Now RoseMarie sprang into action. Brian startled at the sudden movement and as soon as RoseMarie gained her feet, she was running, having to reach out and touch the ground a few times as she stumbled. She hurtled over one of the stumps and Brian took off after her.
He didn't have any intentions of harming her. But she heard that he was one of that thing's servants, and her mind was screaming that he was the one who trampled Ms. Savannah's flowers. He was the one moving things in her house. He was the one leaving fortune cookies with messages that struck ominous.
Brian caught up to RoseMarie, though he gave her credit, she was fast. Horrible sense of direction, though, she was running further into the woods. He caught her around the waist and she thrashed against him, not ready to stop yet. Brian held tight and made some shushing noises as he pulled her closer.
RoseMarie stopped fighting against him and he relaxed a little. Then she stamped his foot with the heel of her sneaker, and he lost grip of her.
"Dammit, RoseMarie, stop! You're not even going the right way!"
RoseMarie kept running a few more feet, but as soon as the words registered, she stopped. She turned and the gap in the trees above them lit up her form. She was breathing hard, her green eyes narrowed as she looked at him. Some leaves were caught in her long chestnut hair and she'd splashed some mud up on her black pants and hoodie. The look in her eyes was a little feral and Brian thought he was a pretty fucked up guy to think she looked beautiful right now.
"I talked" Brian said, shuffling his feet to shake off the pain in the top of his stamped foot "You wanted me to talk, and I did. Are you ready to listen?"
RoseMarie swallowed, forcing back the torrent of questions she wanted to ask, the accusations she wanted to make.
Brian took the silence as a sign to proceed.
"Like I said, I'm a servant of that thing. We call it the Tall Man but it has so many other names. But it didn't send me to mess with you. I think it noticed you because of me. It's messing with me, and using you to do it."
"How would it know about me, just from knowing you?" RoseMarie stammered, trying her hardest to absorb Brian's words.
"It reads minds. It can go into a mind and rifle through it like a Rolodex, cherry picking memories and beliefs as it goes" Brian said.
"So what now? I end up being driven crazy? Go around helping some kind of horror scare other people as it scares me? No. I won't do it."
Brian made a tsking sound, "It doesn't work like that. The most you can do is hope it forgets about you, but if you've already seen it... It's a little late for that."
A cold feeling settled in on RoseMarie. That was it? She didn't even know she had been prey to something, and now it had her, and that's that?
Brian saw the realization sink in for RoseMarie and his heart broke for her. He'd been there himself, longer now than he'd like to admit.
"We're trying to figure out a way to stop it" he stated evenly.
RoseMarie nodded like she didn't believe him and walked forward until she stood even with Brian.
"I want to go home, Brian" she said, dully.
Brian shook his head, regretting already what he was about to say.
"I can't let you do that." Brian immediately realized how threatening that sounded. "I can't let you go back knowing it sent someone and they got inside your house. Left things."
RoseMarie nodded numbly. Brian looked at her and was trying to decide if she was going to pass out or not. He didn't worry about her running anymore. The fight had left her.
"You'll have to come stay with us."
"Us?"
Brian nodded, "I'll see you through this."
He put his hand on RoseMarie's middle back and using it to propel her back towards the holler. She went at his urging and they picked their way back through the holler and the trail leading to Brian's truck.
He was honestly dreading this. His "roommates" weren't exactly the savory type. One could best be described as 'prickly' and the other two 'feral'. Once in the truck, he put music on as soon as he got the engine started, probably to soothe himself as much as he was trying to soothe RoseMarie.
He put the truck in reverse and backed out of the pull in. As the tires found smooth asphalt, Brian felt RoseMarie lean her head against his arm. He focused his eyes on the beam of the headlights and headed back to the complex.
RoseMarie wasn't sure if going with Brian was such a good idea. He immediately turned out from the apartment complex, heading towards the dense woods that bordered town on the North side. Suddenly, all those stories about women finding themselves dead in the woods surfaced in her mind.
She told herself if things got too squicky, she would barrel roll.
Unfortunately, Brian was driving at a decent clip, finding straight lines to cut through the sharp curves of the winding roads. To its credit, the old white Toyota truck handled perfectly, like an extension of Brian himself.
RoseMarie kept quiet, resisting the urge to question Brian. She concentrated on making it to a point in time where she could be stationary, have more opportunities.
Finally, Brian brought the truck to a stop in a gravel pull-off from the twisting road. He paused for a moment before covering RoseMarie's hands, which were busy fiddling with the ends of her light jacket.
"Please, just... Trust me" he murmured, and then he killed the engine after giving her hands what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.
Maybe it was that squeeze. Maybe it was the resigned but desperate look that knitted Brian's brow. But RoseMarie followed him out of the truck and down the canopied gravel trail. Random carvings decorated the trees surrounding them, and fetishes hung from branches.
They walked for a few minutes, long enough to not be able to see the utility lights from surrounding homes. Finally they reached a holler in the woods. Scattered about the holler were various places where a person could sit; wooden boxes, car seats, stumps, buckets, all situated at various points around a central metal barrel for a fire pit.
Brian went immediately to the barrel, producing a lighter from his pocket, to go with the cigarettes he was "trying to quit". He quickly started a fire, having no struggle at all. It wasn't a big fire, but it was enough to chase shadows out of the immediate area, as well as the chill that permeated on early summer nights like this.
Brian motioned to the bench seat right in front of the fire and RoseMarie obliged by sitting, albeit, keeping her body tensed to make a quick getaway if need be. Brian settled next to her with a sigh, leaving a little room between them so as to not make RoseMarie more nervous than she already was.
"Sorry for all the mystery" Brian apologized, "I couldn't really talk openly there, this is the only safe place around."
"Safe?" RoseMarie replied like she was mulling the word over in her head, "Safe from what? What's going on?"
Brian clenched his jaw and then let a long breath out. He was struggling to find the correct words to use so RoseMarie didn't think he was stark raving mad. But he was, because he didn't kid himself with the thought that any sane person wouldn't hear what he was about to say as the ravings of a madman.
"God, you're going to think I'm crazy" Brian stated blandly, like he'd already accepted the idea. "There are things out there. Things most people can't see. Occasionally, someone might catch a glimpse out of the corner of their eye, something unnatural, something terrifying" RoseMarie was already starting to lean away "Most people go their whole lives never seeing anything, and that's fine, all the better. But sometimes those things make someone see them. It seeks them out. And the fear it causes gives it more shape, makes it more real. Have you seen anything like that?"
RoseMarie immediately replied "Nope, not a single-" but then she paused. There had been something, something recent. A few weeks ago, a clap of thunder had awoken RoseMarie in the night, one of those sudden jerks from slumber that found you sitting stock straight up in bed, blinking confusedly into the darkness. Lightning had followed a few moments later, lighting up the covered window across from RoseMarie's bed. Silhouetted against the light, she had seen a figure, tall and then, gnarled like a tree. Tendrils came from everywhere on its body, writhing and squirming like tentacles. RoseMarie's mind rebelled against it, refusing to make sense of it, and she squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, it was gone, just the markings of rain hitting the window outside. "I saw a shape that looked like a man, but also like a tree. If a tree could have tentacles. It was storming and the lightning lit it up against my blinds" she shook her head, "I probably half dreamed it. Thunder woke me up."
Brian looked like he'd stuck his tongue to something rotten. His face paled a little before he regained his composure and the thin, hard line of his mouth. "That's what I was afraid of" Brian turned away suddenly, hitting his knee with an open palm and then running his hair through his already messy hair. He continued the motion, rubbing at his face like he was trying to sand it off with his palms.
"Brian" RoseMarie intoned. She was tired. She was scared. She was in an unfamiliar place with a technically unfamiliar person, and she was talking about her home life. RoseMarie was feeling very vulnerable and she was tired of Brian's shit. "Either tell me what's going on right now, or I'm walking. I'll find my own way back and you can stay here and decide if you want to tell me what's happening or not."
Brian stared hard at RoseMarie for more than a few moments. Like he was trying to decide if she was serious or not. The silence was deafening and RoseMarie realized she could hear no nightlife. No road noise. Nothing.
Brian sighed and that defeated look came over his face again. "Okay. Okay! Fuck! There's a thing out there that looks exactly like the figure you saw in your window. It's super powerful and it lives off fear and torment. It picks people that are strong enough to give it a steady supply of food without going completely insane. It makes them do things they don't want to but feel like they have to, or lose themselves, like indentured servants."
RoseMarie was doubtful when Brian started talking. She thought he had gone completely insane. But the more he spoke, the more conviction entered his voice and the more she started to believe. Brian stopped for a second, gathering himself and RoseMarie tensed, unsure what was going to happen next.
"I know that's what you're seeing because I'm one of those servants."
RoseMarie did see Brian again, in fact, two days later as they walked past each other between two buildings. RoseMarie was laden down with her cleaning kit, including but not limited to: a duffle bag full of cleaners, brushes, sponges and other implements, the large tote of rags, a mop and bucket, and a vacuum cleaner. Immediately, Brian was approaching, hands open, ready to receive part of the gear.
"Hey, remember me?" he asked as RoseMarie pulled up short in front of him. She had been moving with purpose. Brian admired her determination.
RoseMarie looked up at him, the sun catching in her swamp green eyes, and once again dazzling Brian. She didn't see this time, and Brian played it off cool as RoseMarie confirmed that yes, she did remember him, even by name.
"Can I help you carry some of that" he asked. RoseMarie studied Brian, taking in his athletic build. He was wearing a plain white tee shirt and jeans. Arms that were defined and well toned showed from beneath the short sleeves, muscles that only came from climbing or serious lifting. Brian didn't seem the type for either but what did RoseMarie know? She'd only met him two days ago and talked for a few minutes.
He gave her a smile, radiant in its boyishness, and RoseMarie felt herself caving. She'd learned to exercise caution around men, specifically charming men like Brian. But the sense of ease that came over her made it hard.
"I guess you can take the bag" RoseMarie relented before he wasted any more of his smiles on her. She would let him be nice, but not get comfortable. And he definitely wasn't walking her to unit 423, where she was assigned today. He could walk with her to the landing and she'd take it from there.
Brian happily took the bag and also the vacuum. They walked together, making small talk about the day, and a little about themselves, thanks to RoseMarie.
"So what do you do for work?" she asked as they rounded the corner between the ground and second floors.
"Surveillance" Brian replied, keeping tight lipped about anything more.
RoseMarie picked up on that and switched to music. She had fallen back into a band she barely remembered from childhood, and wasn't sure how she'd made it so long without them. Surprisingly, Brian also knew them and even more surprisingly, was a fan as well. They fell into an easy rhythm that left RoseMarie wanting when she separated from him at the landing for the fourth floor. She hoped to run into him again.
And they had more of these encounters, almost every day.
Brian was always more than happy to talk for a while, helping RoseMarie carry her things to the landing of whatever apartment she was cleaning. They talked about a wide range of things from social issues of the country to childhood stories.
RoseMarie had began to notice that when Brian got impassioned about a subject, he didn't speak. He testified. This led her to jokingly call him Preacher when she was picking at him. However, RoseMarie couldn't shake the feeling he was hiding something about himself.
Despite this, a level of comfort was reached where RoseMarie allowed Brian to walk her at first to the apartment she was cleaning, then inside to keep her company. This led to him helping her clean, and one instance in which she had to shove him in a closet to avoid being caught by management. They'd both laughed long and hard over that when it was over, but during the incident, RoseMarie felt like her heart was about to leap out of her mouth and run away across the floor.
Weeks turned into months and RoseMarie noticed a shift. Not with Brian, though she could feel something blossoming there. No, this shift was in RoseMarie's personal life.
Things were moving around at her house. She rented a small one bedroom from a delightful old lady who needed the extra income. Flowers were trampled down, objects moved inside the house, objects left outside of it. A slider puzzle. A rock with a red stain. A book that had been soaked in water so much the pages were illegible and sticking together, the cover torn away. Fortune cookies with ominous fortunes. 'Your problem just got bigger, think what have you done?' 'If it seems the fates are against you today, they probably are' and the worst, 'Trust him but still keep your eyes open'.
RoseMarie and Brian themselves were doing fine, getting closer, and developing a bond that bordered friendly. The 'trust him' fortune cookie had sent RoseMarie into a mental tizzy for days, causing her to watch Brian with a hawk like precision.
One day, Brian noticed dark circles under RoseMarie's eyes. She kept zoning out and he had to keep bringing her attention back to their conversation and their work.
"RoseMarie, are you okay" he asked after the umpteenth time she had zoned out.
RoseMarie snapped to attention, resuming her scrubbing on the shower walls while Brian stood on the bathroom counter, cleaning the mirror. He watched her intently in the mirror's reflection as she answered.
"I really don't know" she said "things are weird at home. I keep finding things moved that I put in the same spot every time. My photo box was off the shelf when I went home yesterday and I haven't looked at it in months. The flowers in the front were trampled down and there's not a path next to them. I'm finding things too. Things that aren't mine."
"Things like what?"
"Like one of those little slide puzzles I used to play with as a kid. I solved it and it's just a forest scene. I found a rock that had a red stain on it on my windowsill for my bedroom, on the outside, so the red stain was facing in. One time I found this waterlogged book, sitting right on my coffee table like it belonged there. The cover is missing and the ink has ran so bad I can't read any of it except a few words. I think it was about floods. I keep seeing Noah and Ark. Oh and fortune cookies!"
"Fortune cookies?" Brian asked, his brow cocking. He had a playful smile on, showing the slight gap between his front top teeth, "What do they say?"
RoseMarie sighed as she moved to a new wall in the shower, starting from the top and moving down, making tight circles with the foam scrubber shed found worked best. This apartment wasn't bad, just a quick touch up, an hour tops with Brian's help.
"One said something about if I felt like everything was against me, then it probably is. Another said "trust him, but keep your eyes open". The last said something about my problems getting bigger, and asking what I'd done."
Brian's lips thinned down to a hard line. Clearly he wasn't happy with the fortunes RoseMarie had been given. They finished the clean in silence, and RoseMarie could tell Brian was in deep thought.
When they finished, instead of walking RoseMarie to her car, Brian took her in the opposite direction, paying no mind to the protests RoseMarie was throwing at him about her car being the other way.
"Look I know you don't know me very well" Brian finally said, turning to RoseMarie as fast as he could with the weight of half of her gear. "But I need to take you somewhere to talk. I have answers for you, not a lot of them, but I can't give them to you here."
RoseMarie felt a chill pass over her. Brian's aura had changed. Whereas he was normally relaxed, at ease, he was now wound tight, anxious, and, if she was honest, a little cold. This new Brian shook her, even though it shouldn't have bothered her. He was right. She barely knew him.
But he said he had answers. And she was inclined to believe him.
So reluctantly, RoseMarie let Brian lead her to his old, beat up, white Toyota truck. She got inside and hoped she wasn't making a mistake. Brian was only hoping it wasn't too late.
RoseMarie scoffed as she threw another rag into the bag she'd designated for them. "Four hours my ass" she muttered as she shook out a fresh one from the tote she had stuffed full of every cleaning rag she owned and then some borrowed from a coworker. She bent down and checked her cleaners, hoping the small amounts left in these bottles would make it through this clean.
RoseMarie Ladd was a jack of all trades, but for now, her expertise laid in cleaning. She'd taken a job out of desperation, cleaning apartments that had recently become vacated for a few complexes around town, plus the rich clientele that her boss went to church with. She'd always suspected her boss didn't check the places she cleaned before assigning a time window, and today was proof. The apartment she was cleaning was a two bedroom, two bath, with a laundry room, kitchen, and largish living area. It was on the third floor. Her gear weighed at least fifty pounds and she still had to carry it back down. But only after... This.
Normally the apartments RoseMarie was assigned to clean weren't that bad. A slightly dirty tub, pet hair in the carpets, dusty blinds, dirty floors, and some cobwebs. This apartment however, took the cake. Whoever had lived here had been here years and not taken particular care in housekeeping, as well as an owner of multiple cats.
RoseMarie's eyes slid to her trash bag, already near full. She'd only cleaned out one bedroom, one bathroom, and half the kitchen. She dreaded the trek down the stairs, but she also needed fresh air on her skin. Four hours was enough, time for a break. She needed to see something besides clumps of cat hair and years worth of shower scum.
RoseMarie lugged that trash bag down the stairs, muttering to herself the whole way. She pushed out the doors and fresh, warm air hit her face. She dropped the bag at her feet and stretched her shoulders and back before picking it up, Santa style, and continuing to the dumpsters.
Throwing the bag in was like what RoseMarie imagined throwing a dead body would be like. She had to heave it in and hope the bottom cleared the top of the dumpster. As it landed, RoseMarie clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to get the ache of hours of scrubbing plus carrying a heavy load to leave them. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she ran straight into a solid, warm chest.
"Sorry!" RoseMarie sputtered, reeling back to look at the person she'd just collided with.
He was in his mid twenties, within a few years of RoseMarie's twenty three. He looked like your every day guy, with naturally messy brown hair, just starting to curl at the ends. His jaw was square, but in a soft way, and his chin prominent but rounded, also softly. His cheekbones sat neither high or low, and there was a youthful fullness to his face. His brow sat over his eyes, but not overly so, letting his hazel eyes look out calmly. A gentle smile graced his thin lips, a little asymmetrical, but its wideness made his eyes crinkle at the corners. Wisps of a moustache tickled his upper lip, the same sandy brown as his hair.
"Are you okay?" he asked. His voice was medium low, and as relaxed as the smile on his face. "You seem stressed."
"I'm not-" RoseMarie started and then sighed "Yeah... Sorry, just... One of your neighbors was pretty dirty. I'm assuming you live here, right?"
The guy looked down at the trash bag in his hand, and then hauled it over the edge of the dumpster "Yeah, I guess, haven't been here long. Sorry about the dirty neighbor."
"It's a nice place" RoseMarie continued, feeling comfortable around this guy somehow, even as alarm bells were ringing in her head "I clean for here and a few other complexes around. This one is my favorite of the three. Quiet, good quality apartments, fair managers."
"Good to know" he said "I'm Brian, by the way."
"RoseMarie" she replied.
"My grandmother's name was Rose" he said, eyes going distant as some memory played in his eyes. After a moments silence, he shook himself and trained his eyes on RoseMarie again, "Anyway, what are you stressed about? Those words you were muttering kind of reminded me of Grandma Rose, too. She was a spitfire."
RoseMarie chuckled, albiet in an awkward way. She hasn't realized her mutterings had gotten so loud. She was just so frustrated with this clean, and she told Brian so. "It's just my boss. She accepts these cleans but never comes to see them. She gave me four hours to clean this place, I'm only a quarter done."
"Sounds like she'll just have to deal with it" Brian said after a little thought "You can only do what you can, anything more would be asking for miracles, wouldn't it?"
RoseMarie nodded " I know you're right. But she's like a spoiled child, no concept of what the reality of the situation is. Just expectations."
"I know the feeling" Brian said, sounding somewhat forelorn "But you'll get through it. And your paycheck will look pretty good by the end of it, too."
RoseMarie laughed outright then, "That is true. This one clean should bring in a pretty penny. I just wish I could get excited about it now. But, thank you, Brian, for the pep talk." She smiled then, and Brian looked dazzled for a second before regaining composure.
"No problem at all" he replied, knowing RoseMarie was looking for a way to return to work. "Maybe I'll see you around next time you clean."
"Yeah, maybe" RoseMarie said, already turning away. However, she turned back, a head over her shoulder, "Thanks again, Brian."
RoseMarie returned to her apartment to finish cleaning. She'd work well into the night. A few times, her mind would wander to Brian and the intrigue she felt coming from him. Then she would push it aside and continue working, only ready to collapse into bed.
Brian walked away a few moments after RoseMarie went inside the apartment building. The only thing that was on his mind was that he was in trouble.
Plans are being made, budgeting is being done. Turns out I had two devils on my shoulder, one named Matt and one named Dan. They're hard to ignore. @blinkmustdi3 can we survive the pit in our old age?
Plans are being made, budgeting is being done. Turns out I had two devils on my shoulder, one named Matt and one named Dan. They're hard to ignore. @blinkmustdi3 can we survive the pit in our old age?
