[ warnings ] supernatural/paranormal entity, unsettling sounds, being chased through dark woods, intense emotions, injuries (literally only a rolled ankle and some scratches), frustration between characters, and mentions of a missing girl. Let me know if I missed any!
[ author's note ] whew... I've been gone for a bit but I have a good reason: I got engaged and had to process all that lol but here I am now! ready to write more to this, and hope that I didn't loose the plot in my time away (let's be honest, this had been planned for a bit).
sorry that I had gone MIA after promising a new chapter, everything just kinda happened all at once. but that's okay! I'm back now and am hoping to really push out chapters now that my head is on straight lol. also, soz that this is a tad bit short, but I really didn't know how to push it forward lmao
also, I've been binging all of ethel cain's albums to really feel that southern gothic horror vibes that I really want this book to be.
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UNEDITED. [ last chapter ] [ next chapter ]
WILLA DEAN SHOWED UP, HER TEAR-STREAKED face red. She’d been crying for hours, from the sounds and looks of it. You sat on the couch, the living room light illuminating you all. You had draped one of Mama’s blankets around her shoulders, but Willa Dean didn't seem to acknowledge its weight.
Jeno had pulled up the driveway shortly after Willa Dean had, asking you a silent question. You told him, and Jeno offered to call his dad to report Callie missing.
“No. He won’t do shit,” Willa Dean spat. “He didn’t do shit when Mrs. Carrow went missin’, what makes you think he’ll get his ass out of that office to find Callie?” You lowered your eyebrows, gaze snapping to Jeno. He lifted a hand, mouthing we’ll talk about it later.
You crossed your arms over your chest, watching as Jeno lowered himself onto the couch beside Willa Dean.
“We’ll find her,” He promised. He kept his hands hanging between his knees. Willa Dean shook her head, a fresh wave of tears rolling down her face. “Not because of your dad, Jeno.” She snapped. You moved to the other side of Willa Dean, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.
“No, not because of him, we’ll find her.” You reiterated. You pulled Willa Dean into a tight hug. She sniffled, warm tears falling onto your shoulder. “Promise?” Her voice broke. You looked at Jeno, nodding your head. “I promise, Willa Dean.”
“She’ll be back here before you know it.” Jeno agreed. Willa Dean looked up at him, a few more tears rolling down her cheeks. “We need to go out and look for her.” She pushed off of the couch. “Now, wait—” Jeno started, hands held out in front of him.
Your hands dropped to the cushions beside you. “She’s right, Jeno. Sitting here’s not gonna bring her back home. Maybe we can find her if we look now.”
Willa Dean sniffled, wiping at her eyes. “Then, please, let’s go. If there’s any chance that we could find her sooner.”
Jeno shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. “At night? There’s no tellin’ what’s out there, or where she went. Woods’ll swallow everythin’ up, anyways. Our best chance is to wait until morning, come up with a plan. She could be anywhere by now.”
“Anywhere is better than her being dead!” Willa Dean snapped. She whirled towards Jeno, breathing heavily..
The air was heavy with the words left unsaid, with Jeno’s pessimistic retort that died on his lips when you shot him a look. You reached behind you and pulled a blanket tight around your shoulders, thinking—Callie was out there, in the dark, with no one other than the three of you knowing that she was missing.
“We’ll be needing flashlights.” You said, hands trembling. You pulled your gaze from your hands, eyes darting between Willa Dean and Jeno. You rise from the couch, bare feet cold against the wooden floor. “And if we’re going, we stay together. No exceptions.”
Jeno’s eyes caught yours—something unreadable flickering there. He stared at you for a long moment before sighing, dropping his hands from his hips. “I’ll grab the flashlights.”
“They should still be above the china cabinet.” You said. Jeno nodded once before turning away, boots echoing on the wooden floors as he walked into the kitchen.
“Please don’t let him convince you to wait until morning,” Willa Dean said quickly, so softly that you almost couldn’t hear her. “We have to look now, go now.”
You leaned closer, trying to comfort her when Jeno stepped back into the room, fiddling with one of the three flashlights tucked in between his arm and body. He looked up, fingers pausing over the on switch. Willa Dean’s nails dug into the soft skin of your wrist.
“Everythin’ okay?” He asked, slowly walking further into the living room. Willa Dean watched him, her bottom lip trembling. You smiled. “Everything’s alright, Jeno.” You pulled Willa Dean’s fingers from you skin, walking over to Jeno to grab the two flashlights pressed between his bicep and torso.
He watched you, his gaze burning into your back. You handed Willa Dean a flashlight before dropping to the couch, pulling your converse on. You quickly laced them up before standing, fingers gripping the cylinder of the flashlight. You stuffed it into your back pocket before bending down and picking up your phone, slipping it into the other.
“Ready?” You asked them, brushing in between Willa Dean and Jeno before either of them could respond. You stepped onto the porch, the boards creaking slightly. You side-stepped a weak board as you quickly put your hair into a pony tail.
The night smelled of damp earth and woodsmoke. Somewhere in the distance, a bird sang, it’s call sharp with warning.
“Don’t hear somethin’ like that unless somethin’s dyin’.” Willa Dean murmured, and stepped onto the porch beside you. Jeno followed, his unbuttoned white work shirt shifting in the soft wind, revealing the white tank underneath. He adjusted his grip on the flashlight, letting out a humorless huff. “It’s just a bird.” Willa Dean shot him a look.
“Momma always said that they ain’t just birds. Not ‘round here.”
You swallowed thickly, shining your beam towards the woods. The trees looked taller than you remembered, their shadows knitting together into something more sinister.
“Ready?” Jeno asked, sighing. He didn’t sound too pleased about walking through the woods at night. You pursed your lips, already despising going with Willa Dean’s rash choice. “As I’ll ever be.”
“That’s better than nothin’, I guess.” Jeno murmured before taking off towards the woods, boots crunching in the dirt. “Keep up, y’all’ll get lost quicker than a calf in a briar patch if you don’t.” Jeno called over his shoulder. You turned towards Willa Dean, making sure she started walking first before taking off in a jog to catch up to them.
The flashlight beams cut ragged slices into the dark of the forest, casting dancing shadows in the undergrowth. You stayed close behind Willa Dean, your free hand brushing against the tree trunks. You hoped that it would be a reminder that there was a way out of the endless darkness of the woods.
The deeper you three went, the thicker the darkness grew. Every few steps, Willa Dean murmured under her breath—from what you could pick up, some were bible verses, others were things that her mother had told her. It made your stomach twist.
Jeno walked ahead, shoulders tense, flashlight steady in his grip. “Shh.” He lowered down a bit, looking around.
You and Willa Dean froze, breath catching.
At first, you couldn’t hear anything but the silence pressing in on you. Then, a faint shuffle, a snap of a twig.
“Deer,” Jeno murmured, still tense. “Just a deer.”
Your breath trembled as you looked around the woods, your flashlight bouncing around. The light caught the shape of something on the edge of the path, darker than dark, standing still between two towering pines. Your throat closed up. The thing didn’t move. It watched you from its place.
The shape shifted, tilting into a slow, unnatural lean. The bird sang again, closer.
A loud, wailing scream echoed around you.
It was too long, too raw, to be human. It couldn’t have been.
Your blood went cold, flashlight flickering. The figure lunged forward. You gasped, falling backwards. Your flashlight fell from your hands, blinking out.
Two beams of light illuminated you. You squinted against the sudden light, lifting a hand to block the light from blinding you. “What happened?” Jeno asked, walking over to pull you to your feet.
You dusted your hands off on your jeans. You bent down, picking up the flashlight, face burning. “Nothin’.” You said quickly. Jeno opened his mouth to speak when another screech echoed around them.
“Run, get back to the house.” Jeno’s voice cracked into a growl, grabbing your bicep and shoving you forward. Willa Dean followed after.
Your chest ached as you ran, pushing yourself harder than you'd ever done. You regretted not taking your friends up on their offers of morning runs now.
Branches snatched at your hair, scratched at your face. You panted, breaking through the treeline first. You turned, grabbing Willa Dean by the hand, pulling her towards the house. Jeno followed after, close behind you two.
You was the first to step onto the porch, your ankle rolling. You hissed, quickly flinging open the door. “Come, come on.” You panted, waving Willa Dean and Jeno into the house. Jeno pulled you in with him, the screen door slamming shut behind you. He shoved the door shut, trapping you between him and the door.
“What,” He started. “The hell was that?”
You frowned, ignoring the sharp ache in your ankle. You stayed silent. “______, why the fuck did you get its attention?” Jeno shoved off of the door, running a hand through his hair. He stormed into the living room. “Your time in Raleigh fucked up what you remember about Red Hollow.”
Anger simmered just beneath your skin and you stomped towards Jeno, jabbing a finger into his chest.
“I remember well enough what not to do here, Jeno. My time in Raleigh hasn't done shit to my memory about this place.”
Jeno scoffed. “Really? What was that out there? Huh? You really remember what your Mama drilled into your head?” You shoved against Jeno’s chest, but the action didn’t move him. You stared at him longer before shoving harder, moving past him.
“Don’t fuckin’ walk away, ______!” Jeno called after you.
“Just stop! The both of you!” Willa Dean screamed.
Three loud knocks echoed through the room.
You jumped, spinning towards Jeno. He lifted his finger to his mouth, telling them to stay silent. Slowly, he walked towards where you and Willa Dean stood, whispering softly. “Quietly, into the kitchen, don’t make a noise.”
Willa Dean nodded once, turning towards the kitchen, murmuring to herself. “Momma said not to answer it if it comes knockin’, don’t listen to it, don’t whistle back…”
You stared at Jeno, who stared back. “Go, ______.”
Slowly, you shook your head. “No,” you answered softly. “I’m not hiding from it.”
Jeno let out a low breath. “You always were too damn stubborn.” He spun you around, pushing against your shoulders to place you into the kitchen. He quietly walked towards the sink, pulling the curtains shut, blocking the dark night out.
Three more knocks echoed from the living room walls. Willa Dean made a small noise, slipping to the floor and pressing her hands over her ears. She started rocking back and forth. Your pulse jumped in your throat.
Jeno pressed a hand against your shoulder, lowering you beside Willa Dean. He knelt beside you, covering your bodies with his. He glanced over his shoulder, turning back to you before slowly pushing himself to his feet.
He carefully made his way back into the living room, barely moving the curtain away from the window. You shifted around Willa Dean, watching Jeno. “Don’t do that,” You hissed quietly. “What if it sees you?”
Jeno leaned away from the window, letting the curtain fall shut. He looked towards you, opening his mouth to speak.
“______…”
They froze. You blood turned cold. Willa Dean whimpered, pressing her hands to her ears. “Don’t listen, don’t listen, don’t listen…”
You chest heaved as you stood up, slowly making your way to Jeno, whatever words you had were stuck in your throat.
Jeno cursed softly, making his way over to you. “Don’t pay attention to it—” He started, but was cut off by the flickering of the lights. You and Jeno looked towards the light on the ceiling before it shut off, leaving them in darkness.
Willa Dean let out a short scream,. “Son of a bitch.” Jeno growled, clicking on a flashlight. “Y’all okay?” He asked. You nodded. You walked over to Willa Dean, helping her to her feet. You both walked into the living room. You carefully lowered Willa Dean to the couch. You turned towards Jeno.
“I think it left.” Jeno huffed. You wrapped your arms around your waist, staying quiet. Willa Dean sniffled, looking at both of them. “Callie’s out there with that… thing.”
“You don’t know that, Willa Dean, she could have just been late to get back home. She’s probably there now.” Jeno tried. Willa Dean was already shaking her head, a fresh wave of tears rolling down her face. “She’s gone, I just know it.” She whimpered quietly. You moved to place your hand onto her shoulder, but Willa Dean pulled away, lying down on the couch, her back turned towards them.
You pursed your lips before grabbing one of Mama’s blankets and draping it over her shoulders. “Y’all should stay here tonight.” You said softly, turning towards Jeno. The beam of the flashlight illuminated the space around you two, but seemed to make his eyes darker.
Your lips parted, looking to the floor. “Just in case that thing is still out there.”
Jeno took a step closer. “That eager to keep me around, Carrow?” He smirked.
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I don’t want your dad to question why you were attacked at my house, Lee.” He let out a low chuckle. “Makes sense. Where would I sleep?”
You looked around the room before sighing. You gestured towards Daddy’s chair. "That’s the only place where you can sleep comfortably.” Jeno glanced back at the chair. He shook his head. “I know who’s chair that is, ______. I can take the back bedroom.”
Your heart thundered. “The same room that was destroyed only yesterday?”
“Yes, that same room. The bed is still in there, perfectly fine. You sleep in your Daddy’s chair.”
He didn’t let you argue. He gestured with the flashlight for you to sit in the chair. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. You watched as Jeno walked into the kitchen and disappeared around the corner of the hallway.
The house settled in the darkness, every creak of the floorboards a reminder that you weren’t alone. Willa Dean’s breathing evened out, though her fingers still twitched against the blanket pulled up to her chin. Jeno had gone quiet down the hall, the low sound of his boots against wood fading as he shut the back bedroom door.
You curled deeper into Daddy’s chair, blanket pulled tight under your chin. You tried to match your breaths to Willa Dean’s, tried to pretend the night wasn’t alive just beyond the glass.
Then, three knocks.
Sharp. Even. Against the window this time.
Your heart seized, and you held your breath. You didn’t move, didn’t dare look.
A voice followed, low and slurred, like it had been dredged up from the bottom of a well.
“______…”
Your stomach turned to ice. You squeezed your eyes shut, whispering Mama’s old warning in your head: Don’t you answer, don’t you answer, don’t you answer.
The knocks came again, softer now, almost playful. Then a long scrape of nails dragging slowly across the siding.
Jeno’s footsteps thundered down the hallway. He burst into the room, flashlight beam cutting through the dark. The sound stopped the second he stepped in.
He stood there, chest heaving, jaw tight. “Don’t move,” he said, voice low and hard, eyes locked on the window.
You didn’t. Couldn’t. You clutched the blanket closer, staring at the glass where something lingered just beyond the pane.
The whisper came one last time, almost a laugh now.
we're finally at 10k words of the last Carrow Girl gonna celebrate by eating a bowl of cereal (I would bake a cake, like I normally do when I hit that word amount--I like to treat myself every 10k words--but I'm lazy soooo)
so... I've been mia I know, but I have a really good reason as to why: I got engaged and was just trying to process wtf happened lol, so my bf is now my fiancé and now that I have fully processed that, I can start working on the last carrow girl again!
so sorry for the lack of an update today!! my bf came back into town and i spent time with him, and was also just not feeling all that well throughout the week. plan for double chapters next sunday!!
[warnings ] mentions of a break-in, stalking imagery, implied surveillance, paranoia and dread, tense physical proximity, grief and loss, authority gaslighting (briefly), unsolved trauma, fear of being watched and hunted, mild language, light suggestive tone, mentions of a missing person
[ author's note ] this one was kind of hard to write 😪 wonderin' if it's because we finally get to meet jeno for the first time. that's what I'm gonna go with. there's something about writing a character who's been haunting the narrative (not really) and then—boom, bro's there.
also, protective jeno off the bat??
sign me tf up!!!
like sir!!!! why are you dragging her away from the mess just to comfort her???? I'm eating that shit up, need it in my life plz.
i was literally sweating writing some of this chapter lmaooo, not because it was spicy (yet)(maybe)(probably), but because the tension?? the unsaid things?? the way vera mae tries to act normal when everything's unraveling in slow motion?? we are eating our way through the dread and I love that for us.
that ending though!!!! it went from tense to "oh mY GOD" real quick. i live for a good twist, and we are only just getting started.
Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this. please interact (vote, comment, all that jazz), it helps me know if you liked this!
Also, let me know if y'all want me to keep putting two chapters out at 7PM or if you want me to stagger it (like, one is at 7, the next is at 7:15 or something)
[ masterlist ] [ wattpad ] [ ao3 ]
UNEDITED. [ last chapter ] [ next chapter ]
“THE CARROW GIRL. NEVER THOUGHT I’D SEE you again,” Jeno said, tilting his head just enough for the sunlight to catch in his eyes. His arms were crossed—casual, calculated, a man who knew exactly the kind of silence his presence could command. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. Not really.
You stared at Sheriff Rawlins’ adopted son—Jeno Lee, all grown up and carved out of something sharper than memory. His skin was darker now, bronzed by summers you hadn’t been around to see. He’d filled out, too—broad-shouldered and muscled beneath a white, unbuttoned work shirt over a white tanktop, rolled to the elbows, veins catching the light. His body spoke of manual labor, long nights, and maybe a little sin.
And then there was the mullet—cut high and tight on the sides, jet-black and longer in the back, a style that would’ve looked ridiculous in anyone else’s hands. But on him? It was a warning. A dare. A promise.
His eyes met your—dark, molten, glowing gold in the afternoon sun. You swore your knees threatened to give out. There was something in that gaze that said he remembered it all. The sermons. The stolen glances. The unfinished business.
Your lips parted, but no words came.
“______?” he said again, this time quieter, as if he could feel something shifting in you. He took a step closer, one eyebrow raised. “Should I call Buck?”
You blinked your eyes. You shook your head. “Sorry, uh, no. There’s no need to call him.” You smiled up at Jeno. His eyebrow quirked upwards, hands dropping to his hips. He smiled, leaning away from you.
“I’m here to turn your utilities back on.” Jeno said, slipping back into a cool, professional persona. You nodded, looking around the foyer before pressing your hand against your forehead. “What do you need?”
Jeno watched you, a half smile on his face. “Nothing, I’m just letting you know. Your water meter and electricity box are behind your house.”
Heat flared up your face. You nodded. “Oh…kay.” Jeno dipped his chin. “I’ll let you know when I’m finished.” You thanked him, shutting the door after he’d turned away. You moved through the house, straightening items on the kitchen counters, wiping down the layer of dust that had settled on the counter tops.
You threw away the paper towel, wiping your hands on your shorts. You hummed softly to yourself, looking around the kitchen before deciding to brave your old bedroom again. You figured that, since you'll have electricity and water again, your sheets were overdue for a wash. You walked to your door, twisted the doorknob and pushed it open.
You gasped, staring at the destroyed room. The frame of the photo of you and Daddy was shattered, your face gouged out. You chewed on your lip, trying to stop the tears that welled in your eyes. The cross Daddy and Mama had given you was cracked and on the floor beside the shattered frame. The sheet over the mirror had been yanked off, and the mirror shattered.
Your heart pounded against your ribcage.
You stood in the doorway of the room, unsure of what to do. Should you call Jeno inside, have him see if there was someone hiding in the closet, or anywhere else in the room? Should you call his father yourself? You chewed on the inside of your cheek. God, it’s probably nothing. An animal probably snuck in.
“______?”
You screamed, spinning around. Jeno stared at you, frowning. “Are you…what the hell?” He brushed past you, storming into the room. Jeno looked around the room before walking towards the closet. He yanked it open, turning away from it when he saw no one was in there. He turned back towards you.
“Were you not going to say anything about this?” Jeno stormed towards you, grabbing your shoulders. You looked up at him, shaking your head. “It was probably a raccoon or something.”
Jeno scoffed. “______, a wild animal can’t do shit like that.”
You frowned. “Maybe they could.”
“You’re been gone for so long that you forgot that wild animals can’t shatter mirrors and pictures? A wooden cross?” She looked into the room, face flaring with heat.
“Come with me, ______, I’ll call Dad.”
Jeno didn’t give you a chance to protest. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from the room, and into the living room. He gently pushed you onto the couch beside Daddy’s chair. He pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping at the screen a couple of times before pressing it to his ear. Jeno pressed a fist to his hip, pacing back and forth in front of you.
“I’m at the old Carrow farmhouse. ______’s come back and it looks like there was a break-in.” Jeno spoke rapid-fire into the phone, humming his response. “Okay, just… hurry. I didn’t see any signs of a break in when I was out back, but there could have been some at another part of the house.”
With that, Jeno hung up. He looked at you.
“Dad said to get out of the house. If there is anyone here, who knows if they’re waiting to do something when I leave.”
You stared at him. “If that were the case, then they would have done something in the few minutes before you’d gotten here.” Jeno stared at her. “______, don’t argue about this. Maybe you caught them off guard. I don’t know, I’d rather not risk it.”
He held out a hand for you to take. You looked at it before blowing out a sigh, standing up. You walked into the foyer before turning towards him. “What if—”
“______, outside.”
You frowned at him, watching as he positioned himself in front of stairs so that you didn’t run up them. “Fine.” You grumbled, pulling open the door. Jeno followed you out, not bothering to shut the door.
You carefully shut the screen door after he walked through, boots thudding against the old wood. “Porch’s seen better days.” Jeno remarked absently.
You hummed, crossing your arms and pressing your elbows into the wood of the railing. Your fingers twitched against your arms as you stared out at the desolate road. “So,” You stared, barely able to be heard over the hum of cicadas. “You randomly appearing back in my life mean something, or are you just passing through?”
Jeno sighed, leaning on the railing beside you. He stared at the golden wheat across the road. “Nothin’ in this town means something more, ______.”
“That a threat, Sheriff’s Boy?”
“That a confession, Carrow Girl?”
You turned to face Jeno, finding him already staring at you. In that moment, all the years you'd spent in Raleigh dissolved. They were two kids again, hiding behind thick trunked trees, whispering secrets to one another before you had to ride your bike home, trying to make it home in time for supper. Only now, Jeno’s voice was deeper, and yours cracked whenever you thought too much about everything that happened to you.
“Why not? Obviously this all has to mean something, or what good is it that we go through it?”
Jeno stayed quiet, taking a step closer. Not quite touching you, but just enough to make the porch boards groan beneath them.
“I saw that photo,” he murmured. “The one that was stabbed through? In the trash?”
You tensed. You watched him warily.
“Someone don’t like the fact that you’re back home, ______. I think they’re trying to scare you out of here.” He reached out, brushing his fingers against the inside of your wrist. “Let me help you, ______, please.”
“Don’t touch me like that.” You whispered, but didn’t pull away.
“You don’t mean that.”
“You don’t know me anymore, Jeno.”
He stayed silent, staring at you like he wanted to—like he wanted to peel the past off of your skin with his bare hands, and hold what’s left.
Slowly, Sheriff Rawlins pulled into the driveway.
You stepped back, adjusting your shirt over your shorts. You walked around Jeno, taking a step off of the porch to wait for the Sheriff. He climbed out of his car, placing his hat on his head. “Hi there, ______.” Buck Rawlins smiled, hooking his thumbs in his front belt loops. Jeno walked over to them, standing with his hands in his pockets. “Back bedroom’s a mess, mirror shattered, frame broken, cross cracked in half. Didn’t see anyone in the house.”
Buck turned his attention to the house, squinting against the sun. “Alright, stay out here, I’ll do a sweep through.” You nodded your in thanks, turning and watching as the Sheriff called out into the house. There was no answer. He pulled open the screen door, and started his search.
You rocked on your feet, waiting for Buck to finish his search. Jeno stayed silent, arms crossed. After a few more minutes, Buck came out of the house, shaking his head. “No one’s here, ______. It was probably just a prank, some kids wantin' to scare you.”
It didn't feel like a prank. You pursed your lips. “They ruined a photo I can never get back, Buck. That doesn’t feel like a funny prank.”
Buck walked up to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Kids are cruel nowadays. Kids ‘round here have nothin’ better to do than be mean.”
You sighed. “Thank you, Buck. I appreciate it.”
Buck smiled. “Give me a call if anything else happens.” He reaches into his shirt pocket, pulling out a card with his number on it. You took it, thanking him. Buck dipped his hat before going back to his car and following the roundabout out of the driveway. You turned towards Jeno. He stared down at you, an eyebrow lifted.
“I’ll write down my number, so you have it as well. Just in case.” He pulled out a worn pad of paper and a pen, quickly writing down his number. He handed it back to you. “Seriously, call me if anything happens, ______.”
You took the paper, your thumb brushing his. Electricity arched through you. You frowned, slipping the paper into your pocket. “Electricity and water’re turned back on.” Jeno called over his shoulder. “Thanks.” You called back.
You didn’t watch him go. You didn’t want to. The evening was thick, breathing. If you stared after him too long, you might remember much more than you wanted to.
Instead, you stepped onto the porch and walked into the house.
The screen door slapped shut after you, the same way it had when Daddy was too tired to catch it. The sound echoed around the foyer, soft and final.
Something was wrong.
You tensed, feeling the shift in the air, as if the entire house held its breath. The hum of the newly powered fridge was louder than it should’ve been, the tick of the clock in the living room dragging out seconds.
A small creak.
Upstairs.
You stood frozen in the middle of the foyer, blood beating the beats of war drums in her throat.
The house had been empty, Sheriff Rawlins had cleared it himself. He’d said so.
What if he’d missed something. Did he go up the stairs?
Your hands shook as you took a step onto the staircase, careful not to make too much noise as you went up the steps, one hand gripping the bannister, the other pressed close to your stomach. As soon as you got to the landing, you froze.
Daddy’s office had been closed since the night he died, and no one was allowed in there.
But now, the door was open.
Not wide, just enough for you to see the dying sunlight kiss the edge of his desk. On its surface, between the stacks of papers and envelopes, was a box.
Old. Carrow-old. With rusted hinges. You slowly walked into the study. You walked around the desk, running a hand over its smooth surface. The faint smell of cedar and dust and blood assaulted your nose.
You frowned, fingers trembling as you flipped the latch up, and opened the lid. You took a step back as you saw what was inside of the box.
Polaroids.
Not just of you—but of Mama, and Daddy. Some were old, their edges curled with age. But the one directly on top hadn’t been touched by age or many hands.
It was of you, from that morning. Standing in front of the garage, fists pressed against your hips and a triumphant look on your face. And behind you, in the woods, was a figure. Just a blur, but still there.
“Oh my God,” You whispered, voice trembling.
Silence weighed in on you, so when the crunch of gravel echoed through the office, you froze. Headlights slanted through the slats of the blinds, illuminating you as you stood there, staring at the car driving up your driveway. You slammed the lid of the box shut, shoving it beneath Daddy’s desk.
You rushed from the room, slamming the door. You took the steps two at a time, pulling open the door just as Buck slammed his door.
“Sheriff? What are you doing back out here?” You hoped that he couldn’t hear just how breathless you were.
He sighed. “Someone called to say that they saw someone lurkin’ around your house, ______. I’m just makin’ sure no one is here.” Your heart hammered in your chest. “Someone’s out here?” You leaned out of the door, looking towards the left and right.
“That’s what I’m checkin’ for, Miss Carrow.” You nodded. Buck smiled. “Just stay inside.”
You nodded once more, shutting the door after Buck turned away from the door, the paper Jeno gave you burning in your pocket. You pulled it out, staring at the scrawled number and for if you ever need anything.
You pulled out your phone, slowly starting to type in his number. Your thumb hovered over the green call button. You huffed out a breath before pressing the ringing phone to your ear.
He answered on the second ring.
“______?”
You paused. “How’d you know?”
“You’re the only one I’d given my number to in a while.”
“Oh.” You looked out of the large windows of the living room. Buck walked around the property, hand resting on his gun.
“Your dad’s back out here.” You said.
“Oh? Why?” Jeno asked.
“Someone called, said that there was a person around the house.”
“Do you need me to come over?” There was rustling on his end.
“No, no. Your dad seems to have it covered. He’s coming back to the house now.” You walked back to the front door.
“Keep me on the phone.” Jeno said.
“I will.” You responded absently, dropping your arm to your side. Buck stepped onto the porch. “I didn’t see anyone out here, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t someone before I got here.”
You blew out a breath. “Lock the doors, keep them locked if someone knocks. Don’t answer the door for anyone. I’ll have a couple of officers drive out here every hour to keep an eye on the place. With that being said, is there anything you need from me?”
“No, thank you, Buck.”
He offered a smile. “Night, ______.” He turned away from you. You shut the door, lifting the phone to your ear once more.
“I’m coming out, ______. If someone’s lurking around your house...”
“No, Jeno. It’ll be okay. He said that he’s going to have officers driving past.” You argued.
“______, anything could happen in that time between officers. I’m coming over.” Jeno deadpanned. You sighed.
“I’m not going to change your mind, am I?”
“No. I’ll be there in fifteen.” Jeno hung up.
You looked at your phone, scoffing. You dropped your arm, tilting your head back, and shut your eyes. After a few moments, you opened your eyes and reached over, finding the light switch and turning on the light in the foyer. The light bulb flickered, and you worried it would go out. It turned on, illuminating the area.
You sighed, shoulders slumping. You sat down onto the couch, head resting on the back of it. Your phone rang again, vibrating in your hand. You lifted it, frowning. Willa Dean was calling you. You answered.
“Willa—”
“—She never came over here after she got off work, and I’ve tried calling her about a thousand times, ______!” Willa Dean yelled into the phone. You pulled it away from you ear a little.
“Willa Dean, slow down. What’s going on?”
Willa Dean took a breath, sniffling down the line. “It’s Callie. She’s missing, ______.”
[ warnings ] stalking imagery, implied home invasion, mentions of fire/death, mild religious trauma, unsettling community behavior, grief + family loss, ominous/surreal elements, light panic attacks, unwanted physical touch, psychological tension.
[ author's note ] wheewww. had to take a break writing this one. me + churches = a pretty rough time.(I'm sorry if this one isn't all that good, I don't like writing churches all that much)
Alssssoooo..... JENO HAS BEEN INTRODUCED TO THE STORY!!! How we likin' him as a utility worker? Honestly, this was a random twist I added to this, it just felt like a perfect way to introduce him into the story.
Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this, even though she's not as long as chapter one (about 3 to 400 words shorter). please interact (vote, comment, all that jazz), it helps me know if you liked this, and it also gives my brain a sense of accomplishment or something like that lol.
Also, let me know if y'all want me to keep putting two chapters out at 7PM or if you want me to stagger it (like, one is at 7, the next is at 7:15 or something)
[ masterlist ] [ wattpad ] [ ao3 ] [ Mama's car ]
UNEDITED. [ last chapter ] [ next chapter ]
THE NEXT MORNING, WHEN YOU opened your eyes because of the sun shining through the large windows, you knew something had been very wrong.
You pushed yourself from Daddy's chair, Mama's blanket slipping off of your shoulder. You'd slept nearly twelve hours—having fallen asleep shortly after seven in the afternoon. You rubbed your eyes, looking around. Your duffel bag sat, deflated, by the television, and your shoes were tossed, haphazardly on the floor in front of you.
And the large picture of you, asleep, pinned to the wall, a knife stabbed through your sleeping face.
You shoved yourself out of the chair, shoving Mama's blanket off of your body. Any traces of sleep left your system as you stared at that photo. Your breath caught in your throat as you yanked the knife from the wall, dropping it to the top of the TV.
You stared at the photo of yourself, sleeping in the chair. You squeezed the photo in between your hands before turning towards the kitchen, storming to throw the photo away. You stopped in front of the trash can, pausing to stare at the photo once more. You squeezed your eyes shut before crumpling the photo, tossing it into the trash can.
You turned away, rushing into the living room and grabbing a change of clothes. You went into the bathroom that was underneath the stairs, quickly washing up and pulling on your shorts, slipping your loose-fitting tank top over your head. You looked in the mirror, taking in the smattering of freckles across your cheekbones, your face already starting to turn red from the summer sun.
You walked back into the living room, bending at the hips to rummage through your duffel bag to grab your wallet. You shoved it into your back pocket, followed by your phone, and walked out of the house.
You stood on the front porch, staring out at the mist hovering above the grassy hills. You huffed out a breath before stepping off of the sagging porch. You walked towards the separate garage, where you knew Mama’s Malibu had been parked. You pulled open the garage door, letting out a satisfied sigh. Thank God, Mama barely drove this thing around.
You pulled open the driver’s side door, and sat down in the seat. You let out a small shout of excitement as you noticed the keys still in the ignition. You turned them, and the Malibu rumbled to a start.
Mama’s favorite CD was playing softly through the radio. You rolled the windows down, pulling the seatbelt across your chest, and put the car in reverse. You backed out of the garage, humming along to the song as you put the car in drive, following the roundabout around and down the driveway. You turned onto the only road leading back into Red Hollow, the same one that drove past the Church where Daddy died.
You ignored it, keeping your right hand firmly on the wheel, the other one surfing the wind as you drove. Your hair danced in the wind flowing through the car. You slowed at a stop sign, glancing at an old, rusty pickup truck, and the old man sitting behind its wheel. He stared at you, weathered eyebrows lowered with silent judgement as you slowly drove through the intersection.
You glanced at him, frowning, before shaking your head slightly. You ignored the man, and pulled into the electric company. You threw the car into park, turning it off before pulling the keys out of the ignition. You reached over the console, grabbing your wallet that you'd thrown into the seat before driving off. An old bell chimed as you pushed opened the door. A friendly looking woman smiled in your direction.
“Well, if my eyes don’t deceive me, it’s the Carrow girl! ______, right?” She smiled, hooking a loc of curly hair behind her ear. “What can I do ya for?”
You nodded your head, stepping up to the counter. You read the woman’s nametag—Sheila. “I just need to turn the power back on at the house. How much do you need?” Sheila, still chirpy despite it being nearly eight-thirty in the morning, clicked her tongue as she typed on an old looking computer, and pressed a few buttons.
“Thirty-five dollars, please.” Sheila answered, folding her hands on the counter in front of her. You pulled out your wallet. “Do you take credit cards?”
Sheila nodded her head. “There’s just a two dollar processing fee.”
You pulled out your card, holding it out for Sheila to take.
She took it, turning back to the computer, starting to type the information in. “I guess it’s safe to assume that you’re also goin’ to need the water turned back on?”
You nodded your head. “Is the water company still in the same building in town square?” Sheila quickly looked at her before shaking her head. “Oh, no, Darlin’. It—”
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
You tensed, glancing over your shoulder. Daddy’s protégé, Pastor Murphy, stood in the doorway, wearing a dark button up with darker slacks. He held out his hands. “______ Carrow! You’ve grown up.”
You shot him an awkward smile. “Haven’t changed much.” You said quietly. Pastor Murphy appeared beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. You fought the urge to shrug it off. Sheila’s look turned sympathetic as she stared at them. She held your card out for you to take.
“The water company is right down the road, in a red brick building. The sign’s out front.” Sheila said, turning her attention to Pastor Murphy. “What can I do for you?”
You took the distraction to duck away from Pastor Murphy’s hand. You shoved your card into your wallet, ignoring the vibration of your phone as your rushed from the building, quickly ducking into Mama’s car. You slipped lower into the seat, using the fact that a large truck had parked next to you as an advantage.
When Pastor Murphy didn’t appear beside the car, you blew out a breath. You straightened in the seat and started the car. You reversed from your spot, ignoring the feeling of someone’s gaze burning into the side of your face as you drove towards the water company.
This time, there had been no incident. you ran in, paid another thirty-five dollars, and was on your way back out to the house with the promise that people would be out in a couple of hours to complete the services.
You, absently tapping your thumbs against the steering wheel, noticed a group of cars in the Church’s parking lot. It had been a split-second decision to pull into the parking lot, just to see the changes they had made after the fire.
You parked the car and turned it off, climbing out of it. Slamming the door behind you, you walked towards the wooden doors, the hall light shining through the stained glass with thick crosses on them. You hummed softly.
“Hello?” Someone called out. You looked into the office right outside of Daddy’s old one. Willa Dean sat there, a pencil gripped in her fist. “Oh! Hi there, ______!” She smiled widely. Willa Dean dropped the pencil, and shoved away from the desk in front of her.
“Come to see the new church?”
You nodded your head. Willa Dean waved you farther into the office. “Not much has changed. They liked the way the old one was laid out, I guess.”
You lifted your shoulder, wrapping your arms around your waist. You looked around the room, eyes catching on the door leading to the office.
“That’s Pastor Murphy’s office now.” Willa Dean sounded apologetic. “If it were anyone but him, I’d let you go in there.” You fought the shudder that ran down your spine, squeezing your eyes shut.
“Yea, I understand.” Willa Dean laughed. “Come, they’re havin’ a little get-together in the Sanctuary. Some strange welcome committee service, or whatever these little old ladies want to call it.” Willa Dean shrugged, brushing past you. She shoved open the doors of the Sanctuary, cutting off the women’s prayers.
The one holding the bible glared towards them, her thick rimmed glasses low on her nose. “Willa Dean Thatcher, I asked you—”
“I know, Miss Flannagan, but the lady of the hour has blessed us with her presence, by the good graces of God.” Willa Dean made a show of pressing her hands together and bowing slightly, eyes shut in false serenity.
You bit your lip to stop the laugh that threatened to burst from your chest. The woman—Miss Flannagan—sighed, shutting her eyes before turning her attention to you. Her lips parted. “______,” She said after a moment. “Come join us.”
You glanced at Willa Dean before walking over to the group of women, taking a seat in one of the pews. Your breathing picked up as you stared at the Sanctuary. Memories of many Sunday mornings sitting in the front pew beside your Mama, watching Daddy preach his sermons. You remembered Mama pinching your thigh lightly whenever you and the Sheriff’s boy were a little too distracted for her liking.
You pulled yourself from your racing mind, focusing instead on the group of women you'd joined. You barely heard what they’d said before they were bowing their heads, clasping their hands in prayer.
Miss Flannagan led the prayer. “Lord, grant us sight in the shadows, and strength in the silence.”
You froze, hands clasping tighter together. This prayer was the last one your Daddy’d said before the church caught fire with him in it. “Let the blood remember its promise, and the bones not lie,” Miss Flannagan continued, oblivious. “We gather in Your name, as we did before, to bind what was broken, to hush what screams beneath the soil. Bless ______ returned to us, and her duty. May she not wander far from You again. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Miss Flannagan and the other ladies jumped in, speaking among themselves, wholly ignoring your presence.
They were just like everyone else in this town. They blamed you for leaving them. Maybe they even blamed you for the death of their beloved Preacher Carrow.
They didn’t like you. You were just ______ Carrow. You were just Ezekial Carrow’s daughter.
There was nothing you could do right.
“Thank you for having me, Miss Flannagan, but I must really get going. I’ve much to do at home.” You stood up, hoping that they didn’t hear the tremble in your voice. Miss Flannagan turned to you—was that a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes?—pressing a hand to her chest. “It was so good to see you, ______! Please, come back and join us for a sermon.”
You gave her a tight smile, nodding your head. You pulled away, rushing from the Sanctuary. You happened to glance at the doors as you passed, pausing once more.
Taped to the doors was a white sheet of paper, blank besides the words she returns, and still the Lord is merciful.
You turned away from the doors, pressing your back against the wall, taking a couple of gulps of air. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, trying to escape the panic you felt slithering through your system. You shut your eyes, counting your breaths before you went into Willa Dean’s office.
She looked up, flicking her freshly braided blonde hair from her face. “______, are they finished there?” Willa Dean leaned over in her chair, trying to see across the carpeted hall. You shook your head. “No, I… have a lot of things to do back at home. Workers are coming over to turn the electricity and water back on.”
Willa Dean smiled, pushing up from her chair. “That’s wonderful, ______! Maybe after Callie gets off work, we can run up to Whitesburg, go to the IGA there and stock up that kitchen.” She walked around the desk, standing in front of you. You nodded, offering a grateful smile. “That would be wonderful, Willa Dean, thank you.”
“Do you need a ride back to the house?” Willa Dean asked, leaning over the desk to grab her keys. You shook your head. “No. It seemed like luck was on my side, Mama’s Chevy was still in the garage, so I’m driving that.”
Willa Dean gave her a small smile before dropping her keys back onto the desk. “That’s good. Callie gets off work around three this afternoon. Call you when she gets off?”
“Sure.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket, unlocking it and pulling up the contacts app. You held it out for Willa Dean to take.
She did, quickly shooting herself a text so that she had your number. “It’s all set then. If you don’t mind, I’m also going to give it to Callie.”
“That’s fine.” You said. Willa Dean smiled widely. “I’ll see you later.” You turned, walking out of the office. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar face. You lifted your eyes, meeting the familiar, deep blue of Daddy’s eyes. It was a memorial painting, you guessed. Something either the community or Mama had commissioned to hang up here in remembrance. A hall table was placed beneath it, holding three lit, white candles.
You stood in front of the memorial, staring into Daddy’s immortalized face, an uncharacteristic small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. You took a couple of breaths, trying to calm your racing heart.
“Miss you, Daddy. Every day.” You murmured, turning away from the memoriam. You reached into the front pocket of your shorts, making sure you had the keys to the car. You took the steps two at a time, walking towards the Malibu. You opened the door, climbed in, and turned it on. You went to put the car into reverse when you noticed the person standing across the street, staring at you.
You froze, watching the person watch you. Your heart renewed its quick beating, and your breath quickened. You forced yourself to buckle the seatbelt, and put the car in reverse. You backed out of the parking spot, taking your eyes off of the person for a few seconds. When you turned back around, putting the car in drive, the person was gone.
You turned the radio off, and tightened your grip on the steering wheel. You pulled out of the parking lot, keeping your eyes forward, just in case you saw that strange person again.
“Get it together, ______. You’re going to be here for a month, tops. Roughly thirty more days. Just long enough to find Mama, or finalize any bids for the property…”
You continued speaking softly to yourself as you pulled into the driveway of the house. You parked the car back into the garage, making sure you took the keys with you.
You pushed open the door to the house, placing the keys onto the table beside the dead flowers. You walked into the living room, sitting in Daddy’s chair once more. You stayed there until a white truck with the electric company’s emblem turned into the driveway. You forced yourself into a calm state, taking a few even breaths before you walked towards the door to greet the worker.
You forced a smile onto your face as you swung the door open. “Hell—Jeno?”
