Honey and Hemlock. part 1. Sacred Secrets. cult leader john price x psychology student reader tw: dead dove do not eat. weird asf price, dubcon, slow horror, extremely manipulative price. no mentions of y/n. female anatomy. drugging. non-consensual photographs. smut.
Your return to John's sacred ground, was it a surprising name? The words had risen in your mind unbidden and you hadn't pushed them away. Because, to be fair it made sense, although they sounded a bit unhinged but you still remembered that he was a cult leader. An odd culty name for an odd cult leader.
The next morning arrived with a sky the colour of old pearls. The air was soft yellow and it made everything feel almost dreamy, but you still remembered where and what for you were going to. You had driven the familiar road with a new kind of restlessness humming beneath your skin, you could definitely tell that it was different from what you were feeling yesterday. It was something brighter, you were more comfortable now that you were aware of the place and its people. So you were a little excited now, maybe you shouldn’t be? I mean, it was obvious, what kind of adequate person would feel excited to visit a cult?
Genuinely, unexpectedly, almost embarrassingly excited to film this place and its inhabitants. You had spent the night charging batteries and cleaning lenses and telling yourself it was just good research practice. But the mirror had caught you smiling as you packed your bag, and you had looked away quickly, as if caught at something shameful.
Now, as the gate came into view, that excitement curdled slightly. Because it was a crystal clear fact that were waiting for you and you would be lying if you said that it didn’t make you at least a little bit happy.
All of them, the residents, were lined both sides of the gravel path, standing still as statues, their faces turned toward your car like flowers toward the sun. Dozens of them. Men and women, young and not so, dressed in simple clothes in muted colours. You have noticed before that their style was early 70s, their entire personalities and places were. You couldn’t really understand why, how could they be in the past when the world kept going ahead of them? But anyway, every single one of them was smiling. Despite the slight creepiness of the moment, you could tell that they meant the smile. They were completely genuine and for some reason it was both comforting and completely unsettling at the same time. Knowing where they were, who they were with and how they lived, they were absolutely happy.
A thought occurred in your head, you couldn’t help but think that at least one person would sell them with their behaviour. Maybe they’d be acting happy and you could capture it. But so far, not a soul, interesting, you thought. Just a line of people who looked genuinely, bewilderingly happy to see you.
A young woman broke from the formation and approached. She was effortlessly pretty, freckled face, hair pulled back in a simple braid, hands beautiful but they sold how much she worked the earth. And it was evident that she was most likely your age. In fact, they were people of different ages but what was interesting is that there was definitely a pattern there. No one past 30 when it came to women, but even then you could tell that those were the fewest.
“Dear sister” she said as she took your hand, you didn’t notice an involuntary smile that appeared on your face at the thought of how much she resembled the sun with her warmth. “thank you for returning to us.” As you would later learn, her name was Jill. And the moment you looked a little closer into her face, the thought that you’d seen her face before didn’t leave you.
"We are so glad," she continued, her eyes bright and steady on yours, "that Brother John was able to attract such an interesting person to our home. Well, attract was one way to put it, honestly the word landed strangely. As if your presence here had nothing to do with your own choices and everything to do with a force you couldn't name, you did not like the implication but you decided to leave it and only smiled in return.
"I'm just here to film," you heard yourself say, and the words sounded thin even to your own ears.
"Of course you are," she said, and her agreement was so warm, so immediate, so utterly without irony that you almost believed her. She looked very much excited to film as if there was absolutely nothing to hide in here and it wasn’t a cult but just a simple farm where everyone lived happily. That thought made you sigh.
"We'll show you everything," she added, finally releasing your hand. "Brother John said we should answer all your questions." She turned and gestured toward the path that led deeper into the compound."Shall we, dear sister?" You were a little dumbfounded when she called you that. To say the least because ‘dear sister?” As if you were a part of their..whatever they thought this was. But no, you weren’t, so her little name for you sent the shivers down your spine. You were not her sister. You were not anyone's sister here. You were a researcher with a camera and a deadline, and a car that still had a full tank of gas, parked outside a gate that remained open behind you.
"Yes," you said, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. "Of course, if you want to. I’d appreciate that.” And so you followed her down the path. Behind you, the residents walked in different directions, getting back to their business. A soft rustle of footsteps on gravel, a low murmur of voices, the occasional laugh that sounded genuine enough to break your heart. You knew how the cult psychology worked but nevertheless, whenever doing research or actually visiting cults, you always wished that deep in their hearts they understood that all of this was wrong. That they weren’t there willingly.
The path curved, the cabin disappeared behind a stand of trees. And somewhere ahead, though you couldn't see him, you felt John watching. So there he is. Your hand closed in a fist at your subconscious excitement of seeing him again. No, no excitement, remember who this is and remember where you are. You can’t consume the hemlock, it is deadly and poisonous.
Jill, did in fact show you around, barns first, there were around five of them, which impressed you, especially because they were sturdy and well-maintained, their wooden walls weathered to a soft silver grey color. Cows, goats, two chestnut colored horses. Their cattle was quite impressive knowing that all of this was made from scratch and on an open field that had only flowers and soil. Jill explained the feeding schedule, the milking rotation, the way the community shared every task equally while you held your camera, filming everything around you. Surprisingly, Jill and other passing members of the community felt very comfortable around the camera. Very active, calm and friendly. It was something that you paid attention to, it wasn’t your first time interviewing the cult members, usually those people were quite shy and almost uncomfortable in front of the camera, giving how private their lives were. And how much isolated they were from the rest of the world. However, in this case, these factors did not affect the behaviour of these people. Why, you thought. And something was nagging you to try and find out.
"No one works alone," she said, “Brother John always encourages us to share the chores and work together. He says the Lord appreciates our unity.” You wanted to snort because you could bet your on the fact that ‘Brother’ John didn’t do anything at all here while they worked their butts off here. Classic. It felt strange to hear her explanation, because it made perfect sense to you, nevertheless. So far, there was nothing dark or unusual that you could point out and that made you thoughtful.
Then she showed you the gardens. they were vast and green and meticulously tended, rows of vegetables stretching toward a horizon you hadn't expected to find here, there were potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, and many more things. A group of residents knelt in the soil, their hands dark with earth, and they looked up as you passed - smiling, always smiling - before returning to their work.
"We grow almost everything we eat," Jill said "Brother John says there's dignity in feeding yourself. He says it's the first freedom." You didn’t understand the implication behind the ‘first freedom.’ You were unsure and debated whether you should ask her.
“First freedom?” you asked. After all, you had a right to ask questions, that’s why you were here. Jill stopped walking and turned towards the camera. You noticed how she was smiling again as she was thinking of a better way to explain the meaning. And you’d be lying if you said that the fact that she was always smiling didn’t make you slightly uncomfortable.
“Brother John says that there are different freedoms. There are only a few most important ones, so you can count them.” she said crossing her arms on her chest “The first freedom is labour. We work and we contribute. The second freedom is giving the messenger of God the power to decide for ourselves. Because the outside world always demanded that we make choices, decide fast. It is tiring and it chains us to the cruel rules of this world.” The urge to roll your eyes was strong but you stopped yourself in time. You couldn’t even count how many times you have heard this ‘preaching.’
“And the messenger of God is John?” you asked looking at Jill through the camera lens. She simply nodded smiling yet again. “And what are the other freedoms?”
“Love, of course,” she said and laughed. Her laughter was so airy and bubbly that for a second you agreed with her. “We reach the peak of love through Brother John, he brings us closer to God when he makes love with us.” You were shocked and absolutely not surprised at all at the same time. This was also classic when it came to cults. However, for some reason you believed that John didn’t really let anyone near him in that way. And it almost disappointed you that it turned otherwise.
The field beyond the gardens was small but fertile, golden with late summer wheat that swayed in a breeze you hadn't noticed until you saw it move. An artificial lake, carefully dug and cleverly placed, glittered at the edge of the property. Its surface was still as glass, and a wooden dock extended a few feet into the water.
Several wooden rotundas dotted the landscape, open structures with curved benches and flowering vines climbing their supports. They looked like something from a storybook. You wondered if it all was for the show. But it also looked so natural that eventually the question disappeared on its own from your head.
The small wooden houses were clustered together, each one slightly different from its neighbour, each with a chair on the porch. “How many people live here?" you asked. "Forty seven," Jill replied with a small smile “One man lives with one woman, it’s our rule.” interesting rule, you thought. But you didn’t comment on it, moving forward. Interesting but not unusual. There were so many questions but so little answers. As it always was with cults.
And then you saw it, the church. It stood apart from the other buildings, at the end of a path lined with stones. It was quite simple, wooden, like everything else, but slightly taller. Its steeple rose toward the sky like a finger pointing somewhere you couldn't follow. Glass windows and a chapel beside it, smaller but no less beautiful, with a door that stood slightly ajar.
You stopped walking and so did Jill once she noticed. She didn't speak nor did she try to explain anything. She simply stood beside you, patient as the earth, and let your eyes and the lens of your camera explore the building. She knew that since you were a researcher, this particular piece was probably one of the most interesting ones for you, so she let you have your moment.
"Can I see inside?" you asked, and your voice came out quieter than you intended. She smiled and you could swear that her smile became even softer if that was possible. "Of course," she said "Brother John said you could go anywhere here." She didn't follow when you walked toward the chapel door. You were thankful for that because you could walk around and film in peace as much as you wanted. You pushed the door open. It swung on silent hinges, and the light inside was dim and golden and smelled of old wood and older incense. Your footsteps echoed on the floorboards. You noticed that the candles were almost completely burnt. But the place was strangely dusty and the wooden floors were sandy, dry leaves moved with the wind.
You flinched when you noticed that at the altar, head bowed, hands clasped in front of him as if in supplication stood John. He didn't turn when you entered but you immediately wanted to leave, feeling as if you were distracting and interrupting. An unwilling intruder. It was such a sacred moment, you thought.
"Don’t worry," he said, still not turning. His accent curled around the words like smoke. He stood up, dusting his knees “Satisfied?” he asked waving at your camera.
“Oh..um..” you hesitated, smiling weakly “Yeah, sure, thank you, I have a lot of material. But as you remember, I have an interview as well, with your members.” he gave a short nod, telling you that he remembered. You were thankful that your plans were not ruined. The interview was the most important part of your research.
“So, Jill,” you said as you adjusted yourself on the chair, “How long have you been living here?” John said that you could interview his residents outside, a rotunda was a great choice. You could capture the view as well, he said. And it was almost amusing how he was contributing to the situation, helpful and encouraging as always.
Jill tucked her hair behind her ears as she smiled. Again. “I have been living here for about three years. Brother John and I have met in a church. The members did not really understand his ideas, but I did. I saw true freedom and love in his teachings. He is a very intelligent and kind man. He is a true messenger of God. Like Joseph Smith, you know.” Joseph Smith, what a great comparison, you thought. A controversial person who’s teachings you find odd compared to another controversial person who’s teachings you find odd.
“In what way?” you asked her. It surprised you how hesitant she looked for a moment. Didn’t she just say that? She had to know what she meant then. It was odd how long it took for her to continue. “I mean..John is..um…” she didn’t have the time to finish because John called Jill. What a timing, you thought, as if he heard everything but how could he? He wasn’t even close enough to hear anything. Nevertheless, you nodded, letting her go.
With a sigh, you leaned back against the wood, waiting for someone else to replace Jill.
So after a few hours of interviewing you were finally done. John was the last person who asked to be interviewed. Your previous conversation left a strange, bitter taste in your mouth, however, you still were eager to talk to him again. So, you adjusted the tripod, taking a few notes in your notebook. John came just in time, sitting on the wooden bench like he owned it. Which, technically he did.
The men spreading was his habit, that’s what you noticed. He always does this, manipulative move to show his authority. He looked at you with this strange gaze that made you feel like he sees through you.
“What’ve ya got f’me this time, love?” he asked draping one arm over the wooden fence. His other hand rested on his thigh. Involuntary your eyes followed the movement which you knew he saw.
Your legs crossed as you fidgeted with your hands. “Um…so, Johnathan, I had a chance to have a conversation with your residents. They seem very happy. You have quite a discipline here.” He laughed like you said something absolutely stupid. But his response was only a simple nod.
So after a short conversation with Johnathan you didn’t really learn anything new. But it was late already so John was kind enough to give you some privacy to stay the night. You stayed in one of the small houses, which was very simple inside but nonetheless cozy. You used this opportunity to check out the material. The bed was soft and warm as you sat on it, with your camera plugged to your laptop. Luckily for you, everyone was already asleep so you had all the time in the world to look through your material.
The pictures and videos were mostly the same ones, nothing too unusual. But one video caught your attention. Jill. Your eyes squinted as you looked more intently. You noticed that when Jill was replaced with another member she went straight to John since he was the one to call her. At first it looked like they were simply talking, but something caught your eye, his grip on her arm, he jolted her, making her grimace in pain. Her entire demeanour changed as she almost shrunk into herself.
A sudden sound outside made you flinch. Your head spun towards the door. Someone was outside? At this hour? Your curiosity got the best of you, so what you did next was not something unexpected, you stood up and grabbed your phone. With all the carefulness in the world, you opened the door, pursing your lips at the sound it made. Stepping outside you turned the camera on your phone on - an instinct at this point. The sound was coming from somewhere near the field.
Slowly, you walked towards the sound, it sounded like someone was digging through the soil. As you walked, your head involuntarily moved around to make sure that nobody was around to witness you eavesdropping and spying. Your steps were slow, careful, they led you behind one of the houses, so you hid, pointing the camera towards the field.
At first you didn’t really see what exactly was happening, just someone digging. But your eyes slowly began to widen as they made out the whole picture. It was a pit, long and deep, for what? The answer to your question came almost immediately. With a quiet gasp, you covered your mouth with your hand. Oh.
The body came into view moments later, dragged from the shadows by the same man. She was limp between his arms, her bare feet scraping against the grass, her head lolling at an angle that told you everything you needed to know. You recognised her face. Jill. The realisation made your blood turn cold in an instant. She didn’t look like herself, really. It wasn’t the sunny girl you met anymore.
Strange feeling it is to see someone you were just talking this morning being thrown in a pit as if they were a sack of potatoes. Cold, blue, completely lifeless. Her eyes were open, staring somewhere in your direction, it was disturbing how you still anticipated for her to blink, or so your brain did, subconsciously. The man swung her and then she was falling, slowly, a terrible arc through the moonlight, and she landed at the bottom of the pit with a sound that would hunt you for a very long time. A wet thud, it was loud in a rather silent night, almost echoing, or maybe it was an echo in your own ears. The final punctuation of a sentence that should never have been written. But why? Why was she killed? Knowing the logic of cult leaders you also knew that she probably did something that she shouldn’t have. The digger didn't hesitate, his shovel rose and fell, rose and fell, scattering soil across her still form. Dirt covered her face, her hands. The white of her nightdress turning brown and heavy. He worked with the efficiency of someone who had done this before, someone who knew exactly how much earth it took to bury a secret.
Your camera of your phone was still recording, you felt its warmth against your fingers, its tiny red light blinking like a heartbeat, as quickly as your own heart did, but you weren't watching through the lens anymore. You were watching with your own eyes, raw and unblinking, as the woman who had called you dear sister disappeared beneath the earth.
To your very luck your foot found a twig. The snap was quite barely a sound at all, but in this silence, in this dark, it cracked like a gunshot. The man stopped in his tracks, his shovel hung in the air, suspended over the half filled grave. His head turned, slow and deliberate, toward the house you were hiding behind because the sound was coming from that place. You couldn't see his face, only the dark shape of him, the broad shoulders, the way his body had gone still as a predator catching a scent.
You pressed yourself flat against the wooden wall. “Shit.” you whispered, squeezing your eyes. Your heart was a fist pounding against your ribs, breath came shallow, too fast, too loud in your own ears. For some reason he didn’t come to check, he only waited. And you waited, too scared to immediately walk away because now, at this very moment, staying still and as quiet as possible was the only option. The seconds stretched like wire pulled too thin. Then he turned back to the pit, he was still digging, finishing what he had started, but you knew, with a cold certainty that settled in your bones like frost, that he had heard you. But it could be anyone, right? You knew that it was impossible for him to know for sure that it was you specifically, well that was something. Slowly you began to walk away, one step at a time, your back scraping against the rough wood of the house, your feet finding the ground with impossible care. You slid sideways, toward the gap between buildings, toward the cluster of small houses where your room waited. You didn't breathe until you had rounded the corner and the digging sound had faded behind you.
You walked faster, looking over your shoulder to make sure he hadn’t followed you. Your legs trembled beneath you, but you didn't stop. But you probably should have because the next thing you knew was that you bumped into something soft and solid at the same time. John stood in the path ahead of you. He was wearing a simple grey shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, his hands hung loose at his sides, face was soft, unreadable, which was nothing new, lit faintly by the moon.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked. His voice was low, gentle, wrapped in that thick British accent. You opened your mouth but closed it almost immediately. You had to make something up, make something up or get removed as an unnecessary witness.
"Y'alright?" He took a step closer. His eyes searched your face. He looked rather concerned, utterly convincing. Was he truly worried about you?
"I..uh…" Your voice cracked, so you had to clear your throat. "I’m so sorry, I thought that I didn’t even get to fully enjoy the view, I couldn’t sleep and so..” He smiled, the same way he did when you first arrived. "Come inside," he said, gesturing toward the cabin. "I'll make y'thea. Settle your nerves." You wanted (had to) to say no. You wanted to run to your car, drive away, never look back, but- Your feet followed him, they always did somehow, almost without asking you at all. And as you walked toward the cabin, you caught a glimpse of the field behind you, empty now, the digger gone, the pit smooth and still as if nothing had ever disturbed it. Your frown had gone unnoticed by John, thankfully.
His cabin was warm just like the first time. That was the first thing you noticed as you stepped inside, the way the already familiar heat wrapped around you like a blanket, like an embrace, it seems like his space was always in that state. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting amber shadows across the wooden walls. You saw a kettle sat on the stove, already steaming, as if he had known you would come.
"Sit," he said, gesturing toward the worn armchair by the fire. "Y'look like y've seen a ghost." You sat, your legs gave out beneath you. The chair swallowed you, soft and deep, and you stared at the flames without really seeing them. “No, I just…you startled me a little, didn’t expect you to be outside at such an hour.” He moved around the kitchen with quiet efficiency. The kettle whistled softly, and he poured water over the small teabag with the care of someone performing a ritual. Symbolic, you thought.
"I like to walk at night. Here," he said, pressing the warm cup into your hands. His fingers brushed yours, and lingered, just a moment. "Drink, s'good for shock." You drank, the tea was herbal, sweet, honeyed in a way that coated your throat and settled in your chest like a balm. How comforting was it, truly, like that’s exactly what you needed after what you had just witnessed, so eventually your hands stopped shaking.
John sat across from you, not in the other armchair, but on the low wooden stool at your feet, too close for your liking, but at the same time, somehow, you didn’t mind.
"Y're shaking, love," he observed, you hadn't even noticed, looking down at your hands, you still held the warm cup of tea. They were shaking, just slightly. "First night's always the hardest," he said softly. "New place, you know, new sounds. gets into y'r bones." You nodded, grateful for the excuse, he didn't ask more.
He took your hand, his thumb traced slow circles on your knuckles. "You can stay," he said quietly. "Just for tonight, let me hold y', nothin' else. I can make y'feel safe, yeah?" He rose, gently pulling you to your feet, his hand stayed wrapped around yours as he led you down the hall, past the closed doors, and into his bedroom. He decided not to close the door, leaving it open instead, just a crack. You knew that it was his nonverbal way to tell you that you could always leave any time.
"Lie down," he murmured. "I'll just hold ya." You laid on his bed, and he stretched out beside you, pulling the blanket over both of you, arm slid around your waist, drawing you close. His breath was warm against the back of your neck. You closed your eyes, letting out a tired sigh. He turned to face you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. He was like a living heater which also felt a little comforting after what you had seen. Your breathing was slightly shaky, all you could see, as your eyes were closed, was Jill’s body being thrown into the pit. You jolted, opening your eyes with a small gasp.
"Y're scared," he observed. "S'alright, s'natural. But I need y'to know somethin'." His thumb brushed your lower lip. "I've watched y'for very closely, the way y'hold y'rself, the way y'look at me when y'think I'm not payin' attention." You opened your mouth to deny it. He pressed his thumb gently against your lips, silencing you. "Don't," he murmured. "I know how scary these remote places can be. These communities.”
You couldn’t deny the fact that he was telling the truth, despite yourself, he was fascinating you. His mind games, his demeanor, everything about him was interesting. Although he was a very typical cult leader, there was still something about him that made you want to dig deeper.
“Ain’t ya a smart girl? Came t’do ya research.” he said, rubbing your head. “Saw somethin’ haven’t ya? Curious girl.” at his words, your mouth opened as you shook your head. Did he know? “No, I..I couldn’t sleep and I..” he shushed you quietly, giving you another few comforting nods. “My people would also see a lot at the beginnin’, love. S’a forest and a field.” Oh. So he thought that you probably heard or saw an animal or something in the woods that were nearby that shook you so much. How odd. You squeezed your eyes for a moment, feeling sudden dizziness.
“Did ya like the tea?” he asked so quietly. His hand moved to your waist, dragging his hand under your shirt. “Relaxing, aye?” You felt that it was way too relaxing. Did he put something in it? You couldn’t tell but your body was very relaxed and almost tired, for a moment you forgot everything that you saw and all you could feel were his hands on your body. He carefully pushed you onto your back, hovering over. John’s arms dragged up and down over your own, as he straddled your hips. “Gonna help m’little film girl.” he said, moving his hand to the front of your shirt. A small gasp left you as he tore your shirt into half.
You didn’t protest because you felt too tired to do it and because his hands were very warm and distracting. Now the visions of Jill disappeared altogether. “Right, relax, love, m’gonna take care of ya.” His words were so soft, as soft as his hands that moved under the cups of your bra. He kneaded your breasts like plushies, grumbling something under his breath. Your eyes closed at the feeling, not registering a soft, whining sound that escaped your mouth. Your mind did not acknowledge the fact that all of this was wrong, that you shouldn’t be laying here in his bed. But the shock lingered, all of your plans disappeared by the horrific image of a body being buried right under everyone’s noses.
Your back arched lazily as your weak arms sprayed above your head, while John continued. His hands then moved to your jeans, pulling them down with that ease that it felt like pulling the clothes off of a barbie doll. With each touch of his hands, your mind turned off even more. John spread your legs carefully with his knee, pushing it right into your core, his action elicited another moan from your mouth. He did it a few times before he felt the wetness through your panties. You opened your eyes, looking at his hands that were dragging them down your legs. Next thing you knew were his finger on your cunt that were spreading that wetness. They felt soft, gentle, he didn’t want to rush things.
“M’girl feels uncomfortable ‘ere. A cult, she says.” he said, laughing quietly. His voice was raspy as always, low and warm, he wasn’t mocking. Or maybe he was, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t care because all you cared about were his long, thick fingers that were slowly intruding into your cunt and mind. They moved slowly, savoring the feeling of wetness and warmth. He hissed at the thick juices that were coating his fingers more and more. For some unknown to you reason they felt too perfect inside, replacing every anxious thoughts, questions, deadlines, murders. Only John was left in your head and cunt.
“We’re not a cult, dovie,” he mumbled “We’re a home.” he unbuttoned his shirt with a free hand, tossing it aside. He didn’t have the patience to pull his jeans off, taking his half hard cock out instead. “And ya skin’ such a good job. Makin’ ya little movie ‘bout us.” John’s hand moved over your stomach, rubbing it slowly. He moved it to your legs, lifting the limbs easily with one hand. He held them at the ankles. Your eyes lifted, squinting at the light as they gazed at your legs, your vision was foggy but you didn’t care.
“Mmmm” you hummed lazily, frowning at the heaviness in your limbs. John kissed the back of your thigh, moving lower until he reached the place he wanted. Placing a few sloppy kisses to your core, he licked his wet lips, humming in satisfaction. “Delightful.” he mumbled, as he positioned the thick head of his cock against your entrance. He was thick, a little too big but he didn’t care, neither did you, the wetness only made it easier for him to slip inside. Another hiss left John’s lips at the tightness.
“M’girls ain’t that tight anymore.” he sighed, moving slowly, in and out of you. He draped your legs over his shoulder, hugging them with one arm. And in that moment, in your eyes, John Price looked huge. Illuminated by the fire behind him, it outlined him, making his form almost glow. He rubbed your legs, fastening his rhythmic thrusts only slightly.
His gaze was almost curious, the way he squinted his eyes to get a better look at you. What was he thinking about?
You found out shortly when he reached for the bedside table. Soon, his face was replaced by an old-looking polaroid camera that was pointing at you. It was wrong, disgusting even, but could your mind register anything at this point? Aside from Kohn and the immense pleasure he was giving you - nothing. The room then filled up with the sound of a shutter as John took a picture, it was almost amusing to you how he didn’t even stutter in his thrusts for once while doing all of that. Too practiced, your foggy mind thought. But you didn’t have time to think about that deeply because John’s strong hands pushed your legs above your head, filling you up even deeper from that angle. With that your tired hands found his arms, draping over them lazily. With that he fastened his pace even more, fucking you deep into the mattress. The sleepiness was taking over you more and more each second, and something was telling you that you wouldn’t remember anything soon.
The morning was quiet, calm when your eyes opened slowly as you began to finally waking up. The tiredness lingered still, making your body feel like it weighed a ton. John’s bedroom felt as warm as ever, but you acknowledged the fact that you were there, after all the memories of Jill and John leading you to his cabin were clear. You couldn’t remember anything past the tea, maybe you fell asleep? The question lingered in your mind as you sat up, you were alone in the room, that’s what you’d noticed first, your hand touched your forehead as the annoying pulsation of headache began nagging. Slowly, you managed to get up and look around, the room was spacious and simple, exactly what you’d expect John to have. It was a great chance for you to get nosy and see what he could be hiding behind closed doors of his bedroom.
You knew that you could find something that would be useful for your movie and research, so the first thing that you decided to look at was his table. It was a mess, covered in papers, documents, folders. There was nothing interesting about it, but the drawers. Oh, there you would definitely find something interesting. To your disappointment the first drawer was empty. The second had a few unopened letters and nothing else. But the third drawer caught your attention. It was empty and you wanted to close it but you heard a strange sound, as if something was inside but how if it was empty? You moved it once again, forward just slightly and it hit you, double bottom. Something was moving inside and created a sound.
You slid the wooden board forward, snapping your fingers as you nodded. Bingo. There you a few folded papers and a small, yellow envelope, it looked quite puffy, money? Probably, you wouldn’t know unless you looked. So that’s what you did. Standing up on your slightly wobbly legs, you opened the envelope, finding a pile of polaroids. They weren’t anything special, just pictures of each of the members. Karen, a girl who volunteered for an interview, Ben, that helped you set your tripod, a few other faces and- Jill. It was painful to see her face and the memories of yesterday’s events still lingered like vines around your heart. Piercing the vulnerable organ making it bleed at the thought that the young, beautiful woman was buried in somewhere in the field.
The more you looked at the picture and Jill’s face, the more the feeling that you’d seen her face before was nagging. Again. You knew her. You decided to keep the picture, sliding it into your back pocket. Something told you to keep looking, you followed your intuition, looking through the papers that were in the drawer. Those weren’t just any papers, you found, those were a mission persons reports, mostly women, approximately the same age, but nothing else was in common. One report was more interesting, a woman named Jane Devine, twenty years old, short hair, blue eyes and a freckled face. Ironically, she also looked familiar, too familiar, maybe..You pulled Jill’s polaroid from your pocket, holding it beside the report and finally every puzzle fell into place. Maybe, after all, you should stay here longer?
- a.n. finally it’s here! very long, so i hope you like it! side note, i decided to add a few more tags due to the change in the plot. plot twists are coming in the next chapter, hehe. if anyone else wishes to be on the taglist just tell me 🦢
taglist: @apodyopsisphilia @rad4bean @sh1mosh1 @pupcor3
