweat. “Alright, you three get out first.”

Donna’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”

“Didn’t you say those things lie?” Jim stated. “Why believe them now?”

You were starting to feel lost as the conversation continued.

The music wound to a slow end.

Everyone tensed. Waited for something to happen.

The lights began flickering wildly. Your breath stopped. For a second nothing happened.

Then something struck the vehicle. 

Your head shot towards the front. Another booming clap came from outside. From inside. Below. Above.

Bigger than fists. Greater than humanoid monsters.

Everyone jumped. Froze. Watched the van’s interior with wide, fearful eyes.

“What’s that?” you gasped out, scrambling to your feet. But your legs were numb, sharp pain lacing your side, dragging you down with a soundless cry. “Shit,” you hissed.

“Boyd?” A voice came from outside, muffled through the van’s wall. You knew that voice. “Do we have a deal?”

The nurse.

“Deal?” Blood drained from your face. That gut feeling came back. Boyd’s eyes betrayed him. Guilt warring with duty. “What deal?”

“All you need to know,” Boyd said, somehow relatively calm, “is that we're going to make a break for it. The others go first.” 

“Boyd,” Donna said, “you’re talking about sacrificing-”

“I know what I’m saying!” The words burst out of him. “Look, I have a plan. Alright? So, please. Go.”

She looked down. “Alright,” she whispered, moving to the door. “Let’s go, boys.” Randall and Jim followed, the latter more reluctantly.

You wanted to follow. Wanted to get out too. 

What deal had they made? What did you miss in the short time you were out—getting hurt by that worm thing, getting dragged under by the creatures.

You tried to lean on your left leg. Pain sparked like electricity up your hip. “Boyd… I can’t run,” you said numbly, the full scope of the situation not yet registering.

“We know,” he replied grimly, then he moved to your side and pulled you up, hauling you deeper into the back. Near the gate.

Randall inched closer to the side door, opposite Donna, hands hovering, coiled and ready for a sprint. Wild desire for survival screaming from his eyes as the light kept flickering.

Everyone breathed heavily, steeling themselves for the riskiest sprint of their lives. Boyd peered outside through the make-shift blinds, head swiveling. Your heart began to pound, worsening your headache. You blinked rapidly, trying to map out the fastest, safest route to the nearest house—with no idea how many creatures waited out there.

But you’d need help.

Boyd moved to the front again, swallowing audibly. “Alright! We have a deal. But I’ll stay here.”

For a good while, the creatures remained silent. Long enough to conclude what your gut had already warned—

You were being used as leverage.

Horror settled deep inside your chest. 

“Only if they take the talisman with them,” the nurse said.

He looked back, meeting everyone's eyes. Including yours. Whatever guilt and shame he carried had been hardened over by acceptance.

“Ready when you are,” Donna said stiffly, fingers clamping tight around the handle of the sliding door.

A loud bang came from below. Everyone plastered close to the walls.

“Fuck this,” Randall muttered, eying the floor. Then he continued louder, “fuck this shit.”

He reached for the door himself. Tried to pull. But Donna kept it firmly closed. “Not until Boyd gives the go-ahead-”

The swift shing of a blade cut through the air. 

The knife swung Donna’s way, pointing at her throat again. She barely flinched, glaring at him. Her hand clenched on the handle.

“Open the fucking door.”

Your heart plummeted to your shoes, palms pressing harder into the floor. As if to push yourself up. Your body refused to comply, trembling uselessly. 

How could you forget.

He still had that fucking knife. This time you couldn’t do shit to help. Not with your busted leg.

Boyd began shouting, reaching for his gun.

“Have it your way, asshole,“ Donna gritted out. Then she shoved the door open, cold, fresh air rushing inside. Randall’s arm faltered as he glanced out at whatever waited beyond.

Then she pushed Randall out. 

You gasped.

“Donna! Catch.” Boyd threw the talisman her way. She caught it, threw you one final glance with more guilt. More pity. She motioned to Jim, standing wide-eyed in the corner. “Move!” That startled him into action, the man following her out.

From outside, Randall pushed himself up. “You bitch!” he rasped. 

“Fucking run, you moron,” Donna yelled back. 

His head spun, taking in the monsters. He stumbled back. Ran.

Just before the door shut, you saw them.

Five of them waited near the edge of the road. Still as the dead. Your gaze jumped from one to the other in the seconds you got.

The worst possible combination.

The handbag lady. The bulky monster that found you in the cave. The nurse that carved your back. A cheerleader that you’d never spoken to before, couldn’t predict. 

At the front?

The cowboy. Hands loose at his sides, like he’d pounce the second you came within reach.

You caught a glimpse of him. The tightly pursed lips. His curled fingers.

A shiver shook your frame.

Now there was no talisman. Only flimsy metal and glass protected you. They had broken into the box to kill Frank. Torn into cars. The van wouldn’t hold.

None of them smiled, raking goosebumps down your arms. You used to believe their hollow smile was the most terrifying thing about them. This was worse. Way worse.

Their eyes locked onto you the instant you came in sight. Unreadable. Piercing.

Then the door shut.

You looked to Boyd, who watched the outside. “They’re not following the others. Good.”

“Boyd.” Your voice wavered. “What did you do?”

“What I had to.” He didn't look at you. “We’re going to give them a headstart. Then we go.”

“How many are there?”

He didn’t answer.

“How many?” you snapped.

“...Nine.”

Nine. 

There was no way in hell you were outrunning that many. They’d pin you, cut off escape routes, funnel you wherever they wanted. And that was when you weren’t hurt.

You glanced at the floor of the van as it began to shake, the trembling vibrating through your body. Fluttering came from underneath. You pressed harder into the wall, wrecking your brain for a plan.

For hope.

You tried to stand, using the wall to drag your body up, palms sticking to the cold surface.

“You said bad things would happen if the music stopped,” you rushed out.

“That’s why we’re leaving.”

He came to you, hand reaching to steady you. The van creaked like it was collapsing.

“Boyd,” the nurse sing-songed. “I think it’s time to come out now.”

The fluttering grew louder, gaining a deep, rhythmic hum. The beat of insectoid wings.

The sheriff drew his gun. 

“They’re not coming near the van. So we use that. All we need to do is run straight ahead.” His eyes were stern. “Get our own headstart.”

“Maybe,” you swallowed, “you should leave me-”

“No.” He cut you off. “That’s what they want. Get ready.”

He reached for the gate’s handle. Looked at you. And unlocked it, flinging it open. Chilly, sharp air pushed inside, making you squint as your eyes watered. Boyd grabbed your arm and pulled you out.

You couldn't contain a hiss, your ankle buckling the second your feet hit concrete.

It barely slowed him. He pushed you forward. “Go, go, go!”

The pain in your leg was nearly unbearable as your full weight shifted onto your bad side. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry. You instinctively looked ahead, down the stretch of road. The path to safety. Your vision tilted, the grey slab of concrete twisting in the distance, tears pricking your eyes.

Your lungs struggled. The cold air hit like a second slap. Hard enough that it got you to see how hopeless this way.

The casual click of shoes raised the hairs on your arms. 

Behind you, creatures peeled off from both sides of the van, giving chase without haste. Smiles tugged their mouths into masks of politeness. But beneath you saw the anger. The glee. 

An awful concoction that only promised misery.

They were so close. A little closer and you could reach out, brush them with stretched fingertips.

The hunger in their stare twisted your gut. Your mind conjured phantom pain. The sharpness of a blade splitting your back, those hands pinning you down as your world became liquid fire.

Unconsciously, you searched for red hair. A twisted smile.

Something tugged at your soul then. Not from them; from somewhere else entirely. Warmth crept over the coldness of your skin. 

It whispered to…

“Go!” Boyd repeated, pushing you a second time.

…leave.

That’s all it took. Animal instinct took over. Forced your legs to move faster than should be possible. With every slapping step, you felt something in your leg crunch, ligaments sliding incorrectly.

You marveled at it. How you could barely feel it.

Then came the shots. Loud pops in quick succession. You flinched with each one, daring to glance back.

Boyd walked backwards, gun sweeping between the monsters as they closed the distance without hurry.

“Oh, Boyd. You should’ve kept your promise,” the nurse said, tone too friendly as holes formed in her chest from the bullets. It promised pain.

“Motherfuckers,” he hissed, rushing after you. He grabbed your arm, kept you moving.

You were barely running when his steps faltered, his head snapping back, slowing you both. “Wait, that’s-”

“What’re you doing?” you asked breathlessly, eyes flitting to the creatures. Relentlessly closing in.

Boyd was fixed on something within the van. 

“Hey.” You shook him, fear mounting. Some creatures smiled wider. The sheriff kept staring.

“Hey!” You hit his arm. “Let’s go!”

He snapped out of it. Glanced at the creatures, confusion melting quickly. Then he backed off, spun, hauled you behind him.

You kept pushing. Ignoring the pain. Shoving aside soft tugging on the link, calls to come back and play. Forcing your legs to match Boyd’s pace. Focusing on not burdening him. His laboured breathing pushed you on. You’d make it. If only because the crash was your fault.

You’d help the only way you could. Your location was already compromised. Hiding was pointless. Taking a deep breath, you focussed on all the nearby creatures. The throbbing in your head worsened.

Then… you tugged. On the cowboy. The nurse. All the creatures near the van. Stretching further, you searched for others nearby, feeling the ones in the forest.

Without realising, your stride slowed.

“Kid-” Boyd’s voice came from somewhere distant, fingers tightening on your upper arm.

The creatures noticed. Of course they noticed. This time you wouldn’t allow fear to deter you. Not now. Not even in the face of their amusement.

Other creatures spawned on your mental map. Most were… ahead? Tracking them, your vision began overlapping. A glance towards the upper windows of Colony House. The empty swimming pool in town.

Something like a… warm, cramped bath?

It switched abruptly, like you’d been shoved out. Almost… playfully. You returned to trees, tracking a human deeper and deeper, claws eagerly awaiting when he’d tire.

Your heart lurched at that. Quickly you moved on, unwilling to watch someone die.

And for the first time, you beheld them. Truly saw them. They were nothing like your star. There was no shine. No light. They were like tangled balls of dry roots. Dead, sturdy spines reaching to entwine each other. And you. Roots twisted like a miasma around your presence. When you pushed, light shot from the star. Those flares accidentally grasped rather than shoved away. They met you like a wave, surging to swallow you back under—

Your eyes snapped open, breath tearing out of your lungs.

“We need to shake them,” you whispered. “They know you lied. All of them.” Meaning they chased the others too. Because Boyd broke the deal.

The reminder stung. Made you hope your assumptions were wrong.

“How do we do that?”

Your throat tightened, jaw clicking—

Then you stumbled, gasping. The roots snapped around you, presences giving you a psychic trip-up.

Successfully.

Your leg screamed as it twisted, knee giving out. The pavement rushed up to crack against your knees. Sharp, blinding pain shot all the way to your toes, stretching them. A cry ripped out of you. Your fingers dug into Boyd’s arm, dragging him down with you. Blood pulsed in your head, white spotting your vision.

Boyd tried to pull you upright. You couldn't. Your legs wouldn’t move, pain quaking through them.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Boyd?”

“Shut up,” he grunted, arms lacing underneath your armpits. He began dragging you. Your eyes clenched shut as your leg jostled, a hot sensation searing along your shin. You choked on your breath.

“It’s not too late,” the nurse said.

And being dragged backwards, you could see her and the other creatures still following leisurely. Like they were stretching this. Savouring it. 

“You can still choose.”

She was looking at you despite talking to Boyd. It was you who had to make a choice. The man hauling you backwards wouldn't, you knew. Couldn't fathom saving his own skin.

“I said shut up!” Desperation bled into the threat. Cold concrete scraped beneath you, his hands clinging stubbornly to you. Futilely so.

You met their eyes. All nine of them boring into you. So many waiting for an answer. Perhaps hoping for an excuse to tear Boyd apart. They barely put effort into catching up. Because they knew… 

You had lost.

They held back, but for how long?

And once they got serious…

Boyd would die.

“W-what did he promise?” you asked, gaze springing from one to the other, unable to hold one too long. Until it snagged on the cowboy’s.

“Kid, please-”

“What was the deal?”

The cowboy’s face was unmoving. His smile static and small and wrong. You wanted to plead with him—this creature you felt inexplicitly drawn to. Not to replace Smiley. Just…

He didn’t answer.

The nurse did. Kept being their collective voice this time.

“We asked for you,” she cooed, smile stretching wide enough to show teeth. “In exchange, we wouldn’t follow poor Boyd or the others.”

Your face blanked. Mind growing quiet. 

It had been expected. Your gut had cried it. Your brain had concluded it. 

And yet… Your heart broke. Cracked clean through, pieces crumbling off.

Because they had agreed, no matter how reluctantly. They agreed. And then Boyd tried to backtrack. Keep you and keep everyone else.

He had still agreed. Used you as a tool. A gamble.

His fingers tightened on you. “We can still-”

“No, Boyd.” Your voice wavered. “I can’t walk.”

Craning your head back, you met his eyes. Saw his desperation. The unwillingness to leave someone behind. You regretted not reconciling sooner. Regretted holding on to your earlier grudge. Maybe things would’ve been different now.

You would have brought the bunny to him. Could have avoided this whole mess.

“Go,” you whispered. “Ellis can’t lose his dad.”

At his son’s name, his eyes closed. His head lowered. Then he slowly released you, carefully setting you down. When you were fully on the ground, the pavement cold and hard beneath you, his grip finally loosening…

It became too real.

The piercing stares. The creatures concealed anger, the shape of it, the reason, impossible to understand. You didn’t want to stay here.

You wanted to turn. Grab his arms. Demand he take you with him, impossible as it was.

But that would be his death.

The creatures had stopped about two feet away. Watching this all unfold like it was nothing but entertainment.

Your teeth clenched.

Boyd squeezed your shoulders. “I better see you again.” Then he let go. Backed away slowly.

“Don’t worry.” The nurse’s face twisted into something like sympathy. “We take care of our own.” 

“You-”

“Boyd, go!” Your throat ached around the cry.

“I’ll come back for you,” he promised. Another promise he wouldn’t be able to keep.

Then he left. Slowly at first. Then he jogged, and then he was gone.

And you were alone. 

With them. 

You kept your gaze down, focused on breathing. Thoughts raced, each a desperate attempt to fix this. You could still try to run. Flee into the forest, find a place to hide. You humored even the idea of crawling. Anything to avoid what was to come.

But while you reached and reached for something…

Their feet already drew near. Shoes clicking quietly as bodies closed in around you. They brushed against your presence, gently, the way they always did when they wanted something. Purring. Warm. Thrilled.

It unsettled you far more than snarling, angry maws would.

Your nails bent as you pressed them into the concrete.

The fury was still there. Buried, but there.

“Poor thing,” the nurse said, kneeling before you. Uncaring that her white dress pooled on the dirty road. You flinched as her hand reached out, stroking over your wounded leg. “You must’ve broken this one.”

A second set of knees met the ground behind you, fabric shifting. The bulky one’s arms came around you—

You tried to pull away, but his arms locked over your chest, pinning yours to your sides. He drew you against his front, limbs like steel caging you.

“We need to set it.” 

Only then did you look down at your leg. And you blinked, a haze settling in. Distantly, like you were floating, you studied it. Was that your leg? Twisted at an odd angle. A lump visible through your pants. You flexed your toes, immediately flinching when ligaments burned.

The nurse’s hand transformed, dark veins threading under her skin, nails lengthening into sharp points. You braced yourself, muscles tensing as they graced your leg.

Then she tore through the fabric of your pants. Ugly, bruised skin revealed itself as she parted the torn fabric further. Angry and swollen. 

Without preamble, she took hold of your leg. The milkman gripped the other, smiling that seemingly gentle grin.

His eyes gleamed darkly when they landed on the wound however.

Your heart hammered so hard, you swore your chest would cave. Without meaning to, you searched the faces around you, passing over them in a blur, looking for—

Blue eyes. Dilated pupils. The lines of age on his face. His smile was gone, jaw tight. Displeasure radiated off him, almost visible in the air between you.

Your fingers twitched, desperate for something you dare not name. When you stretched toward the bond, their presence remained just out of reach.

And like lightning, it struck you. Those words, passed silently by the blonde girl just hours ago.

These beings were not capable of mercy.

Because you knew now that they could drag you under. Pull you somewhere warm and painless.

But they didn’t. Not this time.

Your mouth went dry.

Your eyes froze on the cowboy. Searching, pleading for even a scrap of empathy. And just before pressure wound around your leg, his mind brushed against yours.

And all you got was…

Consequence. For your recklessness. For failing to care for yourself.

They wouldn’t allow you to find comfort in that warmth. Not while you—

The nurse set the bone. 

White swallowed your vision. Air punched out of your lungs as hot, bright pain drove through your leg and seared up your side. The scream that tore from your lungs hid the sickening crack.

You jerked against the hold on your body, mind playing a different scenario, soaring the agony, terror, agony, terror higher. You arms flexed against the stronger ones around you. Legs kicked in a futile attempt to dislodge their hands. Whole body fighting without conscious input. But they kept you steady. Had dealt with fighting humans before.

And when your vision returned, when breath crept back in your lungs, only then did they reach back.

Pleased. Vindicated. 

Worst of all. 

Proud. Because you had endured.

Sweat beaded on your forehead. Your leg throbbed in time with your pulse. Your head tipped back against the bulky creature’s shoulder, eyes finding the sky beyond the ring of faces. Star scattered over the dark canvas in a smattering of lights, indifferent to it all.

Envy stabbed through your chest. Stars were so far away from it all. They didn’t have to face pain. Face consequences they never knew existed as the strong dictated the rules, without ever explaining them.

Trial and error. That was the only constant in this hell. 

You wished they’d treat you like other people. Because this…

How were you ever supposed to live like this? 

Hunted down. Treated like an uncooperative vending machine, kicked until it dispensed what was demanded from it. Rewarded with satisfied buyers only when it finally complied.

You swallowed down a wail aimed at those long dead stars. Their lights still twinkling despite the source having burned out a long time ago.

The hands on you shifted. Cradled you. They carefully prodded at your presence. Insistent, but without the earlier force. And you wanted to hide. Crawl away from those roots trying to pull you under warm waves.

Because what would happen if you gave in? Would you wake up there, in the caves? In that nest?

“It will be easier this way,” the nurse said softly, fingers stroking your cheek. The bulky one kept you upright, your own strength long gone. The milkman sat on his hunches beside you, his hand on your leg still. Their warmth scalded your feverish skin. The chest at your back never rose with breath. A reminder of what they were.

You wanted out. Break free from their suffocating touch. Flee from eyes that saw too much. Too deep.

A thumb traced the edge of your eyesocket, the tip passing your eye too closely. You jerked back only to press firmer into the bulky monster's front.

Fresh terror flooded inside you.

Would they hurt you again if you refused? But they had punished you for, for not caring for yourself. Getting hurt.

So— 

“....I need to see Kristi.” The words slurred, your tongue thick and slow. It sounded childish even to you.

Amusement rolled through them. 

Your cheeks warmed as their grins grew. You wondered if this was how dogs felt after performing a trick for food. Their owners cooing, touching without permission.

You looked to the cowboy again, barely daring to meet his eyes. He was one of few still not smiling, and it made your heart lurch painfully. His jaw had eased from the earlier tension, but there was something in his gaze that put you on edge.

“All she can offer, we can too.”

Your attention snapped back to the nurse.

“And you,” she paused, eyes crinkling at the corners, “belong in the dark with us.”

They moved. Closed in. More hands reaching to take hold of you. You tried to move away. Until—

Deliberate footsteps cut through. One pair, unhurried and lazy, stilling the others’ approach. The cowboy moved forward, passing the rest without looking at them. There was a sense of authority to him you never noticed before. The other creatures deferred to him without complaint.

They parted, straightening and backing away to give him room. Only the bulky one remained, though even he loosened his hold. 

Your throat tightened with every step. His gaze fixed on you, never faltering. And that sole focus constricted your voice.

He lowered himself on one knee beside you, head tilting as he studied you from beneath the brim of his hat. His gaze moved carefully over your face. 

“She can’t help you,” he said, low and unhurried. “We’re all you’ve got.”

Your blood turned to ice. Why wouldn’t she be able to help? 

“What do you mean?”

Was she…?

"Boyd set something free. It’s going to change some things.” An unreadable emotion glinted in his eyes. “You remember the worms? They’ve changed. Your friend’s a little busy right now dealing with what Boyd set loose.”

He tipped your chin up, making sure you focused on him. “The same thing that already tried to kill you.” 

The hairs on your neck rose. The worms forcing their way under your skin, digging tunnels to your brain. Excruciating pain stabbing through your head. The nosebleed. 

It had tried to kill you. For being connected to them? It was the only reason you could come up with.

But the others had no way to protect themselves. Not if it could attack everyone like that.

But then would that mean…

“You…” The question felt forbidden to ask. “You protected me?”

He smiled.

And you were plunged in icy water. 

Because you knew that expression. The lopsided curve, the lines carving on his cheeks. You had seen it before. Knew what it meant.

You had walked into a trap. 

He released your chin, taking his warmth with him. “Do you want us to keep doing so?”

As if one cue, they all receded. Their roots retracted from your star, and with every branch that left, that other presence claimed emptied space. Hovering. Eager. But cautious, for now. It was everywhere. It hung in the atmosphere itself. A vile, coalescing weight. The taste in your mouth soured, creeping down to your gut. 

Your fingers latched onto the cowboy’s sleeve. An instinctive action, fuelled by fear. One you couldn't care to feel humiliated by. Not now. Not when the chittering began, insectoid wings buzzing at the edge of your mind. That singular hatred delved deeper. Desire to hurt, maim, kill closing around you like a thousand mandibles.

Pressure built in your head, rapid, merciless, ready to burst outward.

Your fingers clamped around his forearm. Breath turning shallow. 

And with the next brush of his mind, you cracked. Dropped your guard entirely.

And slowly, he encompassed you. The other creatures joined, covering your fear with their sadistic glee. That you were obeying thrilled them, you didn’t need the link to see that.

You pulled harder, focusing on the cowboy. Not the others. His slight smirk. His glittering eyes. 

That oppressive cloud thinned, and you could breathe easier. In fact, your breath slowed. Your heart came down from its frantic pace. Darkness gathered behind your eyes, pressing them shut.

Your body sloughed, hands cradling it.

“Sleep tight, sweetheart.” The cowboy’s low voice soothed you further, closer than before. “We got you.”

And then the waves pulled you under, spilling over the shore in long, rhythmic motions.

The waves had been dark this time. More subdued. It left no room for thoughts. Only stillness. Calm.

That’s why when your mind surfaced, you didn’t want to wake. You allowed yourself to skirt on the edges of consciousness, never fully tipping back into yourself.

Because then you’d have to face some things.

Like the ache in your leg. The pulse in your head, shooting down your sore neck. Soft bedding cradling your body, propping your leg up, and keeping your neck stable.

Worse… You’d have to see the presence nearby. Patiently waiting for you to acknowledge reality.

You could only run and hide for so long, after all.

But God, you wished it could be longer.

Slowly, the waves released you. Ebbing away until they barely grazed you. Not fully gone, but letting you feel its absence. It left you cold. Aware of the quiet around you. Of the cool, damp air and earthy scent. There was no denying your current location.

The caves.

And this time… you couldn't walk. Let alone crawl through the small entrance into the forest. From there the journey would only grow worse.

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, taking in the grey stone above. You flexed your fingers under the blanket, its weight heavy on your chest. Next, you tried to wriggle your toes, winching as pain flared in your leg. You found your leg was more or less immobilized. 

You ignored the creature besides you. Still waiting quietly. 

Instead you looked down at yourself. Your leg was kept in place with a wooden splint, fabric wrapped tight around it. It sat propped on bundled blankets.

You swallowed nervously, feeling eyes burn into the side of your head. From the corner of your vision, you could see how still he sat, his hat resting upside down on the floor beside him. He didn’t speak. Didn’t smile. The cowboy simply observed you.

Words formed and dissolved on your tongue. It was harder to speak now that he could touch you. No human should be talking to them at all. Not when these beings should be tearing you to pieces the second you were in reach.

You cleared your throat in vain hope it would steady your nerves. He tilted his head.

“I didn’t realise you’d know how to treat wounds.”

He was quiet for a moment. “We’ve had to learn.”

“Blondie did say you’ve done this before.”

To that, you got no answer like usual. Only an amused quirk of his lips. “You’re quite eager to get yourself killed,” he said lightly, understating how loaded the ‘observation’ was.

Normally, from behind the safety of a window, you’d have felt angry. Snipped at him. But recalling that stare as the nurse set your bone.

You didn’t want to risk it.

“I was… panicking.”

“Hm.”

He was curt. More so than usual. It did nothing to help your nerves. You were sure he was still… displeased, and you didn't know what that meant for you. You had never truly seen them angry. Only irritated or peeved.

You took to looking around as much as you could. The same crevice they brought you to before. Empty except for the two of you. But your vision caught on some oddities. 

A chest against the wall. Closed and relatively large. The kind meant to hold clothes. Beside it stood a small dresser with a mirror, little knick knacks arranged carefully around the glass. On the opposite wall was a table with chairs. Furnished as though a family of four would sit to eat there. And in the corner closest to the entrance sat a wooden basin. For washing, tools nearby it meant for cleaning oneself. The curved wall offering a semblance of privacy for anyone actually bathing there.

Your heart plummeted.

The crevice had been furnished. Not just an open space with piled beddings to create a make-shift bed, but a living space. Built in anticipation of filling it. With you.

“You like it?” the cowboy asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

Sweat prickled on your skin. But your mouth remained firmly shut.

They had been preparing… Truly preparing for when they would catch you again.

For fuck’s sake, there was even a bear plushy. Beside the dresser, it sat on a small wicker chair. With a little red and green bow neatly tied around its neck and—

Air left your lungs.

You needed to get out. Not just from this cave. From this place entirely. Whatever they wanted from you couldn't be good. No matter how ‘gentle’ they’d been.

No. A part inside you screamed. Begged to leave. Even as another relented, too tired to fight them. They never tired. Never stopped. How long until…

You gulped.

“I take it you need some time,” he said dryly. “You’ll have plenty of that now.”

You wanted to scoff, desiring to snarl back, swear you’d get out again.  But terror kept your mouth shut.

“So… what now?” you asked tentatively instead.

“You rest up after your… poor judgement.”

You almost flinched, but caught yourself in time. Partly to show him nothing he could use against you. But also to prevent hurting your body any further. “Are you that pissed I didn’t wear my seatbelt?”

His gaze sharpened. “You didn’t wear your seatbelt,” he repeated slowly. Like he needed time to process that. 

And you realised then. 

They hadn’t known.

And now his lips pressed together again. The grip on his knees tightened.

“Well—, that’s just… a figure of speech?”

He looked wholly unimpressed. Stared you down for an uncomfortably long moment. Then he shook his head, a strangely human motion, diffusing some tension. “You have the, what did you say again?” he said, his tone conveying he remembered perfectly. “The survival instinct of a piece of lettuce.”

Offence flickered through you despite everything. At the words, and at the ridiculous words thrown back in your face. 

“You picked me.” 

Deal with it, you wanted to add. But he still looked displeased enough that you wouldn't try your luck.

His gaze moved over your face. Unblinking. Hard. Then, just barely, softening.

The creature nodded, dead serious. “That we did. And you’ll find out why sooner than later.” 

Your eyes widened at that. Whatever that meant… you hoped it wouldn't be bad. Though, you weren’t sure how much worse things could get.

Then he rose gracefully, limbs raising without a single sign of strain, grabbing his hat from the floor. He dusted it off, placing it on his head. His eyes swept over you one last time, critically taking in your bedding, your splint. “I’ll be close-by.”

Then the cowboy turned and left towards the entrance. He paused at the threshold, turning back. Found your wide eyes. 

“Oh, and sweetheart?” 

A smirk split his face open. 

“I don’t mind chasing.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. You watched him go. His shape swallowed within the distant dark, footsteps echoing down the cavern before fading into nothing.

In the silence that followed, everything came rushing in. Randall, who was likely dead. The crash. The attack on your mind. The chase, fall and bone getting snapped back in place. All until you woke up here. 

Shifting, you tried to lay in a more bearable position, leg growing prickly with numbness from the elevated placement. You gathered the thick blankets closer. They smelled old. Worn. A faint trace of iron sticking to them that you quickly chose not to think about.

You tried to find the positive. Something to hold onto. Even as you felt like Princess fucking Peach. This was the third kidnapping in a ridiculously short amount of time. One was by Randall, but it counted.

Even as you made the comparison… It fell flat. Your lips remained in a thin line. There was nothing flowery about this situation. No genuine hope of escape. Not from this place.

Maybe you should’ve accepted it sooner. 

That this time around, you lost.

And for the first time, staring up at unfeeling stone, you wondered how many more times you’d lose before you’d truly give in.

Chapter Text

You weren’t sure how long you lay there before the trembling finally receded. The grey stone felt like it was pressing in while you struggled to keep your breathing even.

The blanket served as a weak barrier between the cave and you. Your soft flesh and hungry talons. You shifted, pain immediately lacing up your side. Never before had you felt this vulnerable. Not even when they carved the link into you. Because that had been so sudden. So unexpected. There had been no way to prepare.

But this time you’d had days to anticipate. Days of fear and confusion over this link and the subsequent changes. The improved sight. The way things tasted slightly off. The scent of decay…

You licked your lips. Dry from hours without water.

Another issue you didn’t yet dare look in the eye. Because when you glanced around, there was no food- or water source whatsoever.

And the purring… Those roots of theirs shook in content. Satisfied with this new arrangement.

They made it no secret they wanted you close. Even though their excitement had sparked over to you after you successfully fled that first time. As if you had merely prolonged the fun. Made their eventual victory all the sweeter.

An acrid sensation twisted inside your stomach.

Gazing around the cavern, you couldn't deny this strange sense of belonging that had no business existing. So it had to come from them. Their slow entanglement of roots and branches. Rot and dryness. Amongst them a twisting roll of lingering satisfaction.

It hummed through the web. Like the mere idea of you waiting all wounded and vulnerable for them was some form of pure perfection. As if this was simply how things should be.

It only made you want to run faster.

Swallowing, you glanced down at your bare leg, poking out from beneath the blanket. Not even shoes or socks left to protect against the chill. They had changed your clothes. Replaced them with loose, comfortable pajamas you recognised all too well.

Your pajamas. The ones you’d taken with you on your would be trip. All this time you had believed someone selfishly took them after the massacre. Hoarded them without telling. 

And you’d been right. Just not in the way you had imagined.

You also hadn't failed to notice how clean you were. No blood crusted on your face anymore. Old sweat had been washed from your body, the scent replaced by a soft, flowery one. Lavender.

Your attention shot to the basin. A towel hanging over a wooden rack, side by side with a wet washing cloth. Wet spots sat in the faded green towel.

A shiver crawled along the length of your spine. Invasive as it dug deep under your bones to rattle along your ribcage.

They had seen you naked. Touched you.

With difficulty born from either pain or fear, you allowed the blanket to slope off. And then you slipped your fingers underneath your waistband, lifting it up and—

The color of your underwear was different. You let the elastic snap back, quickly bundling the blanket in your arm again. Huddling beneath.

Even your most intimate parts had been seen. Had been—

You cut that thought off. Because then you’d have to think about which creature. And you just couldn’t. Not now.

You glanced around, hoping to find some form of distraction.

Not that the cavern brought distractions that kept you from spiralling further. Not when it was transformed into a living space. Studying the chest and dresser, you could only guess what sat inside. It might be some more clothes. Other things stolen from Colony House after the massacre.

Part of you wanted to crawl over and see. If only to confirm the dread creeping low in your stomach.

Already you spotted other items belonging to you. What you had believed were random knick knacks, were anything but. Your pack of cards, propped against the mirror in such a way you could see the doodle of a dog on it. A memento of a girl from Colony House. She had been kind in a quiet way. Willing to lend a shoulder if you ever needed one. She never made it out of the mansion.

The cards had probably been picked by Smiley. For the games that could be played and for the doodle.

But as your study continued… your fear knotted tighter and tighter. Even your fucking toothbrush had been taken. The cup you held it in sat on the other side of the mirror. Toothpaste stood near it, its tube compressed. A fresh one behind the first.

Toothpaste was a precious resource out here. That they understood that was...

You inhaled slowly. 

They were actually serious. Weren’t they? They’d keep you here. Keep you and… what then?

The tremble returned, the blankets suddenly too tight around you.

You planted your hands into the bedding, trying to push yourself up. Your neck twinged with the motion, shoulders straining as you got onto your elbows. Sweat beaded on your skin as your body protested, whispering loudly to sit still.

Then you tried to lift your leg.

But it was like all strength had been zapped from your body. Your leg shook, barely coming off the bundled blankets. Nerves searing you into compliance as warning pain stabbed in your shin. It dropped back down. Breaths puffed from your chest.

You swallowed, shooting a glance to the entrance. Brain conjuring a leaping creature. Its fingers eagerly digging into skin to keep you shackled in place as you disobeyed, wrapping tenderly around a broken bone before—

You took a slow breath. Peering around the cave. Just for a fresh distraction. To see what else they took. What other insanity hid in these stolen items.

There was a set of candles, unlit, that you vaguely recognised from Colony House’s living room. A red lighter beside them. For what? Warmth? Comfort?

It was no secret that they took stuff from their victims. Jewelry, clothes, kitchenware. And apparently even whole pieces of furniture. You had wondered on occasion what they did with everything they took.

Playing house hadn’t been one of your guesses. Especially not after what transpired mere hours ago. 

Your gaze drifted towards the table. Four blue plates, surrounded by cutlery and plastic cups. A doily sat in the middle of it all, holding a small slab of wood. Smooth at the top. Holes had been carved in the wood, cradling some of those round candles from Colony House.

It was… homely in a way. Or an attempt at it. A cave was far from what you’d consider cozy. One invested with monsters even less so.

Not that they were too close right now. Only one lingered. And he made sure you knew he was around. That leash sat close to your star. Not constricting in any way, but very much present.

It was the only thing stopping you from tipping over the edge of sanity and crawling away. Your leg be damned.

He’d easily catch you. You hadn’t even attempted to try and block them out either. Not after the ordeal with those worms.

And… this time you wouldn’t expect any more patience. There was a sense of displeasure ringing alongside the deep satisfaction. Like a badly tuned instrument in an orchestra perfectly in sync. You couldn’t tell where exactly it came from. Just that it poisoned the link. Gave the impression of a shark lurking in dark waters. Unseen in its danger.

But no matter how busy things were in the link, in the cave… quiet seeped in your head like rot. It slowly ate at your fear, splotches of anger ripping through.

Your hands balled together.

This whole time you’d been careful. You kept them at bay. And then one, delusional guy had to–

Your eyes fell to the stains on the blanket. Splatters. Dulled through careful washing, but still brownish red.

Still blood.

And just like that, your fists slackened. The rush of anger flushed from your system. Draining you of energy as the rot latched on hungrily. Your arms shook trying to hold yourself up. 

Randall had to be dead. Reaped what he sowed. And in the end… no one deserved that. But maybe, just maybe the creatures had honored their promise after Boyd left.

You’d cling to that idea. That Randall may have been spared. If only to keep a semblance of sanity. 

You finally lowered yourself back down, settling into the numbness leaking from heart to veins. Prickles biting at your limbs from being propped up. From sitting in one position.

Was this it? Was this where your life had led all along? The fabric crumbled beneath your hands, fingers anchoring themselves into the soft cotton.

Of course, that’s when your stomach decided to rumble. A low groan came from your belly. As if it tentatively announced you weren’t dead and needed sustenance. With another cursive glance, you truly saw nothing to eat. Which meant…

You turned towards the link again. The quiet hum in the back of your mind. The thrum threading through the branches.

Then the branches rolled, perking up when you looked too close unintentionally—

You leaped back, slamming back into your body. Pulse stuttering all but for a moment. The tremble that you thought moved on returned.

They didn't follow, mercifully. Allowed you this one moment of peace.

These were the beings you were reliant on now. Creatures that tortured people to death. For fun. The fabric clenched in your grasp felt wrong. Too soft. Too warm. Wrong when everything here should be cold and dead—

Like you. The greatest oddity in this cave.

The organs in your gut—churning and complaining—shouldn’t even be there. They should’ve been torn out, eaten or taken or whatever it was they did with them—

“Enjoying yourself?”

A gasp tore from you, body shooting up instinctively. Freezing halfway when pain crackled up your side.

You searched the crevice for the owner of the voice. But it couldn’t be real. That voice—

Your eyes landed on a figure. Tall. Lanky.

—should be dead too.

“Bryce?”

It couldn’t be him. His tanned, freckled skin had been torn to shreds in front of you. That green camo shirt ripped open by claws.

The lopsided smile was achingly familiar. “Been some time.”

You stared at him. At his long, blond hair. The crossed arms as he leaned against the wall. Everything about him was impossible. And yet he blended seamlessly with his surroundings. The shadows embraced him like he was a solid being. The gound carried him like it would anyone else. He wasn’t ghostly in any way.

He appeared so painstakingly real, your heart clenched. The only thing missing was the thick, leather bracelet. The only thing you had left of him, and currently stuffed in your backpack at the Liu’s house.

“Holy shit,” you whispered. “I fucking lost it.”

He dropped his head, shaking it with an amused grin. “Nah, you haven’t.”

“I’m not agreeing with a hallucination. It must be something in this fucking cave,” you muttered, eying floating dust particles.

“You aren’t fully wrong on that. It was pretty hard to reach you. Those shitheads kept me out.” He began roaming the cave, taking in the… decorations. Bryce lingered at the dresser, studying the packaged cards. “Now they don’t need to anymore.”

You snorted, easing down again. “They kept the hallucinations out.” The words came slowly, wrapped in disbelief. 

“Yup. Kinda. But now they got you anyway.”

“So what?”

“Now you're at a crossroad. You took a wrong turn before, and now you're at the next crossing. All you need to do is choose which way you go.”

You watched him as he took in the teddy bear. The raise of his brows hurt in a way that lay deeper than skin. How many times had he made that exact face? Whenever Dale said something stupid and Bryce wanted to convey his silent opinion. Or when you’d been holed up inside your room too long and he came looking.

“We’ll, that’s great and all, but my leg’s fucked.”

Bryce turned back, a small smile growing on. “You’re thinking too small.”

You rolled your eyes at the well known reprimand, gaze drifting to the furnished table. “Is this more of your weird ass advice?” You looked back at him. ”You know I don’t appreciate—”

You stopped. Looked around. But he was gone. Not even a trace left. A huff rested on your tongue, stifled only by the disappointed throb settling somewhere deep. Even as a ghost or hallucination, he was dramatic. Your lips wanted to twitch upwards. Restlessness kept them still.

The commotion after Sara killed her brother… The shock and sorrow and the specific fear of knowing a fellow prisoner of this place had done it.

Sara… 

She had believed voices in her head. Was this how it started for her? Cryptic words that would slowly twist into instructions to kill a child?

You stared at where Bryce last stood. You’d let it rest for now. There were other more pressing things.

You swallowed what little saliva left, a dull ache forming behind your eyes. It was likely dehydration.

A glass before you left for the bunnies. That must’ve been the last water you drank.

There was nothing to drink here. Nothing to eat. You had checked each corner thoroughly. And even if the basin potentially held water—questionable as it was—you couldn’t reach it.

So if you wanted something—anything at all…

You needed to call.

Your cheeks burned. Those fuckers had left you alone, unable to even stand on your own. And now you’d have to ask them for help. Humiliation tasted like ash, draining every last bit of the moisture in your mouth.

Worse was who would likely respond considering his proximity.

The cowboy had always been strange. Even amongst the creatures and their relentless smiling facades. The way he sauntered around was almost comedic, thumbs hooked in his belt, one leg swaying ahead of the other. Then there was the hat tipping, the way he’d removed it in your presence at times, his usage of petnames…

But the ridiculous mannerisms made what hid underneath all the worse.

A merciless monster.

As if on que, pain in your leg flared, burning along your shin. A consequence of your actions. Their satisfaction—whether sadistic or cold—ran deep. You could only guess as to why. Whether it was the pain itself or the fact they got you.

Your lips pressed together. All because no one could just behave normally for once and mind their own fucking business. Randall had acted like an idiot who chewed off too much. Boyd had to—once again—involve himself.

If people just stopped being so messy, the faded splatters on these blankets may have never existed.

Your stomach growled again, painfully squeezing in on itself.

You wondered if the creatures would wait until you cracked. Until you asked for help. You shifted your leg—just a little, enough to test the splint. Even that left a sharp sting behind. But if you wanted to recover, you needed to eat. And if you wanted to eat—

They would have to help you.

A shiver rolled through you.

Purely by instinct, you searched. Reached. For Smiley. A dead end that carved a hollowness in your chest where there should’ve been giddiness.

If he had been around still—would he have been the one that sat at your side as you woke? A snarky or blunt remark ready on his lips?

The one who answered instead—

Was the cowboy.

But… 

Your brows knitted tighter together. That dissonance in the link grew shriller for all but a second. An overlapping creak of branches pulling opposite ways.

But just as quickly as it came—it vanished. Faint, dry amusement left in its place. 

The cowboy was closing in. Prodding lazily at your star, drawing a deep, bone rattling shiver from somewhere you couldn’t locate. No window. No wall. No door between you. Only flesh and bone and distance that slowly decayed with each of those swaying steps of his.

Air felt thin in your lungs, your heart a thunderclap against your ribs.

The weakness didn’t make any of them circle. It was like ‘Bryce’ said. There was no need anymore. And your reflexive flinch was rewarded with the cowboy’s humor fading. Something else replaced it. A surge that had cold fingers trace along your spine.

An alien hunger. Lacing through with a desire you didn't dare give a name.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pressing your thighs together.

Your eyes reflexively sprang from one shadowed corner to the next. Searching for a place to cram your body inside as the creature neared. Under the table. Inside the tub. Beside the entrance where you might slip out behind him.

Nails found your arms as fingers shook. Your leg kept you shackled. The splint working as a cuff that bound you to the nest. Pliant for anything they wanted to do to you.

You didn’t know where to look. At the darkness staring back from far within the tunnel, waiting to reveal that dreaded figure. At the floor, the walls, the ceiling pressing down. At objects that revealed their plan to catch and keep you specifically.

The first, distant scuff echoed down the tunnels. 

A whimper wanted to scrape free from your body, teeth snapping closed around it. You scrambled up on your elbows again, reflexive, brain screaming to keep the threat in sight.

God. You were so pathetic. Unable to do anything, except wait and hope and pray. You almost barked out a hysterical laugh. Nothing had changed since that last time you got stuck here, shivering in that cramped crevice.

Nothing.

You hadn’t learned anything. Hadn’t even tried to ask for help. Not even with your insane ideas to burn the wounds. Your attention snapped to the lighter. The candles.

Too small to properly fuck up your back. Too purposefully placed, signifying that it wouldn't work anyway.

And now—

Steps as quiet as falling snow landed on the cave floor.

You should have gone to Kristi more often. Just to talk. Should have listened—not to Boyd. To her. To Kenny. Should’ve let Kenny know so much sooner.

—you were alone.

His form was shaped by the shadows themselves, as if stitched from darkness. His small smile was genuine, shadows peeling back from his pale skin as they released him. Wide eyes had already found yours from beneath his brim. Drinking in the sight. The terror. The scent of fear.

He sauntered through the tunnel’s mouth, cool shades tainting his skin in pale blue.

It was surreal, how much terror someone dressed as a cowboy could inspire. Your stomach clenched as he stopped just past the entrance. Watching quietly. 

Still and focussed. Hungry in a way that had nothing to do with food.

His fingers curled.

Only then did your attention drop. To a bag in his right hand. A shopping bag.

As if he didn’t already look ridiculous enough.

The creature tilted his head. “Didn’t eat in a while, did you?” His tone was low. Conversational. As if you weren’t completely at their mercy.

Your stomach grumbled in answer.

He took another step inside. “We aren’t going to let you starve, sweetheart," he said, as soft as a dove’s feather. Brutally plucked to drag lightly across your skin. 

“What did you g-get?” Your stomach lurched, already dreading the games. Always sadistic and cruel. They always wanted something in exchange. Or maybe they’d feed you grotesque food. Unbidden, the bunny sprang from the chaos in your mind.

But your mouth didn’t water this time.

His face remained unmoving. His body held at the threshold. Then, like an invisible barrier broke, he stepped forward. Slowly paving a path to your side, each inch consumed slowly. You could only watch as he neared, muscles pulling taut.

“Something light.” He crouched down at the edge of the bedding. Reached inside the bag, lifting a can out. The label had depictions you knew would be colorful in actual light. 

Fruit.

“Are those… peaches?”

Had they taken those from Colony House too?

He smirked, but kept quiet. Didn’t even hurry as he set the can aside, reaching for the next item. 

They had taken Victor’s peaches. You barely stopped yourself from shaking your head, brows raised.

A bottle of water came next, fished from the dark cotton bag. Sealed and filled with clear water. He held it out to you. Wariness settled in the tick of your brow. Again, you felt like a pet—skittish of a new owner, ungrateful for the show of kindness. Resenting that you understood exactly what he was doing.

You tried to sit up better, hissing when something in your spine cinched, body lurching sideways. 

The bottle remained extended. But it may as well have been on the opposite side of the cavern. In this position you couldn’t drink. Not when one arm was barely able to keep you up on its own.

The heat on your face spread. Your tongue grew heavy. His remained passive. Not a single word flowing past his closed lips as he waited on the inevitable.

“I…” You licked your lips, blinking rapidly. “I can’t drink like this.”

It took a second. Two. Three. Then his arm lowered, the bottle settling on the ground. He gave you a pleasant smile, made hollow by the calculation in his eyes.

“Let me help you up, then.” 

With effort, you kept a refusal down. More effort was needed to keep still when he leaned over, warmth seeping over. Gathering pillows, forming a pile you could lean on, easing you upright as it grew. Fingers splayed over your back whenever he adjusted you, sheer strength keeping you stable. His fingers wrapping around the back of your neck once when your breath hitched. Squeezed before moving on. Brushing against you as he worked.

His closeness made you aware of the absence of his breath. How loud yours sounded in the cavern.

Only when satisfied, did he settle back on the ground. Leaning slightly towards you. As if eager.

Your neck protested from holding your head down as you stared at your lap. 

The bottle entered your vision. Without looking, you took it, something quiet aching in your chest.

You had been wrong.

The blonde girl was never the most frightening. Smiley, with his face splitting grin and towering frame, never the most intimidating.

He was.

Your fingers shook, barely able to grasp the cap. And he. kept. watching. The cap twisted loose. The crick of snapping plastic cracking in your ears. And no matter how dry your mouth was, you couldn’t drink. Not while he watched with eyes that wanted to consume everything—

But you lifted it to your lips anyway. Understood he’d watch regardless. That’s what they always did. Now was no different. You managed to take a sip, muscles clenching uncomfortably around it.

“Good—”

You flinched, breath hitching. Stopped listening the second the purr of praise spilled from his lips. Heat flushed from cheeks to arms, to loins. Reaching all the way to curling toes.

His smirk still seared into the side of your head. For a moment you believed he’d wait until you emptied the whole thing. But he glanced away, mercifully cutting some of the tension pressing against your ribs. Stood up and walked towards the table.

With his back towards you, your eyes snapped to follow its length. Along shoulders that held impossible strength. Up to the loose curls of his hair. You shivered, quickly looking away. The next sip went down easier, cool water sliding smoothly across your tongue. But your body barely registered its refreshing touch. It was focussed on heat and pressure and the hard thud of your pulse.

The cowboy lifted a plate and some cutlery, taking them back to you.

Your fingers worked at the bottle. For a moment, he stood over you. Hips nowhere close to you, but that didn’t matter when you’d be face to face with his—

You swallowed, refusing to turn his way.

As if aware of your thoughts, his hips tilted. Just briefly before he finally slid down beside you. Still at a respectful distance. You didn’t breathe easier. He was too close. A human hand reached for the can. A claw traced over the lid.

Then punctured it. 

You nearly dropped your bottle, the sound somehow stoking the flame coiling lower and higher.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured, the tease sliding over you in such a way that it required a stop. Immediately.

Your eyes darted around the space, grasping for anything to latch onto. Even as the slow scrape of a claw separating metal dragged down your spine. 

“Who took the candles?” you blurted out, voice embarrassingly high.

His head tilted, smile widening as if he understood exactly what you were doing. But he wasn’t closer to you in the link. He wasn’t. The creature didn’t even glance your way.

He kept working the lid open as he spoke, creaking it upwards, the sweet scent inside drifting out. “He’s no longer with us.”

You stared at the candles, that heat draining slowly. An ache moved in your soul to replace it. 

Smiley got the candles. 

“Why?”

“So you could enjoy the light.” A fork speared the first peach. He gave you a brief, critical look, focussing on your leg. Then proceeded to cut the fruit in pieces. Then the next. And a few more still. You watched the knife move with a strange sense of surreality. The creature held the cutlery so casually. Truly as if he’d done this before, giving Blondie's words more credibility.

He offered the plate, the fork balancing on the edge. 

“You didn’t have to cut them,” you muttered, looking at the evenly sliced pieces. Almost perfectly uniform. But took the plate.

“You almost spilled water over yourself, darling. Just making sure.” His grin gained a mocking edge you chose to ignore. Instead, you put the water aside and took a bite. You almost moaned, stomach gurgling happily after the first few. These were really good actually. A little too sweet, but you understood Victor’s love for them now. 

The cowboy kept to himself, apparently content to watch. You didn’t let it get to you and tried to simply enjoy the food after such a horrible day. It wasn’t particularly filling, but enough to satisfy your stomach for the time being. Plus… taking even one more bite was unbearable under that stare.

He held out his hand after you finished, and you handed him the plate. His fingers brushed against yours, lingering just long enough to skirt on the edge of inappropriate. As if any of this was.

“So you got stuck on babysitting duty?” you quickly asked, pulling your hand back as casually as possible. “Shouldn’t you be out there, knocking on people’s windows while they shower?”

“You were taking an awfully long time,” he mused, putting the plate aside.

You almost twitched. So he’d been waiting there for far longer already, was what he said.

“We just wanted to make sure you didn't get lonely.” His eyes crinkled, humor catching in the blue. For once not completely blacked out by dilated pupils. “Or require—” his gaze dropped to your leg, “—assistance.” The pitch of his voice suggested something else entirely.

Were they convinced you’d attempt to drag yourself out somehow? The light widening of his eyes told you they were. And he was quite excited about it too with the way his body stilled. As if ready to pounce.

Maybe it was watching him cut fucking peaches, but some tension had left your muscles. That strange pull towards him nudged its way to the front.

“They put the cowboy in charge of containment," you muttered to yourself. Then, louder, you said, “where’s the lasso, then? Can’t drag me back properly without one.”

"Oh?" His head tilted. “If you wanted to be all tied up, you only needed to ask, sweetheart,” he said perfectly conversationally. As if the words weren’t completely outrageous.

You ignored the heat flushing down your neck and threw him a surly glance. “Don't make it weird. I’ll leave.”

The cowboy made a show of checking your leg again, then smiled blandly. “I’m sure you will.”

“You know you're in slapping range, right?”

“I wouldn't try.” His smile sharpened. “You won't like the consequences.”

A shiver ran along the length of your spine, toes curling. You had a feeling he was very right on that account. The cowboy didn’t seem the type to tolerate such defiance.

You glanced around. At stolen things. “Did… Did you get anything?” 

Looking over the place as you were, you almost missed it—the strain at the corners of his eyes. Tight and brief. “Some are mine, yes.”

You studied him. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he almost seemed unsettled by something. You brushed it off. If he didn’t want to tell, he wouldn't.

But something else was pressing against you. 

“I, uhm…” you trailed off, face warming.

His brow raised elegantly at your sudden fluster, but made no further comment.

“What if I need to use the bathroom?”

God, you hoped there was at least something here for that. Anything that wasn’t just a corner in this crevice.

He didn’t share your discomfort. Appeared fully neutral. “I can take you there, if you need to go.”

Wherever ‘there’ was, you didn’t know, but hopefully it was private enough. The last thing you needed was more humiliation.

“...Yes.”

Without further prompting, he pulled the blankets back. His arm slid under your legs, the other wrapping around your shoulders. He made sure to be careful with the broken one. Then he rose, walked towards the entrance like you weighed nothing.

You couldn't quite look him in the eye, stubborn heat clinging to your skin. His warmth spread wherever you two touched. The contrast with the cave’s chill making you want to press closer. Just for the warmth.

“It’s a shame you can’t collect your little rocks now.”

You blinked, shadows evaporating around you as your sight adjusted to the tunnel. “What was so important about them anyway?”

He said nothing. His face stitched carefully back into that blank smile. A sigh pushed through your nose.

The cowboy took a turn halfway down the tunnel. Into a smaller passage you hadn’t noticed when you were escaping. He shifted, made sure you wouldn't bump against the walls. And the further you walked down it, the more you heard it.

Trickling water.

And there, at the end, sat a crack in the cave floor. Below it flowed a gentle stream. Was there a river somewhere then? The only body of water you’d ever seen here had been the Brundles.

More importantly… Was this your bathroom? Did they expect you to... to use the stream?

When the cowboy began lowering you, you knew it was. You inhaled slowly. Managed to balance on one leg with his aid, hands grabbing onto his shirt for stability—until you met his cool gaze and nearly brushed noses.

You let go immediately, twisting to lean against a wall. That’s when you spotted them. Folded cloths. A bucket beside them. Something like horror filled you. Oh God. This day was just getting worse and worse. Were you supposed to clean up with those?

You grumbled, glaring down at the surprisingly plush things. Well, plush for this place, that is. Squinting, you felt something twist inside you. Recognised the strawberry red. Hadn’t Lauren used those? A memory pushed to the surface, innocent and horrific all at once. 

Meagan dropping food. Her father complaining about the waste while the girl grew red in the face. Lauren had cleaned up after the girl, apologizing for the mess. 

With one of those exact cloths.

The first time you ate there, invited by the girl.

It had also been the last. 

Your nails pushed against the stone, bleeding white from the pressure.

“Can you leave?”

You kept your face turned to the wall. Even as your instinct jittered, murmuring about the predator at your back.

Shoes scuffed against stone. Footsteps moving out of the narrow passage. You watched him go, shock filtering through you. You had expected him to offer to stay and help, given your leg. It was a relief he didn’t.

It was a hazardous task. With some near falls in the small river, but you managed. It took far longer than it should, and you took advantage of every second alone.

You strained your ears. But no sound aside from the soft trickle of water resonated. A little further to the right, you had seen it—water pouring in a gentle torrent from above. Throwing a glance back, you peered down the passage. No one there. Swallowing, you inched towards where water flowed from the ceiling, one hand trailing the wall.

Craning your head back, you found the gap, and swore you saw a sliver of light. Jagged rocks ringed the hole. Narrow. Slippery. Impossible to fit through.

Disappointment swelled like a growth within you.

“Still thirsty?”

You startled—and set your broken leg down without thinking. Agony snapped through it, making your breath choke.

The cowboy walked inside. Blood drained from your face. He made no sound at all. His feet finding the stone as quietly as a proper predator. Thumbs hooked lazily in his belt.

So all this time...

The noise was made on purpose.

“N-no, I was just—there’s water coming from there. I was curious about it.” The words tumbled out too quickly to be convincing.

His lips lifted.

“Wouldn’t try to take a swim, sweetheart.” His gaze dipped to the crack, mere inches from your feet.

He continued walking, closing in like something that knew its prey was trapped.

“Wasn’t planning to.” Your voice still shook from his sudden appearance.

The creature didn’t stop. Not at an arm's length. Not when you instinctively pressed back. Into the corner, shoulders meeting the wall, spilling water missing you just barely.

His palm landed beside your head. He leaned forward, that familiar lopsided smirk close to your ear.

“I wouldn’t be too curious,” he murmured, “We might have to… reel you back.”

Cold nestled in your chest.

“Let’s get you back to bed.” 

You barely processed anything after that, brain strobing with warnings about things you couldn't change right now. 

And then your eyes caught on the rings of rope newly added to his belt. Like an actual cowboy.

You understood the warning very well.

Behave, now.

“Can’t have you hurting yourself again,” he finished lightly, undermining the threat beneath.

You didn’t struggle when his arms came around you, warm and solid. Stayed still while he carried you back and settled you in the nest, your leg carefully propped up again. Didn’t even complain when he smoothed a strand of hair from your face. His nail trailed down your cheek and stopped under your chin, tilting your head up. He looked down at you with that unhurried calm they carried.

“Searching won’t always be rewarded.” Your name left his lips. A rarity, and wrapped in something silky when it did. “Some things are better left forgotten.”

With that, he wound his presence around yours, drawing up that traiterous warmth again. Before long, he pushed your crushing fatigue to the forefront. 

Your eyes drifted past his shoulder. To the plate and cutlery that had found their way back to the table. Clean. As if they’d never left. The empty can was gone too.

He had been busy while you struggled. Took advantage of every second too. You almost looked at the ropes again.

The cowboy drew back, leaving the cold to tickle where he had touched you. Then he settled beside you. In the way he had that first night. Not touching, but close enough that it hardly mattered.

Your stomach turned at how easily the quiet sat between you now. Even if something in your soul itched, hungering for something. 

Someone.

A shaky breath climbed up your throat.

Carefully, you settled down as well, pulling the blankets up around your neck, body sagging with relief. Aching joints soaking up the warmth. You stared at the ceiling. At the dips. Jagged protrusions. The shadows between them 

“Will the others come here?” you whispered.

He kept quiet. In the link he prodded, checked. Just another thing you allowed now. After a moment, you felt the answer come through.

No.

You didn't know what to do with the relief that followed. 

Because why would you be glad to have him here at all?