Hello and welcome to my depraved little corner of tumblr. Here I write for a variety of slasher and horror characters. Primarily will be featuring drabbles with the occasional longer piece. Headcanons will feature from time to time
At the time I do NOT consent for my work to be translated or posted anywhere else.
Below you will find some more information on who and what I write.
MINORS DNI. Due to the nature of these characters and potential content, only 18 and older are allowed.
Author's Notes: A small sequel to Blood Magic. This one is sort of leading me to where it wants to go and I haven't discovered exactly where that is just yet. As always, likes are appreciated but comments and reblogs keep the muses fed and the writing coming.
One week. It had been one long, tiring, confusing week at the old Myers house. She wasn't sure what to make of it all, having gotten beyond the initial, instinctual fear that had borrowed deep within her chest upon realizing exactly what had happened. That didn't sort out what was going to happen though, and the fear had given way to confusion, thoughtfulness, some anger, and planning. Soul magic was powerful. The sort that couldn't easily be undone and the sort that ran deep.
It was felt like a second heartbeat in a way. Though, maybe she was just more in tune to it because of what she practiced and what she had done already. It was clear that Michael had felt something despite that thought. It was more than just the confusion that he felt over his inability to kill her. Or, what she thought was confusion given that he didn't speak and didn't give too much indication of any sort of emotion. His presence was stifling. Constantly around, lingering and looming. On those rare occasions that she thought that she had a moment to herself, where maybe she could look around or potentially even sneak out, she barely made it out of the room before he appeared. His posture rigid, breathing hard, and looming overhead in an intimidation tactic. While he didn't seem capable of harming her thanks to the disrupted ritual, that didn't mean he couldn't manhandle her and keep her there from a physical standpoint. He was a mountain of a man. Taller, heavier, stronger than she was. And with her limited access to anything that could have been useful for some magic, she was at a loss and stuck.
She had lost count of the times that he had picked her up and hauled her back to the room that he had deemed her residence. Almost to the point that she had become accustom to the shape of his hand as it pressed to her body. He had no boundaries but she supposed that shouldn't have been surprisingly. She only knew the stories but the rage that could be felt, shared between them was an indication that perhaps those stories weren't all that far off.
The problem after a week? The infection that was raging in the wound on her hand. She had thought that maybe, just maybe she had gotten lucky after two days and nothing has shown. There hadn't been any way to disinfect the wound with the way that Michael had hauled her off. The wrap that she had found was equally as bad but she had felt it better than leaving it exposed.
On the third day, the skin around the wound appeared far more angry, bright red extending outward to cover almost her entire palm and more sensitive to the touch. The pain had begun to worsen instead of ease. She knew that she was in trouble. On the fourth day, that was when a discharge had begun to appear and there were shivers that wracked her body.
Now, she felt like she could barely move. The fever, the pain, the nausea, it all was rolling over in crashing waves and left her curled up in a ball in the small room. She couldn't think straight or worry about the fact that Michael had been standing at the door for the better part of an hour. There was a hint of that anger that lay just below the surface, something he had recognized as belonging to him.
"Either leave me alone or toss me out to the curb," she mumbled, cracking eyes open to see the man in question. Unless she got treatment, there was a good chance that she would die in the abandoned, dilapidated house. Curling up tighter in an attempt to fight the chills that were hitting her nonstop, she clutched her hand close to her chest in order to protect it the best that she could. The closer to the body, the less chance of accidental smacking it. Groaning softly, she closed her eyes tighter and tried not to move anymore, least the headache that was starting and the nausea felt worse. Heaviness invaded her body, the sort that signaled sleep was coming. She gave in, not fighting it like she had the last few days.
**********
A sharp sting to her arm. The gentle murmurs of voices surrounding her. An odd taste in her mouth. All of these things hit her senses at once. The moldy smell of the house wasn't there. It took an extreme effort to open her eyes, something that was instantly regretted as white lights filled her vision. Groaning, she tried to raise her hand, only to it immobilized. Then came the sense of the firm mattress and the steady hum. A heartrate monitor. She wasn't at the Myers house any longer. A hospital? How the hell did she end up here?
"Glad to see you awake," a kind voice started. "We were starting to get worried." She blinked, trying to clear her vision. Her chest felt tight, the rage that had been present for the last few days still present but lingering a little further back. Once she was more coherent, with the doctor asking some basic questions to ensure she truly was aware of the situation, he began to explain what was happening and what had happened. They had been worried that she was getting ready to slip into a coma, the infection not only effecting the bone but also seeping into her bloodstream, causing sepsis. She had been in the hospital for five days. Five days of being entirely unaware and unresponsive. She had been found in a heap outside of the ER entrance, with no information and no indication of what happened besides the infected wound on her hand.
She had been treated as a Jane Doe, while waiting to see if she would wake up and provide more context. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to give them all that much and the answers that she gave weren't taken seriously. Michael Myers leaving someone alive? Unheard of. Not to mention, she wasn't about to tell them about the magic. They would think her crazy. As it was, they chalked up to hallucinations caused by the fever and the infection. Apparently, not an unusual side effect of such things.
As the doctor left, she flopped her head back against the pillow, thinking over the odd week that she had since attempting her usual ritual.
Michael had brought her to the hospital? If some good Samaritan had found her outside the Myers house, surely they would have at least given some indication of where she had been found to the hospital. They wouldn't have just dumped her like in some old mob movie.
They were bound. There would be no getting rid of the man. She knew he would be right back to stalking her as soon as she was out of the hospital. Letting her die would have been easier for him. So why the hospital and why the help? Exhaustion pulled her under before she was able to give it much more thought. As if any actions of the masked killer would make sense anyway.
Warning: Death, jealousy, cannibalism, werewolves. Everything in this series is likely some sort of trigger?
Author's Note: Part four of Monsters in Plain Sight. Thanks to @tinalbion for allowing me to tease this idea and play it in a few different ways before it ultimately settled like this. And huge thanks to @warriorqueen1991 for reading to assure me that it wasn't as choppy as it felt. As always, likes are appreciated, but comments and reblogs are what keep the muses fed and the writing coming.
The moon hung low in the darkness, hovering just above the horizon. Seemingly like a vast expanse waiting to be explore. It provided more light than was typical, glowing over the arid land that was the middle of nowhere Texas. Few would truly appreciate it's beauty the way that it deserved. And that was okay. Becuase they didn't need to. They just needed to be out and about, stumbling through the barely lit landscape. Be it through drunken revery. Or some misguided attempt to connect with nature. Really, any reason that drew they out was good enough for you. With keen night vision, visibility was hardly ever a problem for you, though if they could see better, it meant that they could see you coming. So, it presented a different sort of challenge for any hunt. You had to be more aware. A little more stealth was required. Not that such things bothered you, in fact, it presented a little more of a challenge and therefore was just a little more fun. The bright, soft light gave hunting a more ethereal feeling, bringing you that much closer to the vast world around you, less human. The guardian of the night was ever the watchful presence and on nights like tonight, she never felt closer and more powerful. A cascade of howls echoed through the flatland, a predatory joyous sound that echoed doom for some poor, unfortunate soul.
Screams soon mingled, desperate sounds that were doomed to go unanswered. Frenzied growls and snarls could be heard for several long moments before the near dead silence took over once more. Only those closest to the scene of the slaughter could hear the crunch of bones and wet sounds of flesh being torn. Meaning no living soul heard a thing.
A good hunt was deeply satisfying in a way that was almost impossible to put into words. Perhaps that was part of the reason that it had been easier for you to allow yourself to get closer to the Firefly family. Not only were they predators like you, not only were they killers, they understood the urge and the feeling that came with the kill itself. They understood the need for it. Foxy wasn't any different from the rest of his family, even if his overall demeanor was more calm, maybe even what could be classified as more relaxed and humorous. He had slotted into routine nearly effortlessly. As if he had been there the whole time. It had only taken him a few weeks to be able to adjust, to understand, to adapt. He was able to learn quick and get the hang of things with a speed that you hadn't fully expected but maybe should not have been surprised to see. He belonged to the family and had proved it on that first hunt that you had taken together. Embracing the instincts and the demands of the beast was far easierwhen it had come natural most of one's life anyway.
The two of you ran and moved together on a runt like a well oiled machine. As if you had been part of the same pack for years rather than you teaching him as a new wolf. If you hadn't already been integrated into the pack and accepted the Fireflys as your own, with a similar ease in finding a routine, it may have given you pause and brought up far more worry and concern. Evenings like this just felt natural and like it was meant to be. A very extension of your own being. Pieces simply fell into place. A deep sense of comfort and belonging. Your family. Your pack.
The hunt was over and you were making your way back to the house. Foxy was being a shit, as he often was. The sharp sting came each time that he nipped at your flanks and haunches. An annoying habit that he loved to use to get a reaction out of you. The occasional growlstipped from you and with each approach he made, you met it with a half-hearted swipe. Your claws would catch his snout every so often, retaliation for his teeth catching your flesh. No true damage done on either end, a clear show that it was all play between the both of you. Live a pair of siblings that knew where the line was and where it could not be crossed. There was no need to cause some injury that was genuine or take a little time to heal. You weren't far from the house when Foxy became a tad more insistent in his actions. A particularly hard nip actually buckled your legand caused you to turn and tackle him without any warning. Sure, playing was one thing but there was that line. Some excess energy too. It was easier to workout now, in this method, than at thehouse. Each play fight also benefitted Foxy. It taught him how to use his body, his strength, his weapons against another wolf. The chances of you coming across another wolf was slim. But, when he went back out on the road the possibility was higher than he assumed.
Not to mention, the surprised sound that came of the still newly minted wolf was well worth it and any light injury that could come. Instantly, they were tumbling and rolling around in the dust like a set of pups. Inhuman snarls and growls filled the air once more. Vicious sounds that gurley caught the attention of whoever was may have been in the front of the house. Hardly a concern. Your focus was on ensuring Foxy learned a lesson and did not get the chance to act smug because he got one over on you. With a quick motion, you had him by the scruff of his neck. There was just enough pressure to get him to pause. You thought he was about to admit defeat. Instead, he swiped out and shook, attempting to toss you forward. That was something that was entirely unexpected and you lost your balance. A fact that he used to his advantage and twisted out of the hold that you had on him. The movement was faster than anticipated and your own momentum allowed him to get the upper hand. In the blink of an eye, you were pinned down beneath the newer wolf. If Foxy could have grinned, he would have. It came out in the form of an excited little whine. With his back paw pressed into your stomach, weight helping keeping you pinned, and his own teeth pressed to your jaw. The position was a tight one, likely not something that you could free yourself from without some injury and a distraction to him.
After a few seconds, where he surely was gloating, Foxy finally released the hold he had on your neck and playfully nuzzled against you. He hadn't eased up his other hold yet. You huffed, wriggling to try and get yourself free, nipping at his muzzle which only brought more amused to the other. After a few more moments of teasing, he finally shifted back to let you up and you mistakenly thought it was the end of it. His larger frame pressed to your side, head butting your softly. The affection and play wasn't anything that was all that unusual for wolves, built into the genetics of the pack animal mentality. It was with ease that the two of you shifted mid stride, the laughter that came from the man suddenly filling the air.
"Yeah, keep it up asshole." You shot back, though the grin likley ruined the effect. You couldn't deny that you enjoyed spending time with the other wolf. He had thrown an arm overe your shouders as you made your way to the house. A conversation about the hunt had been started, leaving iyou a little oblivous to the fact that the door had opened.
"The fuck is going on out here?" As automatic as breathing, your eyes shifted over to find Otis, the smile still on your face. It was a contrast to the scowl that adorned him, a little deeper than the near permenant one that was often around. Foxy was still laughing, his arm not moving from your shoulders and all but ignoring the presence of his half brother. Feet carried you towards the man in question, slipping from the grasp of the one beside you. A small squeeze and your body was slotted between his and the railing on the porch, no thought given to the tension that screamed out in his posture or the fact that he had yet to look to you, his gaze still fixed on Foxy. There was no thought given to the dirt and blood that caked your hands and your neck. No one in the family minded, least of all Otis.
"Just getting back from a hunt." Fingers played at his waist line before the touch settled halfway between his abdomen and his side. "Apparently the cooler weather brings out more drunken idiots." As Foxy came up the stairs, Otis stepped closer to you, pinning you against the railing as hi hands found your hip, squeezing tightly. The touch wasn't anything that you weren't accustomed to, so little thought was given to the act. In fact, it was something that you welcomed more than anything. Your healing ability meant that you didn't often wear marks that he could leave but that didn't mean that those he managed weren't proudly held for the short time that they were present.
"It was a damn good one too." Foxy had shifted closer, still grinning wildly. "Fuckers didn't know what hit them." That was when you felt it. The underlying rage that was rising within Otis. Muscles taunt, ready for a fight. Maybe something had happened int he house while you and Foxy were out. Those warning bells were ringing in your head, demanding that you do something to soothe the situation. Your fingers slipped to his waistband again, giving it a little tug in hopes that the action would pull his attention from Foxy to you.
"Nothing saying that you and I can't go out on a hunt." It was one thing to get in time as a wolf, it was another to do so as a human. Besides, you liked watching Otis work. The calculation and methodology was very different from anyone else. Well, often he didn't have to hunt down prey. They came scurrying along from the aid of others.
The offer finally caused him to look back to you and you could see the hint of red that was lingering in those blue iris. Calculating. They narrowed slightly, clearly an assessment of the offer. As if you were attempting to trick him with the comment. Hardly. Maybe when you were feeling up to the task, you would tease the man that was your alpha, but never would you be so mean as to tease him with a hunt. You offered an easy smile, remaining relaxed and comfortable under the possessive hold.
"Fuck off, Foxy. Bunny and I need to talk." Instead of taking the unspoken warning that was layered within the words, Foxy inched closer still.
"Aww, why don't I grab Baby and we make it a family thing?"
"I said, fuck off." Otis shoot his brother a look that was normal reserved for the victims that came wandering into the lair of the Firefly clan. Deadly serious. For just a moment, you thought that Foxy was going to continue to challenge Otis. It certainly looked like he was about to say something else but Baby came wandering to the door. baby might be the most unhinged of the family, but she certainly knew how to read the brothers well.
"You guys are back!" She bounced out from behind the door. "Come on, Foxy. I have a surprise for you." With a quick grab of his hand, she gave the man no chance. Thankfully, she wasn't looking to instigate the issue and watch in amusement, something that had been done on more than one occasion. Foxy's gaze lingered on you for a moment and you gave a subtle nod of your head to get his ass moving before there was a fight. Otis was coiled tighter than a spring and ready to snap. The two disappearede inside, though it hardly brought any relief to the man before you.
"I may have gotten my hands on a piece of information about some tourists coming through the area…some traveling entertainment group or another. Six or seven of them at most, but thought it would make a nice little gift for you." His free hand reached up, gripping the back of your neck with a bruising force, making a small whimper come from your throat before you could catch it. Instantly, you were further relaxed against him, fighting the hold in order to bare your neck to him.
"You have me curious." He murmured before leaning in and biting harshly at the junction of your neck and shoulder, surely drawing blood. If he kept that up, you might just never get to tell him about the hunt that was going to happen. Thought was quickly draining from your awareness, focus narrowing down to the man before you. Agitated, frustrated. Something definitely had set him on edge. There was blood on his lips as he pulled back, the lingering hints of anger still playing over his face. "Charlie called. Cutter and I gotta head out to help him take care of some shit. Need you to hang around the house, keep an eye on Baby and Ma." That level of trust wasn't to be taken lightly. RJ and likely Foxy were still going to be around but that was not an offer that you would shrug off. With Foxy around, you had sort of resumed half living in the house, half living out on the land again. Living in the house for a few days wasn't the worst. Maybe it was about time to be home anyway. That's what the Firefly house was. The pack home.
"I can do that." He nodded.
"Good. Now, up to the room. I wanna hear about this hunt." His grip barely relaxed on you. In fact, he seemed content to refuse to release the hold that he had on the back of your neck. Instead of fight it, you found yourself laughing a bit, leaning in to lick at a spot of blood that had trailed down his chin before shifting, mindful of the grip to do just as he asked.
******************
Three days into your stay within the confines of the house and things had been eventful, as anticipated. Yet it hadn't. Baby was more than happy to have you around. Cuddling, talking your ear off, making you help her play with some of the toys that had been kept around. No hunting just yet and oddly enough, that was fine with you. Mama was thrilled to have you back arouns full time, fussing over you like she had done when you first arrived. Having home cooked meals wasn't anything to bat an eyelash at and you weren't in the business of complaining about it. The others either acknowledged your presence and moved on about their lives or asked for help here and there. All except Foxy. The other wolf in the house had been particularly clingy. His presence was almost always near and if it wasn't hanging back to watch, it involved some sort of contact. For the most part, you chalked it up to being a new wolf. Pack instincts were difficult to shove down and ignore. You had time to get used to it, years of forced and self imposed practice at it. Between him and Baby, you rarely found any personal space but has grown accustomed to it once more so it hardly bothered you. The time you did get alone was spent in Otis's room. Surrounded by the familiar scent soothed the urge to run and ignore the responsibility that had been laid on your shoulders. You also wouldn't admit it aloud but you missed the man. Sure, you could go a few days without seeing one another still at times. But, it was different since he wasn't well within reach.
Things went on that way for another few days until it had been almost a week since Otis had left. beyond the normal chaos of life, nothing terrible had happened. That left you feeling a bit proud to be bal eto make such a report when Otis did come back.
The strongest heat of the summer had finally set in, making the days miserable. You were thankful that you were inside. Baby was in her room, doing who knew what with the toy that had been hanging on. Surprisingly. The fans that were going in the living room and the low hum of the television as it played the old movie was creating a pleasasnt white noise. Lulling and relaxing. There was plenty of things to be done. As always. But, the majority of the important chores had been finished. You had helped Tiny earlier in the day, spending a few hours dragging some bodies out to another burial site about two miles off the property.
Relaxing on the couch, your attention was only half on the film playing on the TV. Foxy had sprawled his lanky frame across the couch, his head in your lap. While his eyes were trained on the screen, he had been spouting off about a money making idea. You snorted softly, rolling your eyes as you glanced down to finally see him looking up at you, grin stretched out across his features.
"Take that smoke and blow it up someone else's ass," ypu replied, shaking your head. "I don't like people. And I don't have any interest in fucking on camera."
"Never said anything about fucking on camera."
"You honestly think I would believe you're going to start a legitimate movie studio?" You raised your brow and Foxy laughed. "That'll be the day I become a fucking vegetarian."
"Aww. Come on." Foxy knew he was defeated but that didn't mean that he was going to give up on the idea or the teasing. That much you had learned about the man since he had arrived at the Firefly homestead. You growled lowly. To which, the little shit that he was, just growled back and playfully snapped his teeth. You shoved his head off of your lap in respone. It pulled an amusing whine from him, something far more pitiful than he should have been capable of given what you knew of the man.
A familiar scent reached your nose and suddenly, nothing that had been happened mattered. You stepped over Foxy, who hadn't realized what you were doing and reached out to grab a hold of you, snagging you around the waist and pulling you back down. Right into his lap. Another growl, this time far more aggressive rumbled from within and you smacked at his arm, ready to use claws and draw blood if need be.
"What's the rush?"
"Let go." Of course, he didn't listen, keeping you pressed to his frame. Strength matched strength so it wasn't like it was the easiest to break free from his hold. The previous threat that had gone unspoken was held, your claws digging into his forearm.
"Fuck, come on Bunny." He grunted and his arm dropped away, leaving just enough of an opening for you to slip from his grasp, just as Otis entered the room. It may have appeared a little overeager but you had wanted to greet him at the damn door. The problem? The look on his face screamed murder, his entire posture coiled and ready to launch an attack. It would have been amusing to see him bear his teeth, towards Foxy of all people, as if he was a wolf. However, it was a situation that you had to diffuse quickly unless you wanted a blood bath on your hand. Did you really think the two would make a serious attempt on each other? No. They were family. But, the amount of rage that was rising in the room was palpable. Foxy held his arm, watching the wounds heal, not yet looking towards Otis. Probably a good thing if you were honest.
"Didn't expect you back for another few days." You moved over to him but this time, his attention didn't slip over to you.
"You wanna explain to me why you were touching Bunny like that?" The words were remarkably calm for the anger that you felt rolling off him and that was not good. A calm angry Otis was the most dangerous Otis.
"Relax Whitey." Foxy started, finally looking up and taking in the challenge that was before him. It hit you in that moment, watching his jaw tick and Otis practically grind his teeth. He thought Foxy was trying something. Jealousy? Maybe. Possessive? Beyond a shadow of a doubt. No one had ever been a real threat to the position before now. Men could look, chat, make passes but they were nothing more than prey and meals to you, something that Otis always knew. Foxy was different. Foxy was a wolf. Foxy was a memeber of the family, a killer. Someone who understood the life. Actual competition. Suddenly, smaller things that had happened over the last few weeks snapped into focus. Reactions that Otis had over things that you hadn't given much thought. Still, it wasn't possible that Foxy was interested. Right? No, he was being a wolf.
"Don't tell me to fucking relax." He stepped closer to Foxy, one hand curled at his side and the other inching towards the spot on his leg where he kept his knife. That would be an utter shit show. Briefly, the thought that perhaps it was time to turn Otis flickered through your mind. Now was hardly the time to entertain it. It would make the fight a tad more fair. How you ended up separating them was a question tghat you had no answer to just yet. You shifted, keeping closer to Otis for now, attempting to draw his attention off of Foxy. "I'll fucking relax when you keep your fucking hands to yourself."
The growl that came was warning enough for you. Foxy wasn't backing down. Though, in hindsight it shouldn't have come as a surprise when Otis was the first to swing. Apparently, his normally razor thin sense of patience was entirely nonexistent today. It was that first movement that had caught Foxy off guard. He hadn't thought Otis would really do it. The blow landed square on the jaw, snapping his head to the side. Eyes red, teeth bare, and utterly feral. Otis wasn't wt all in any sort of state to realize that it wasn't the smartest idea to pick a fist fight with a wolf. And you didn't want to see the reaction that could come from Foxy. Under any other circumstance, you were certain that they would probably each walk away with some bruises and that would be it. But, Foxy was a wolf. Both men's emotions were ramped up. The consequences now were far greater. You shoved your way between them, body blocking Foxy in the process as he went to lunge back at Otis.
"Foxy, fuck off. That's enough." Your own snarl mingled into the words, fighting a shift. It wouldn't be helpful in any direction. Tiny and RJ seemed to appear at the commotion. Thankfully it wasn't Baby. Those two were less likely to cause more agitation. Foxy snarled back at you, truly animal like. "I ain't dealing with this fucking pissing contest." Not that your words mattered to the rage that fueled the movements. Nor was the involvement appreciated. From either party it seemed. The rake of claws against the skin of your back was painful but the wound would heal quickly enough. The repressed grunt was enough to push Otis over the edge, knife flashing wildly. Thankfully, Mama appeared and let out a shout, enough to momentarily distract the men and let you shove Foxy in the direction of Tiny and RJ. They understood the silent command well enough and shifted to try and corral the other wolf out of the room.
"What is going on?"
"Sorry, Mama..." You apologized, though Otis was still in the middle of his fit and before anything else could pass your lips, his hand clamped tightly around your throat. You gave a subtle motion for Mama to head off while relaxing entirely under the harsh grasp. Fighting it would only make whatever was happening worse. Or maybe he wanted a bit of a fight. You focused all your attention back onto the raging beast of a man, who was all but snarling in his own right. Blood soaked your shirt but the wounds on your back were healing already. The knife in his hand was brought up to your cheek, point pressed hard enough to break skin. Oh, he was seriously pissed. The knife didn't always come into play and when it did? It was never the face.
"The fuck has been going on?" You knew that the honest answer wouldn't be believed but you weren't about to lie to him either.
"Can't speak…for Foxy." It was hard to push the words out as he compressed your windpipe. If you wanted him off of you, you could easily make it so but you weren't about to do that. "Nothing. Only….you, Otis." Foxy could bark up that tree all he wanted. You only had eyes for the man before you. Now, it was seeing what needed to be done to get back in his good graces.
Warning: Dead dove content, abusive relationships, non-con, please proceed with caution.
Author's Note: Please heed the warning above. I don't want to spoil things too severely with the direction I took with this fic, so you will find that not everything is tagged. It has abusive relationships depicted among other things and could be triggering for some people. For those who are familiar with the film, you will find that Angus is very much in character in terms of some of the bad things he does. This is one of the longest things I have written. It got way out of hand before I realized I just had to let it take control. Honestly, not sure if anyone will even read this one but that's fine. It was a learning experience writing it. As always, not beta read. Likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are what feed the muses and keeps the writing coming.
Gentle music echoed from the upstairs bedroom. Soft, melodic. The perfect background the provide the peaceful sort of evening the family needed as a whole. Something nagged at the back of your mind. Like an itch that couldn't be scratched. Persistent. Annoying. Unrelenting. You did your best to breathe through it and ignore it. Tonight was supposed to be a happy occasion. Belle had been accepted into a prestigious music program. Thankfully, it wasn't that far away but she would still need to step a few nights away from the house every week. You knew that your husband was nervous about letting your daughter go. You were too. Maybe that was what that feeling was. In the end, it was a big deal and something that you both had to be happy about, even if it was a little uncomfortable for the both of you.
You were pulled out of your thoughts by the pressure of large hands against your hips and lips pressed to the back of your skull.
"Smells good, sweetheart." You relaxed back into the touch even as the hair on your neck stood. Conflicting sensations that just made your head hurt. There wasn't any sense to it.
"Well, it is your favorite." The amused sound reverberated in his chest and was a pleasant rumble against your back. Comfort. Not unease. Angus would never be the cause of such emotions. He had always been your protector. The safe space in which to hide away from the world and all of the worries and evils.
"Are you okay?" He shifted to the side, hands still against you but now ensuring he could see your face. You smiled, trying to ease whatever worry that there. It had been that way since the accident. Angus was constantly vigilante over both you and your daughter, worried that you could be taken from him. Unfortunately, it wasn't a fear that you could easily assuage, no matter what you offered. There was no one in the world that could make a promise that they wouldn't fall ill or be on the unfortunate end of an accident. You could still remember how it has felt, waking in bed and being bandaged almost to the point of being unable to move.
"Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little bit of a headache." The calloused fingers that brushed over your cheek had your eyes closing, but the sense of dread deepened.
"It looks just about done. I know it's gotta simmer from here. Why don't you go take a nap?" He was right. The last bit could be handled. Likely, the feelings and the headache were from the stress of everything. It was silly and you needed to calm yourself down. Leaning over, you pressed a kiss to Angus's cheek.
"Thank you. You are the best." Another laugh and his fingers lingered against your cheek for a second longer.
"Remember that if I let it burn." A teasing joke was the last thing to send you off. Feeling lighter, you headed to your bedroom to take a small nap and see if it helped your head. Your head had barely hit the pillow before you were out, lulled into sleep by the soft music and the discomfort in your head.
****************
A warm breeze. The kiss of the sun upon your skin. The laughter of a child in the background. You were aware of everything and nothing all at once behind the darkness of your closed lids. The gentle rise and fall of the chest below your head was the only thing bringing movement.
"You're going to have to get up eventually." You hummed in response.
"Don't ruin my zen Charlie." There was a light tug of your hair before the pleasing sensation of blunt nails pressed to your scalp.
"Oh, forgive me. I didn't even know you knew the meaning of the word zen." You blindly smacked at the man that you were laying across with a laugh.
"Whatever, asshole." Spending the day at the park was just what was needed after the long week that the both of you had. If it could have gone wrong, it went wrong. From alarms not going off to projects being turned in late to breaking your favorite coffee mug that you had in your possession for years. Charlie continued to run his fingers through your hair, making you forget all about how rough the week had been. These were the soft moments that anyone and everyone lived for when it came to spending time with loved ones.
"So, I've been thinking…."
"Oh, dangerous pass time. Is that why I'm smelling bacon?"
"Now who is being the asshole," he offered with a mocking exclamation. You opened your eyes finally, looking up to the sky for several long seconds before turning your head so Charlie's face was semi-visible to you.
"I'm sorry. Continue. You've been thinking." The curve of the smile was just barely visible to you. The smile that had first caught your attention, the smile that looked so natural on his face, the smile that lit up everything.
"Why don't we take a vacation? Hmm? Go somewhere, anywhere, far away. Just get away from all the responsibilities and things that are weighing us down. Enjoy time together, like we are meant to without the hustle of work, deadlines, overtime." The two of you had talked but there had always been something getting in the way or generally preventing you from just up and going where you wanted. Having a kid, demands of the job, sick family. You name it and it had popped up. Charlie sounded so confident and spoke with the conviction of a man who was going to do just as he had said.
"It sounds perfect. But…"
"No, no buts. We are going to do it. Leave everything up to me all right?" You hesitated for a second, envisioning everything that could go wrong than all the enjoyment that could come from it. He lifted his head and looked down at you, waiting for the answer.
"All right." The confirmation of agreement sealed the deal.
*****************
The rain poured from the heavens, as if every cloud overhead had been wrought out right onto the very road that you were driving along. It was the sort of heavy rain that the wipers simply could not keep up with and that you were better off pulling off to the side of the road than continuing onward. As sound of an idea as that was, Charlie was determined to continue onward. You understood why. It was the last leg to your vacation and you had all been pretty excited to get to the cabin and enjoy a little time beside the gorgeous lake. However, if you didn't get there in one piece, was it really worth it?
"I think that maybe we should pull over. Try to wait it out a bit." Charlie was leaned forward in the driver seat as if that would help him see better. Not a chance.
"No, it's okay. I got this." You glanced back towards your daughter. She was buckled in tightly and sound asleep. The storm hardly caused her any problems and for that you were grateful. It made your own anxiety lessen that she couldn't be concerned over anything.
"We can't see two feet ahead of us, let alone if there is a car or an accident or something…"
"I got it. We are going to be fine. Just sit back and read or something, okay. We will be there in no time. Trust me." This went beyond a simple factor of trust. Trust came with things like cooking dinner, fixing the sink, getting your daughter to school on time, picking up a birthday cake. Being superhuman and seeing through a deluge was not a matter of trust. But, you know that you were not going to be able to convince him otherwise when he was so damn focused. So, you sat back and chewed silently at your thumb in an attempt to not cause an argument because you said something again.
He had slowed down at least, you could feel the way that the car decelerated as you ended up on a rather windy road. If you were nervous before, it was nothing compared to the way that your stomach rolled and your palms were sweating now. There was temptation to say something again. Now though, you were worried about distracting him too much and causing the accident instead of the poor weather conditions.
You chewed on your thumbnail, desperately fighting back the urge to speak, keeping as still and quiet as possible. Reading wasn't going to happen. You felt like if you took your eyes off of the road, you would end up off of it.
It was impossible to miss the muttered curse that came from Charlie or feel the way that the car slid on the turn. He corrected it and managed to keep the car under control. If it didn't happen again, maybe you would be okay. The thought came too soon. As the next turn was sharper, he wasn't able to correct the wheel in time. Even with the low speed, you were sent careening into a tree.
The impact jolted you both hard, with your head banging against the glass of the window. Almost immediately, pain exploded out from your temple. The only thought that occupied your mind though was checking on your daughter. The pain you were experiencing could be cataloged and dealt with later.
It took more effort than it should have to twist your torso and look into the backseat. There, scared but seemingly unharmed, sat your daughter, clutching her stuffed bear. Relief was instantaneous. It felt like you could breath again as air filled your once compressed lungs and your heart started to beat once more.
"It's okay sweetie." The sickly taste of copper entered your senses, coupled with the side of your face feeling sticky. Great. The car surely couldn't be driven. Reaching back, you gave your daughter's leg a small squeeze and offered as much of a smile as you could. "We are okay and it's all going to be okay." Charlie groaned beside you and leaned forward.
"Shit…" The sentiment was echoed. You had no idea what you were supposed to do. One thing was for sure. You couldn't sit here and do nothing.
"Are you okay?" You reached out to touch Charlie's shoulder and he hissed in pain.
"No. I think my legs pinned." His leg was pinned? Oh, this was really not good.
"Stop moving," you pleaded and tried to lean over to see. It looked like the door was crushed in, leaving his leg trapped. Of all the times you had decided to leave your phones at home. "Okay. You just need to stay calm." For the sake of all of you. If he started freaking out, so would the little one in the back seat.
There was only one solution. Even if it wasn't a particularly good one.
"I'll have to walk and find the closest house. See if they are able to get us any help."
"That's not a good idea."
"Neither is sitting here and waiting for someone to come along. You need help, Charlie." You shouldn't be the one walking in the rain but there was not another choice. You grabbed your coat from the backseat. "I'll be back as quick as I can. Just stay right here." A comment to them both. Would it do any good? Charlie couldn't move so, hopefully he could keep everyone calm and collected while you braved the elements.
It was worse to experience pounding down against your shoulders than it had been in the car. You squinted against the wind, seeing only a few feet in front of you. The road was just off to your left as you walked next to it, hoping to avoid getting hit if there was any cars coming through.
Ten minutes felt like ten years. You were freezing and held your arms close to your body to try and retain some heat. How was it that cold when it was summer? Just went you felt like crying, the sight of a light ahead caught your attention.
"Thank god." Moving as quickly as you dared, you scurried towards it and the house that started to materialize around through the wind and rain.
A small, rustic but cozy looking older home. Like one of those ones you would see in reenactment towns. Reprieve from the rain was granted as you carefully made you way up the steps and onto the covered porch. There was no way to stop the shivering as you knocking on the door, hoping that someone was home.
It took a few minutes and just as you had lost hope that anyone was there, the door creaked open.
"Listen, I'm not…." The man behind the door paused in whatever he was about to say, his brow furrowing as he took you in.
"Hi. I'm really sorry to bother you. We had a crash about ten minutes down the road. My boyfriend has his legs pinned and my daughter is still in the car with him. We had no phones.Are you able to call for help?" The screen door swung open and he motioned for you to step in. This virtual stranger could have had intentions but you were in no position to make judgement of such things. Your head was killing you and the help was so desperately needed.
"You look like you're about to fall over." His voice had softened significantly from the tone he had used when he opened the door. You were beyond grateful to be fully out of the wind and the rain. Even so, you were mindful of your presence in the home. Left sopping and dripping wet from the downpour, the last thing you wanted to do it destroy anything. "You hit your head?" Calloused fingers gently lifted your chin before pressing to your cheek so you turned your head.
"Yeah. Against the window."
"It looks nasty. Come on, let's get you sitting down and then I'll head out." He lead you towards the couch, feet shuffling across the floor and by the time you blinked, you were sitting on the couch, a towel wrapped around your shoulders and a small one to hold to your head. There was some vague notion that you had exchanged names. Angus. It stood out.
He had donned a jacket and was talking with someone on the phone. You weren't sure who, unable to completely overhear his conversation. Another shiver wracked your entire frame. Worry ate at your gut, thoughts all centered around your daughter.
"I'll be back in a little bit. You just stay right there and keep pressure against your head. Everything's going to be all right." You had to trust him. The pain was getting worse and now you were dizzy. There wasn't a chance you could make it back to the car yourself.
"Okay." He smiled and headed out the door.
You had lost track of time, zoning in and out, doing your best not to fall asleep. The sound of the door opening was enough to jar you from the semi catatonic state and you had to peel yourself from the couch. Only Angus stood there, shivering himself now that he was soaked to the bone. Carried in his arms was a small form, covered entirely by the jacket he had given up. Your daughter was safe and you immediately moved forward to gather her from his arms.
"It's okay," you reassured her as she clung to you. Charlie was still missing. He hadn't been able to move, too pinned in so it didn't come as a surprise.
"Here, let's get you settled in front of the fire. Okay? She needs to warm up and you need to be off of your feet."
"How's Charlie?" Your daughter clung tightly to you, her little arms around your neck. You held her back almost as tightly, the entire incident shaking you up. Angus gave you a gently nudge towards the couch once more, urging you to take a seat close to the fire.
"Someone's gonna come by and help him. I have it all arranged. You don't need to be worrying about anything right now. Just sit." You didn't need to be told twice. Being on your feet was making you a little woozy, stomach churning with the threat of emptying right there onto his living room floor. The comfort of the couch helped ease those feelings, no longer standing or trying to focus too hard on anything also helping. Heavy footsteps once more echoed, fading into the background. The cackling of the fire combined with the battering of the rain against the windows was a lulling, relaxing sound that threatened to fully take you away from consciousness. The only thing that didn't was the feeling of a heavy blanket being draped over you. Angus softly encouraged your daughter to take a stuffed bear that had appeared out of nowhere. It looked a little worn. Did he have kids? The thought lingered on the edge of your hazy mind. A low gentle hum entered your ear, pushing you further into sleep. A calloused finger swiped over your forehead before multiple pushed through your hair. Was it real? You couldn't tell if it was a phantom touch or genuine as you drifted off.
**************
The time seemed to blur together. It had been two days at the most. Two days since you had arrived at the house. Only a day since the devastating news had been delivered. Charlie was dead. He had bled out from being pinned, his leg trapped and cut into thanks to the twisted metal.
It was a shock to the system, leaving you numb. Angus had been apologetic as he had delivered the news. He hadn't been available to take you to the hospital when you had asked, meaning you hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye.
Left stranded in a state that wasn't your home, without a car, without a phone, without any real means in that moment to handle the devastation that had been unexpected. You weren't sure where to even begin. It had been hard, your mind hazy at best since you had arrived. Trauma did that. A fact that you were aware of somewhere in the back of your mind but were utterly incapable of processing or using. You went through the motions as best as you could. Angus was mindful and considerate. More than you had any really right to experience and something that you were far more thankful of than you could put into words. He was there allowing you to have your breakdowns, hidden away from your daughter. He was there to make sure that you were both fed and had a place to keep a roof over your head. He was there to try and keep you from completely falling apart and keeping your daughter distracted enough that she didn't question it.
Sitting at the table, you smiled your best for your daughter as you both ate breakfast. Angus was propped against the counter, sipping coffee. A silent watcher. It hardly mattered that he seemed a constant presence. If anything, it was comforting albeit it slightly suffocating.
"You gotta finish up, sweetheart. The weathers finally nice, so we are going to go out to the park." She perked up a little more, looking back and forth between you and Angus. A smile lit up her face.
"Really?" You nodded and finally, a small laugh came from you as she let out a little squeal, all excited over the prospect. It felt good to laugh, even if it was small. A tiny release of some of that pressure in your chest.
"Yeah. Thought you might be getting a little cooped up in the house, going crazy." Clearly, he made a face as your daughter laughed, grinning as she looked at the man. Looking down, you swallowed down the rising guilt that threatened to ruin the soft moment that was so desperately needed. Before your mind could travel too far, there was a warm, strong hand on your shoulder. Angus stood behind you, giving it a squeeze. His smile was soft, knowing. It was enough of a grounding that you were able to take a breath and shake it off.
"We'll even see about getting ice cream." She cheered at that and it made it a little easier. "But, you have to finish up your breakfast first. Okay?" The answer was a nod and a quick movement to finish up what was on her plate. Angus remained there, landing you a silent strength and support. You weren't sure if you would have made it through without having that support.
With everyone finished up and the small mess had been cleaned, Angus helped you get the little one into his car. The actions were familiar and yet so incredibly different. Enough so that your chest tightened once again, the weight of the emotion staggering, robbing your lungs of air and momentarily locking up all your muscles.
"Hey, it's okay. Breathe." A hand against the small of your back in a light touch and the gentle voice in your ear was enough to begin pulling you back to the surface. Pushing out a heavy breath, you nodded slowly. "That's it. Everything's okay. Just keep breathing. In and out." Eventually, as you followed the over exaggerated way he was breathing, you calmed down. What could have been a crippling moment passed far more quickly than it would have without Angus. Once again, a rush of gratitude for the man washed over you.
Not thinking anything of the way that he was free and almost too forward in the way that he touched you, you were simply happy that he was providing support in the time it was needed the most. Doing all of this on your own would have been far too much. He opened the car door for you and you slid in without a thought.
The drive was fairly quiet, but as you settled onto a bench,the weight of everything came rushing back over you. You had to be strong. For her if nothing else.
"Thank you, Angus," you murmured to the man next to you, both of your eyes following your daughter as she played on the playground. "I don't know if I would be able to keep it together without your help."
"You would have done it. If for nothing else than for her." He echoed the very thoughts you had just had. A reinforcement and the vote of confidence that you needed in order to not feel like everything was falling apart. Even if it was. "It's a lot. No one is saying that it isn't." How you could have been so lucky to find someone as kind and generous as Angus during such a horrendous time of your life was a miracle. The sort that you didn't question and ran with in order to keep moving forward. His steady presence was not only helping you but keeping your daughter on track. Thankfully. The trauma was bad enough for you to deal with but you wanted to try and make sure that she didn't suffer from it too much. There would come an understanding of death, that much was unavoidable. But, right now, it was better to keep her as sheltered as possible.
"Does it get any easier?" You knew that he had lost his wife. That much had become evident over the few days that you had stayed with him. That had not been the most tactful way of asking the question but you were desperate to hear something positive, something realistic outside of it would be okay.
"Yes and no…." It was honest and you were thankful for that as you turned your attention fully to Angus for a moment. "The loss doesn't leave you. The pain doesn't leave. But it lessens a bit." That was enough of a light at the end of the tunnel for the tightness in your chest to ease just slightly, a small increment enough for it to be noticeable as you took a deep breath. Those hands that felt like they were wrapped around your neck lightened.
"Thank you for being honest." He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and while it didn't feel exactly comfortable, in that moment you weren't willing to push it away either. The touch of another was grounding.
**************
Today was supposed to be the day that you were heading back home. You had lingered and suffered through the worst of the first week of the loss with Angus at his home. He had been gracious and more than generous in what he had given you and your daughter. However, you couldn't hide away forever. You had a job that you had to get back to and life didn't stop just because your world had come crashing down around you.
As the haze of sleep began to fade, you went to shift and roll closer to the edge of the bed, only to find that you weren't able to roll entirely. Something heavy was locked around your ankle, keeping you from shifting your entire body enough. Frowning, you reached for the blankets and yanked them back. What you were seeing was something that your brain struggled to comprehend. The heavy steel that encompassed your ankle was linked to a chain. The chain itself was bolted into the wall on the side of the bed. Panic was quickly rising, clawing at your throat, robbing you of your breath. You couldn't get enough oxygen into your lungs to let out a scream. Reaching down, your fingers wrapped around the metal and found that there was no way that it could be pulled apart. Chained to the bed. You were chained to the bed. Nothing about it made sense and you pulled at the chain to see if you could loosen it from the wall. Each attempt was made in vain, the metal not showing any signs of weakness. Nothing about it made sense.
Before you were able to shout, the door to your room opened. Angus stepped in, carrying a small tray that seemed to hold some breakfast. He didn't bat an eyelash at your situation. He had done this?
"Brought you some breakfast," he started.
"Angus, what is going on?"
"And some tea the way that you like it." He completely ignored your question and settled the tray in your lap. "Go on, eat up before it gets cold." Your head hurt and you couldn't bring yourself to reach for the food. You could only stare at the man, desperation clawing deeply in your chest. Where was your daughter? Was she safe? Panic, worse than before started to build. Your head felt fuzzy at best and vision clouded ever so slightly.
"Angus….I need you to tell me what's going on." Your voice was barely above a whisper, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. "Where is she?"
"Are you worried about Belle? She's fine. She is still sleeping." Belle? That was the name of his dead daughter. It made no sense. Instead of answering anything else, or freeing you from your shackles, he pushed the tray of food closer. "Come on now. You know you'll head up with a headache if you don't eat and have your tea." Your stomach rolled, bile rising and stinging your throat. Eating was not something that you would be able to do right then. How could you possibly do so when your life was turning upside down once more. The kind, welcoming man that you had thought had been the bright point was quickly becoming the biggest source of terror. It was a stuttering, shaking movement that came when you shook your head no. His brow furrowed and the frown deepened, creating an almost scowl that would have sent you running for the hills if you were capable of movement. He knelt beside the bed and reached out. You weren't able to put any distance between you as his large palm pressed to your cheek. Breath held, you waited for it to slip down to your neck, squeezing the life out of you.
"Brenda, sweetheart, I know you aren't feeling well." The name of his dead wife. That was what he was calling you. You blinked away the tears the best that you could but they began falling. He thought that you were his dead wife and your daughter was his? That was what this was? You had to get out of here, had to get free. "But you don't have to worry about a thing. I have it all taken care of, so you just have to worry about relaxing so that you can feel better. Okay?" What were you supposed to say to any of that. Nothing had seemed to pierce through whatever fantasy that he had found himself caught up in. You were stuck. Another shaky movement, a nod this time as your voice once again failed you.
You closed your eyes and tried your best not to flinch as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, the soft movement such a contrast from the current predicament that you found yourself in. He hadn't made any move to hurt you yet. He stepped back and left the room, the door closing sounding like thunder to your ears.
There wasn't a chance that you would be able to touch the food. Not only due to the nausea that ruled everything but there was a paranoid part of you that was beginning to wonder if he drugged the food. How could you have been asleep so deeply that you hadn't felt yourself being chained to the bed. Burying your face in your hands, you could do nothing but cry. Sheer terror, grief, and exhaustion had all mixed into an overwhelming crashing wave of emotions. What were you supposed to do? There was a delusional man holding you and your daughter hostage. No one knew where you were. No one had any idea that you had been staying with Angus. Everything suddenly felt far more hopeless than it had when you had learned that Charlie had died.
**********
It had been days of the same. Days of being chained to the bed or practically carried to the bathroom by Angus. There was no other movement allowed. Like he knew that you weren't Brenda and couldn't be trusted, yet he continued to refer to you by the name of his dead wife. You hadn't seen your daughter that entire time, but you could hear him through the door, explaining that you were sick and you didn't want to get her sick. To your growing horror, she seemed to believe him and didn't question anything that was said. The attachment was there. Screaming and calling out would only serve to frighten her but it was beginning to become the only option that you might have.
You played along the best that you could, not wanting to anger the man and seeing that he seemed contented when you responded positively. It was still hard to eat. Still hard to not flinch under his touch. The desperation that you felt was the only thing that overrode everything else, stemming from a survival instinct. It hadn't seemed to do anything in terms of gaining more trust.
You needed just a few seconds of freedom. Just enough time to be able to have some separation. There were plenty of weapons laying around. Really, every item that was in the house could have been used as a weapon. Incapacitating Angus was what you were looking to do. Long enough to be able to grab your daughter and flee the house. Each and every time you were away from the bed you were looking for it. But, as the days ticked by, you realized that it may never come. You might have to make the moment for yourself. How to do that? It was still unclear.
This was nothing that you were prepared or equipped to handle. Nothing in your life had set you up to figure your way out of the situation. And as the time continued to tick by, that desperation was turning into despair. Despair and a growing horror that you were never going to escape. Each and every movement that didn't present a chance only dulled you further. Angus seemed entirely oblivious to the fact, only continuing to behave as if you were ill rather than held against your will. He continued to act like you were his wife and a willing participant of daily life. Food was brought to your bed, along with a cup of tea. He chatted about your daughter as if she was his own.
What really freaked you out? The fact that the touches were becoming more frequent and far less restrained. His hands trailed along your arms, along your back, against your sides far more freely. There was nothing gentle or soothing about it as there had been when you had first arrived. His lips often found your cheek, your shoulder, occasionally your neck. And there was nothing that you could do about that. As much as you shied away, he was entirely caught up in whatever he was living and seeing. He didn't notice the fact that each touch, each seemingly soft intended action was just causing more fear to build up. He didn't blink as you flinched under the touch of his lips. It only caused that sense of despair to grow. He genuinely thought that you were his wife and were unwell, trying to nurse you back to heal in this twisted sense of care. Those were the times that his grip seemed to tighten, to the point of leaving behind bruises. A contrast to what he thought was gentle care.
You needed to escape. But would you ever?
The opportunity came entirely unexpectedly and caused your heart to leap into your throat. Angus had pulled you to the bathroom for a shower, standing guard on the toliet, giving you no privacy as you cleaned yourself. The sounds of your daughter crying out caught both of your attention. Angus spared one glance towards you before racing off to see what had caused the sound. This was it. This was your chance. Adrenaline flooded your system, causing you to hesitate. As if you couldn't believe that the moment had finally presented itself. Could you do this?
Then, you were moving in a flurry of activity. Clothes hastily pulled on, you were scrambling through the bathroom to grab something that you would be able to use against the man. There wasn't much and you found yourself pulling down the bar that held up the shower curtain. Panting heavily, you raced out of the bathroom before coming to a sudden stop. The house was quiet around you. There were no more sounds coming from your daughter. Where were they? You had to find them in order to get out of here. You couldn't leave your daughter behind.
"Brenda, what are you doing?" You hadn't made it ten feet down the hallway before Angus was standing there. Shaking, you held the bar tightly and lifted it, ready to swing and attempt to defend yourself. "Sweetheart, come on. Put that bar down. We will get you back to the bed." He stepped closer. All you could really hear was the thrumming of your head and the rush of blood by your ears. Throat dry, hands shaking, and unsure if this was really going to work, you had no other option. Once he was close enough, you swung. Hard. The bar cracked across his temple and he let out a yelp of pain. This was it. That was your true chance.
Dropping the curtain bar, you took off sprinting. Where was your daughter? Each door was slammed open but you didn't see her. She hadn't sounded that far off when she had cried out. She had to be somewhere close and not elsewhere in the house. If she was somewhere else, it was going to give Angus time to catch up to you.Frantic movements had you stumbling over your own feet as tears began to form once more.
In the panic, you didn't notice that Angus hadn't actually gone down. He caught up to you quickly, just as you were ready to all but jump down the stairs. A tight grip on your wrist had you crying out.
"That's enough!" That was the harshest that you had ever heard his voice. Looking to you, you noticed some blood seeping from his hair line. The blow had done damage. Something that you would have been proud of if you weren't entirely freaked out by the fact that he was up and had grabbed a hold of you. You couldn't go back to the bedroom. You couldn't allow yourself to be chained again. This was the time to fight.
Flailing, you smacked and punched at him. throwing your weight around in an attempt to break free from the hold. Against a mountain of a man like Angus, it was a fruitless endeavor but that didn't stop you from making the attempt. Just as he went to yank you close, you managed to kick out and hit his knee. There was a crunch and another yelp of pain that left him. It caused him to release his grip but also caused you to lose your balance, tumbling down the stairs backwards. Pain wracked every portion of your body before your world went black.
**************
One small and one large hand pressed against your own hands. Gentle touches. Quiet murmuring reached your ears and that was what really started to cause the darkness to fade. Pain. That was really what registered first. Everywhere and everything seemed to hurt. In a way that made you wish for the darkness to creep back in. Lips parted and a groan that caused your entire chest to ache escaped.
"Brenda?" Forcing your eyes open, everything seemed blurry at first. It took several tries to blink away the haze, causing the room to spin violently before settling down. "Easy there, sweetheart. You took a nasty fall down the stairs. Got you all patched up but think you are going to be stuck in bed for a bit." Your mind was hazy but something about that didn't sit right. It felt funny. But, you were in too much pain to really focus on it.
"Had the doc come out and take a look. He said that you have a concussion. Might be hard to remember things for a bit. But, don't you worry. Me and Belle are going to take good care of you. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" A tinier voice answered.
"I promise!" A low chuckle, the sound soft and peaceful. It eased your mind some.
"She's been an eager little helper the whole time. Hasn't wanted to leave your side." The man came into view finally, and the punched brow, tired eyes, but soft smile all lent itself to a worried expression. His hand didn't give yours a squeeze, instead he lifted it carefully, half way bent over himself, and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. You noticed that the wrist was wrapped in a bandage. "I just need you to promise me that you are going to be more careful from now on. You had Belle and I really worried." The little one that was sitting on your other side nodded, before sliding down to a laying position and wrapping her small arms around yours.
"I was scared." The words that came next from you, despite the pain that it caused, kicked up without thought.
"I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to scare you. I promise, it won't ever happy again, okay? It was just an accident." You didn't remember falling down the stairs. This? With him and her felt familiar though. You looked back towards the man and felt a burst of affection.
"You don't have to say anything, sweetheart. Just rest okay? I'm gonna go get you some water. Then you can go back to sleep. Your body is going to need it to heal." You found that you couldn't entirely nod your head. It spiked fear through you before he was leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. That was bandaged too from the feeling of things.
"Angus…"
"I know, I know. It's all going to be okay. You're going to heal up and everything will be back to normal." You felt yourself trusting those words, the tone resolute and yet gentle. There was a fear that remained, especially as he wandered away. There was no fighting the way that your eyes slipped closed once more, struggling to stay conscious long enough to have some water and soothe the ache that was in your throat. You tried to focus on keeping your breathing slow and steady, in and out at an even pace to try to both ignore and ease the pain that you were feeling. It didn't work all that well, but at least helped to dull the throbbing that had settled in your ribs. It provided that something to focus on other than the pain. In and out. Count. Each breath allowed seconds to tick away and slip you closer and closer back to sleep. All before there was a throat being cleared and a large hand against yours once more. Angus.
He carefully helped to ease you up enough, despite the pain, to take a sip of the water. The cool liquid felt good against your parched throat and mouth but too quick an action caused you to cough. It was utter agony as your ribs protested the movement. Shock waves of pain coursed through you, making you see stars.
"Sorry, sweetheart. Ease. Just try to breathe through it." As much as you tried to listen, it was almost impossible. Both he and your daughter tried to ease and talk you through the moment, their voices mingling. It provided something else for your brain to latch onto, despite the tears that slowly tracked down your face, falling without any permission from your tightly closed eyes. Angus gently wiped them away each time that he noticed them. There was something within that ached just as bad as the physical with each touch of his large, rough hands. Something that had you wanting to flinch, wanting to pull away. But the comfort that came from a caring and gentle touch was too much to ignore. You couldn't give into the nagging feeling.
"That's it," he encouraged. You couldn't see him but could feel the warmth of his presence hovering close. "Don't fight it if you have to fall back asleep. We'll be right here when you wake back up. Before you know it, you'll be all better and we'll laugh about everything that we had to do for you." The focus on steadying your breathing gave way to the sudden exhaustion that overcame you. You thought that it was a nice though as sleep once more overtook.
******
It had taken longer than you would have cared to admit for you to be able to get up and move around on your own. A broken leg, several busted ribs, sprained wrist, and concussion were among the injuries sustained in the fall. There was something important that you had forgotten, with the blow to the head causing chronic headaches and haziness that lingered.
Thankfully, you had Angus there to fall back on. The man had been there for anything and everything that you had ever needed. He had helped you physically move around the house while you couldn't and ensured that you were thoroughly distracted so you didn't get too into your head while you healed. Whether that was simply talking to you for hours or sitting and enjoying movies with you. It didn't matter what it was, Angus was sure to spend hours with you.
The effort that it took to walk kept you only partially mobile rather than allowing you to follow the urge that you had to move around and get back to some semblance of life. Especially given how excited your daughter was now that you were up and somewhat moving. Despite the restrictive nature. It gave you something else to focus on when Angus was too busy. With the freedom of some movement, you were able to settle into her bedroom and play dolls, read to her, or help with arts and crafts.
That was where you were currently settled, stretched out over her bed with a book in hand. She was curled up into your side, arms wrapped tightly around yours, listening to you read her new book. A moment that you were able to lose yourself in, finding the motions familiar enough that you were able to not think about the pain that radiated from your leg or the headache that was forming behind your eyes. It was easy to push away the feeling when she was making small excited sounds at the parts of the book that she found enjoyable. Each and every sound made caused your cheeks to hurt from the smile that sat on your lips. The way that she found such enjoyment in things like this was always refreshing. The innocence and joy of small things gave you a new perspective on things.
A throat cleared from the doorway and your eyes shot up to see Angus standing there, smiling as he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest.
"You two look like you are having a good time."
"We are! We just got to a really exciting part." The enthusiasm of your daughter had you both laughing softly.
"It sounds like it is a really exciting part," he offered as he stepped into the room. "We'll know what happens in a little bit. I have to borrow Mom for a bit, okay? It's time for her medicine and we have to make sure that she eats, right?" There was a small whine from her before she was nodding and slowly pulled away from you.
"Yeah, she does." You chuckled softly and turned to kiss the top of her head.
"We'll get right back to it, okay? We'll find out exactly what Arthur the frog is going to do now that Yancy the Beaver is missing." She nodded and moved enough that Angus was able to help you up and off the bed. One arm around your waist, he was able to keep you steady as you made your way out of the room and towards the stairs.
"Easy now," he murmured as you slowly worked your way down the stairs. He was all but holding you up along each step. "We'll get you down these stairs and you can rest. You are doing good, sweetheart." You were grateful for his support, and focused on keeping your breathing steady to be able to make it all the way down the stairs. Once you finally hit the bottom, you blew out a hard breath and felt a small sense of victory. Angus kissed your temple and gave your waist a squeeze. A gentle and quiet good job without the words. It was a relief and from there, it was easier to make it to the kitchen. Your leg burned and the throb in your head was worsening by the second and you were eager to sit and take the medicine that would help dull those pains.
Angus helped ease you down into the chair and moved to grab the medicine, gathering the few pills that you needed, handing them over. You took them along with the cup of tea that he already had prepared.
"Thank you."
"Welcome, sweetheart." Another kiss to your forehead came and it caused you to close your eyes momentarily, soaking in the affection. You ignored the way that your heart fluttered and your stomach rolled, chalking it up to a result of the pain that you were feeling rather than anything else. It didn't take him all that long to step away and grab the sandwich that he had made for you. Eagerly, you accepted it and began to nibble it. Eating too fast would end up making you sick, something that you had learned.
Angus had a cup of coffee for himself and settled down into the chair next to you, smiling to himself as the soft sounds of music had started upstairs.
"I know she's young…but I was thinking that she might enjoy playing the violin. I read that it is better to start younger than later on." As the soft sounds of the more classic music flowed down the stairs, you hummed against the bite that you had taken. It wasn't a bad idea. There was something on the tip of your tongue, wanting to suggest that you give her the choice between music and sports. Something felt right about that. You had never participated in any sports. So why did the thought come to you? Your brow furrowed, trying to sort out why the thought had come and why it bothered you.
"I think she would enjoy it. You don't think she is too young." He shook his head, pausing as he took a sip of his coffee.
"I think that she would enjoy it. Give her something to focus on, something to learn. It will be good for her, especially since we will be moving." You blinked at the comment.
"Moving?" He reached out and gave your hand a small squeeze.
"We had that discussion the day that you fell down the stairs." You tried to recall anything about the conversation but most of that day was still blank, hazy and out of your grasp. "I know you probably don't remember it. But, the move will be good. It's a better place for us, for her. With all the stuff going on, the break-ins, I know you were worried. Especially when we had those guys hanging around the house a few weeks ago." As much as it annoyed you that you couldn't recall the conversation, you felt that leaving was the right thing to do. So it must have been a decision that you had both made prior to that. Right?
******
You had struggled to help with the move, not able to really carry anything even remotely heavy. Angus had decided to hire a moving company to help you. Not that he wasn't capable but his focus was on getting you and your daughter to the home and settled in. He didn't want you trying to help and overexert yourself. He knew that you would have likely tried to overdo it and cause things to worsen. While a lot of your injuries were healing well, the broken leg still kept you staggered and off kilter.
Everything happened swiftly. The house was packed and being shipped to the new house in the matter of a few days. Angus had you both packed up and in the car, heading over state lines and to the new adventure that awaited you both.
Your daughter was settled into the back, cuddling the stuffed bear and swinging her legs as she looked out of the window, seemed entirely unbothered by the entire fact. It worried you to some degree. Weren't children supposed to not like change? Then again, she had always been an easy child, fairly carefree and unbothered. Maybe you were just overreacting with your own underlying anxieties over the move. A lot could go wrong, there were a lot of moving parts. Angus hardly seemed concerned about any of it, his focus on keeping your two safe and away from any harm that could befall you. Feeling a little paranoid yourself after he had relayed part of the reason for the move, you hadn't wanted to see much of anyone, and were thankful that he had you both loaded up before the movers had truly arrived. All the while, keeping you occupied and out of eye sight when you couldn't leave the house and they were there.
A couple of hours into the drive, you felt your stomach rumble and your leg start up that dull throb. It was time for medicine and food. Before you could voice your thought, the small voice in the back did.
"I'm hungry." You laughed softly.
"You know what, I think I'm hungry too." You looked back at her with a smile and she giggled softly. Then your attention turned to Angus. His eyes glanced towards your daughter in the rear view for a moment before he glanced towards you.
"We will stop in a little bit, okay? I just wanna get a little further." You could practically hear the pout in the backseat. As much as you wanted to stop then, you knew that he would keep to it and continue driving on. If he wasn't going to make you wait another few hours, then you could deal. You reached for one of the few snacks that you had and handed it back to your daughter. She clapped excitedly before taking it. It wouldn't be enough to ruin her appetite but hold her over. The last thing that either of you needed was a whining, complaining child. Angus reached over, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. A silent appreciation and thanks for providing and not arguing. You could understand his desire to put more distance and get to where you were going. It would be easier to just be there than prolong the trip. Especially with a kid.
You went on another hour and a half before he found a place that would work to grab some food.
"All right, we are going to stop and get something to eat. You both ready?" He asked, getting a small cheer from the backseat.
"Sounds like a plan to me. Think I could use something for my leg while we are stopped."
"I got everything right up top. I'll get you what you need as soon as we get some food into you, okay?"
"Thanks, Angus." He pulled the car to a stop and gave you a smile.
"Anything for you, sweetheart." He leaned over and you met him for a soft kiss. You watched with a smile as he slipped from the car and moved to get your daughter first. It took a moment for you to open the door and swing your leg out of the car. Another second before you were able to push to your feet. The car was helpful as you used it to push your weight upward. The leg protested the movement and the weight that it was forced to carry. Fingers flexed against the door and the roof, allowing you to work through the pain before it was more controlled and you could move.
Your daughter grabbed a hold of your hand and Angus shifted to wrap an arm around your waist, helping support your weight. The smell of food made your stomach rumble once more.
Sitting in the small diner, you were hit with a feeling of deja vu. Like you had been seated here before, in this sort of scenario. The name Charlie floated across your mind. Instead of sitting here with Angus, you were sitting with someone else, softly talking and laughing along with your daughter. It felt so visceral, so real. Blinking it away, you heard Angus call out softly for you.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Sort of drifted off a bit there." He was silent for a long moment, eyes focused solely on you. For a moment, the scrutiny felt uncomfortable. Judging, second guessing, trying to make some sort of determination about something that felt heavy. An important moment for a reason that you would never know. You wanted to squirm, to try and shy away from the pressure that suddenly felt like it was on your shoulders. It disappeared as the waitress came over to refill his coffee cup.
"Why don't I go get your medicine? Hm?"
"Yeah, yeah. That would be great. Thank you." He nodded and slipped from the booth to head back to the car. You tried to focus on the drawing that your daughter was making. But, that nagging feeling refused to ease and fade into the background. Your fingers fiddled with the hem of the jacket you were wearing before you felt something. Tugging at the hem of the jacket, folded away in a small hold was a folded piece of paper. It turned out to be a photo.
You, your daughter, and another man sat there in a park, a small patch of trees behind you. Something about it stirred your gut, something that you weren't able to quite place. Someone from your past? While you could have asked Angus about it, there was a tug in your chest at the thought. Something telling you to stay silent about it. Quickly, you folded it back up and tucked it safely back to where you had found it. Thankfully, just in time. Angus appeared several moments later and settled back in after handing you over the medicine that you needed.
"Thank you," you murmured again before taking it. Should you have been? The thought came too late. But then again, why wouldn't you have taken them and trusted Angus? He hadn't been anything but truthful. As far as you could tell. You had seen the marriage certificate, had seen the photos, everything that signaled he had been the one that you had chosen in your life. Why did that now suddenly cause you some distress?
"Why don't get we finished up and get moving? We can get the seat pushed back a bit so we can get you a little more comfortable. Maybe you would be able to get some sleep." That sounded like a good idea. Maybe sleep would help shake those thoughts and worries that were starting to eat at you.
A clawing feeling in your chest began to build. There was a sense of panic, that was what it was, as you grew closer to the car. You tried to keep your breathing steady, not giving any sort of sign that you were having a hard time with things. It wouldn't be fair to Belle or Angus. Your husband. That's right. He was your husband. The man in the picture couldn't have meant anything. it didn't matter that your daughter had some of the man's features. There were ways to explain that away. Tucking your hands into your pockets, you tried to hide the slight shake that had appeared.
As you settled into the car, Angus was still carefully watching you. His fingers brushed through your hair before his hand cupped your cheek gently.
"Just relax and get some sleep, okay? We'll be home in no time and all of this will be behind us."
You nodded, trying to hide the shaky breath that was exhaled. Angus gave you one last look before closing the door and moving to the driver seat. You tried not to think about the photo or the way that the thought of the man in the photo caused some sadness.
********
The thoughts that had circled at the diner had been present for the remainder of the road trip and as you settled into the new home. Nightmares had plagued you night after night along with rolling images that felt more like memories than dreams.
it made you feel like you couldn't settle into the new home. Despite the way that the peaceful atmosphere permeated through the house. The classical music was almost always floating through the air now. Angus had decided to go ahead and get that violin. Belle had been ecstatic about it, promising to practice daily. Something that would surely fall off as the sheen of something new wore off. She was young to be able to do much. Still, you had started to look for someone who might be able to teach her. It wasn't like she was going to get any sort of teaching in school, still too young for that to be a thing.
It was an activity that provided a distraction from the increasing paranoia and worries that were eating away at you. Something wasn't right but you couldn't place any of it. There was no proof that any of those thoughts were right or that anything that Angus said was a lie.
Angus had picked up that something was off, keeping a close eye on you. His hands were almost always on you and there were millions of things to take up time during the day. Since he was home, there was little reprieve from any of it. You weren't sure if you felt grateful for the fact or annoyed. That simple act only served to heighten the frustration. You should have been happy. Belle was flourishing and gaining new friends quickly. There was a gorgeous house that was your new home. Things were going well. Maybe you were trying to self destruct. That was a thing. Maybe you should talk to someone. How to approach Angus about that was an obstacle that you weren't sure you wanted to tackle. Rubbing your forehead, the circling and spiraling thoughts were a useless endeavor.
Finding something to distract you was easier said than done.
Angus had gone out to grab some groceries. It felt like it was the first time that you had been alone in quiet awhile. Moving around the house, you tried ignore the growing headache that pounded against your skull. Nothing pulled your attention, nothing seemed like it was a good enough distraction. Instead, you pulled the picture out of the jacket and stared, trying to connect the dots. Where things didn't line up and why it felt like everything was one big lie. One way or another.
It certainly wasn't the best way to spend your time. Nor was it a good way to keep track of time. You were sitting, staring at the photo, barely aware of the house around you. When the hand clapped down against your shoulder, you jumped in your seat.
"I asked what you had there, Brenda." You blinked, having not heard him enter. The picture was not something that he was meant to see and his eyes had moved down to it. A frown appeared and before you could react, he had ripped it from your hand.
"Angus…"
"Where did you find this?" The tone was soft but unmistakably angry. Far more angry than you had ever heard him. You swallowed, the words getting caught in your throat and unable to provide the answer that he wanted. He slammed down the bag that he had in his hand and turned to you. "Is this what has you so distracted? Ignoring me and Belle?" Ignoring them? You hadn't been doing that. Had you?
He took the lack of your response as an answer enough.
"I thought we were over this." He took a breath but as he turned to face you fully, you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way that his frame was almost a little hunched. You didn't understand what brought about such a sense of anger.
"Over what? Angus, I don't know what you are talking about." He shook his head, pulling a lighter from a drawer and burning the photo over the sink. Before you could think about the action, you jumped to your feet and tried desperately to stop him. The photo was important. You just knew that, instinctively. The reason was beyond you but you knew that you couldn't let him burn it. He smacked your hand away before dropping it. As you tried to turn on the water, Angus grabbed you around the waist and hauled you off of your feet. "What are you doing?!"
"I think it's time for you to rest, sweetheart." That familiar sense of panic that had been rearing it's head came rushing back. You couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Arms and legs flailed without thought as Angus hauled you off towards the stairs. "Keep flailing like that and you are going to hurt yourself again. Your leg isn't healed. Knock it off."
"What is going on?" Charlie. The man had been named Charlie and he meant something. Something incredibly close and personal to your life. Like what you had seen in that hazy memory like thing at the diner.
"You just need some sleep and you will feel better."
"I feel fine, Angus." His arms tightened around you and hauled you up the stairs by passed right by your bedroom, towards the end of the hall. You were at a loss as to what was happening. Fear, genuine fear, was prickling your spine and while he had been right, your leg was aching worse and worse, you continued to try and squirm out of his grasp. While the actions were proving entirely useless, it made you feel better that you weren't simply giving up to whatever was about to happen. He nudged the door open and shifted to be able to get the both of you through the doorway. It was the small storage room for all the things that you hadn't been able to get unpacked just yet. He kicked a few boxes to the side, revealing a small cot that you hadn't known was there. That was the least of your concerns though when you saw a chain attached to the wall, a cuff sitting at the other end. "You don't need to do this. I swear. Come on, Angus. Please. Honey, please." He didn't budge at your pleas, swiping up the cuff and in a struggle with you where you ended up whacking your leg against the wall, ended up getting it on. You whimpered in pain and collapsed down to the cot.
"You know I don't like this, sweetheart. But, it's in your best interest. You'll frighten Belle." He knelt down and brush some of the tears from your cheeks. "I'll be back later with dinner. Right now, you focus on getting some sleep. Okay?" Visions of this happening before suddenly entered your mind. It wasn't the first time that you had been locked up. By him. In the last house, he had kept you held. Charlie. He was dead.
"You killed him…." It was a revelation, a moment of clarity that broke through the convoluted reality that had become your world.
"I didn't do anything. Now, get some sleep." He stepped back and left the room, locking the door behind him, leaving you equally trapped in here even if you managed to get out of the cuff.
*************
Your eyes felt gritty and your mouth dry. The room spun around you when you attempted to open them, a heavy wave of nausea hitting hard. It looks several seconds to pass, your eyes squeezed tightly shut against the onslaught of sensations. The throb in your leg was present, so much worse than it had been in a few weeks. Overall, muscles ached and protested any movement. A few slow breaths helped the nausea pass by and slowly, you risked opening your eyes. The room was darker than expected. Quiet.
It took a few more minutes of building up courage and trying to force your body into submission before you were able to drag yourself into a seated position. There was only a little bit of room spinning associated with the movement and the nausea nowhere near as bad. Small blessings and all of that. You stayed stable for a few moments, trying to ensure that the feelings wouldn't worsen the next time you moved. Just as you felt ready to attempt standing, the door creaked open.
"Brenda, sweetheart, you're up." The soothing tone of Angus's voice filled the room. It eased the pressure in your chest but seemed to make the dull headache that you felt worse. With the small amount of light streaming into the room, you were able to notice that your vision was just a bit blurry, erring on the side of fuzzy. In that split second, it felt like you were supposed to be mad at Angus. For something. What it was refused to be recalled. Had he ruined something? It was a like an itch in your brain that couldn't be scratched. "You had a bad reaction to the new pain medication that they put you on." Vaguely, you felt like you could recall the doctor saying something about that, the coolness of a room pressing down on you and an uncomfortable bed beneath you. That had to mean a hospital. It had all those times in the past. That had to be why your head was hurting and the pain in your leg was worse. Taking you off the medication that had been meant to help probably also meant receiving nothing else for a bit.
"My head hurts," you managed to croak out, lifting a hand to press some fingers to your temple as if it could alleviate the pain and then pressing them into your eyes. Your mouth felt like a desert.
"Drink this." His voice had softened and he pressed a glass of something cool into your free hand. One small sip was taken to ensure it didn't immediately come back up. Then a few gulps. "Doctor should be by in a little bit. May be a new city but I still had a few favors from the force that I was able to call in." The care brought a small smile to your face. "We'll get through this. Like we always do."
Like we always do. It felt wrong, like a bad taste left behind by something you had expected to enjoy. Fuzzy memories played like hazed film in your mind. Fighting with Angus. Being upset over something. Being.. locked up? No. That didn't seem right. Angus took good care of you and Belle. Always had. He wouldn't intentionally hurt you. Surely, that sort of feeling wouldn't be wrong. Even so, your stomach churned and the image of you swinging at him with a pipe flashed before your eyes. The warmth of his hand against the back of your neck hardly did anything to soothe the tidal waves of conflicting emotions that whirled through you. You hunched over a little more, both an attempt to alleviate the cramping that rolled through your stomach, the sort that threatened in equal measure to the bile rising in your throat, and to shift away from the touch without the need for any sort of excuse. You needed a moment.
As you got sick, a bucket appeared in front of you, ensuring no mess ended up on the floor. Everything seemed to want to cramp at once as your stomach clenched and emptied itself over and over again. There was nothing to bring up but it still forced acid and bile upward. You groaned as your throat burned, unaware of anything else in that moment.
"Aw, sweetheart," Angus cooed gently before helping you settle back onto the bed in a reclined position. "I got some soup almost ready from you. Take another small sip of this water, okay? I know you probably don't want to but it's gonna help clear that taste." There was something chemical, not just burning acid that lingered in your mouth. But, in that moment, you couldn't give it much though. Not with the pain throbbing in your leg, the cramping of multiple muscles, the throbbing in your head that only worsened with each breath, and the burn in your throat. His hand pressed to your forehead before brushing some hair back from your face. An action meant to be soothing and you found yourself closing your eyes at the action. Breath slowed almost unconsciously. "That's it. Just relax for me. We'll get Belle all set up here and the two of you watching some movies."
Something you always did if one of you wasn't feeling well. That was concrete. Nodding slowly so that you didn't end up making the nausea worse.
"The doctor will be here soon and I'll make sure that he knows that your stomach is this bad." He brushed more hair from your forehead before pressing a kiss to the skin. That pressure in your chest began to settled, his presence still feeling a little stifling but less aggressive and less, well you weren't sure about the word but maybe threatening? You reached out and grabbed a hold of his hand, warring with yourself momentarily. Did you ask him to stay? Would it be better if he went? The indecision and pull of different emotions was overwhelming and you felt the tears welling, throat constricting for an entirely different reason. Belle couldn't see you crying. You had to get things together.
"Thank you," you murmured softly. What that thank you was for wasn't exactly clear but the words had slipped nonetheless. You felt another kiss pressed to the top of your head, and the gentle curve of his lips. Something about it felt odd but you shoved those sensations away in favor of remaining calm and as composed for your daughter as possible.
"I'll be back shortly, sweetheart. Just try to relax until then." It took a second for your brain to make your body cooperate, fingers releasing their hold on his.
"Okay." You kept your eyes closed. It was easier. The throb in your head was ever present but seemed to ease off just slightly when you had no vision of your surroundings. Just a migraine. Surely just a migraine.
******
You woke with a start. Sweat beaded your forehead and dripped down your neck. The dreams had been odd at best. Clips of memories and things that certainly weren't your own. Like one of those weird situations in dreams where it feels so real but you know that it wasn't. The house creaked and shifted as thunder boomed overhead, rain beginning to patter against the window. Lightning filled the dark room around you and you shuddered slightly. It was just a storm. Almost at the same time, the gentle swell of Belle's music filtered through the room. Trust your girl to be working on her music still. It brought a smile to your face and while the remnants of the headache lingered, it was enough to be ignored as you were reminded of the passion that she had. How driven she was. How successful she was going to be. Her genuine enjoyment of it was infectious.
With a sigh, you slipped from the bed and took a moment to ensure that you were steady on your feet. It was best to find Angus. Make sure that there was nothing that needed to be done for the storm. And to make sure that he had finished up dinner. By now, they had likely eaten, and that was fine by you.
You wanted to shake the dreams off as quickly as possible. There was no point in dwelling on the things that your mind had conjured up. Angus and Belle were the ones that you needed to focus on and you knew that it would make you feel better. Maybe it was time to mention to the doctor that you needed a tweak in your medication. Angus might have some input. Or he would tell you not to worry about it. That was an entirely real possibility.
Another rumble if thunder got you moving, though you didn't have to go far, stepping out of the door onto to be greeted by your husband. Giving him a smile, you didn't say anything right away, opting to pull him into a hug. He chuckled lowly but wrapped his arms around you without any protest.
"It's okay, sweetheart." You hummed before pulling back just enough to look up at him.
"Sorry. Just some bad dreams to go along with the storm." His smile faltered a bit at that, one hand pressed to your lower back, moving up and down soothingly. Eyes stared into yours, now sharpened eith a focus that you hadn't seen much since he had retired. Or was trained on protecting Belle. It gave you pause for just a second, those feelings from the dreams seemingly still lingering.
"You wanna talk about it?" His voice was still soft, encouraging but there was a hint of worry that slipped underneath it all.
"One of those things were it's like you are two different people, ya know? Things that feel real but you know aren't. Everything is so vivid and visceral but in the end it is just a dream. Where you wake up still feeling what had happened. We even got into this weird fight. It was like I didn't know you." It felt weird to say aloud, and you almost felt foolish for even attempting to explain. What had seemed like a good idea juat moments ago now seemed like something you should have entirely ignored. It was out in the open now though.
"Sounds like a nightmare." The words caused the smallest of smiles to break. The short answer was exactly what should have been expected. As good of a caretaker as he was, there were times you wondered if he really understood emotion. But then, he did something silly or thoughtful and you forgot all about those things.
"Yeah, felt like it too." You let out a small sigh and shook your head. "Rather forget all about it. Did you need any help with the windows with that storm picking up?"
"No. Got everything all handled already. Why don't we go watch a movie while Belle practices." You nodded and allowed him to lead you towards the stairs, finding the idea of a movie a good distraction from the odd dreams that you had.
Got four fics queued up for release and another two currently halfway done. Not sure where this burst of inspiration is coming from or how long it will last. Running with it.
Queued:
Part 4 of Monsters in Plain Sight (Ptis x Werewolf reader)
Sequel to my Michael Myers fic Blood Magic
Angus Finn x reader (KnifeCorp)
Carnage/Cletus Kasady (from the comics) & OFC
Currently in progress this very second:
Sequel to Job Opportunites ft Sheriff Howard Rotter
Pairing: Howard Rotter x Original Female Character
Word Count: 2.235
Warning: Coroners without ethics? Really nothing too serious here.
Author's Note: I live. Writing has been sporadic and difficult over the last few months but the lovely Richard Brake has brought about some new ideas and unlocked a bit of the block. Admittedly, haven't seen these movies in their entirety, but this would take place before the actual trilogy. There is a decent amount of background here to build up. More to come that gets into the actual movies. That Angus fic is being worked on still. Not beta read. As always, likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are what feed the muses and keeps the writing coming.
Venus, Oregon. Quiet. Surrounded by peaceful woods. Rustic like a lot of old time logging communities. Old school main street with all the business of the town. Population just under five hundred people. Pleasant atmosphere with those that were willing to help and friendly to outsiders. It fit that idyllic small town picture that most had. Before she had received the phone call, Rebecca wouldn't have been able to point out Venus on a map, let alone confirm that it was a real town in the Pacific Northwest. There had been no intention of landing in such a small town. She had gained her MD in the hopes of landing in a bigger city. A place where she could be plenty busy but stay under the radar since there was plenty of other things to focus on. After school, she had gotten her first job down in Florida. Not quite in any of the big cities but close to where she ultimately wanted to be. Gaining the hands on experience was important, that was something that she had reminded herself of when it felt like she was stuck.
The call had come from a man that she had immense respect for, someone that she had worked with while at school as he had been a guest lecturer for one of her classes. Charles Holm. He had been kind and more than giving during the class. Always ready to answer a question and spend some extra time with a student who may need it or just wanted to pick his brain. He was a talented pathologist, and had been on track for some genuine achievements before he had moved to the northwest and went fairly quiet. A chance to learn from the man was something that anyone would have jumped at. Rebecca didn't let the chance slip through her fingers. There weren't many people that her found herself getting along with or growing attached to and yet Dr. Holm had been one of them.
The man had even offered her a place to stay when he realized that she was trying to get herself through medical school while living out of a motel and her car. No steady to place to call home and no support system. Nothing but pure intention, something that hadn't been common in her life.
His offer had been more than generous. He had known that it wasn't where she wanted to end up and done his best to up sell everything about the town and the position. There was a sense that she owed him something after everything he had done for her. The plan was for Charles to retire and that vision included moving. That meant that his property, both the home and the land that it sat on was up for sale, fully furnished. The land that he owned was far more than Rebecca had ever expected or could have hoped to ever own. In addition, there had been the promise of good hunting grounds, with wild boar being enough of a problem that it was more or less open season all year long. The price that he was asking was more than reasonable and the salary more than decent for the small town. He had said that the cherry on the cake was that she would be her own boss. It wasn't exactly the faceless job that she had wanted to get lost in but there was no denying that the job was good and the opportunity was even better. It would look great on a resume that she was running an office not long after being out of school if she decided to leave after a few years.
So, Rebecca had agreed, packed up her meager belongings, and headed northwest. The drive gave her time to reflect, second guess, and come to terms with the fact that she was uprooting what little life she had managed to build without much issue.
By the time that she had arrived in Venus, she had made peace with the decision. Small towns all ran with a similar flow. Some overdoses, some animal attacks, the occasional actual murder. Most of the time, it was an easy position to find oneself in. There could really be no complaint. The surrounding towns that she may have done work for would end up the same.
Charles greeted her as if she was an old friend and in some way, she supposed she was. The warmth was welcomed instead of rebuked. He had toured her around the house. It was utterly gorgeous. A rustic cabin a little deeper into the woods than he had let on but it hardly was a bother. Appliances were modern, the plumbing and heating had been redone within the last five years, and there was a garage that could double as a work space. A place that could truly be home. Permanent. Comfortable. All her own. It caused a warmth to fill her chest, tension releasing that she had not entirely been aware that she had carried.
He had laid out a map and explained the boundaries of the land that was now going to be hers, and then took her to the office. The facility was more modern than what had been anticipated or what the anesthetic of the small town would have suggested. Something older wold have been find by you. Keeping your head down, doing your job, and staying out of trouble was really all that you wanted. Gain the experience, make it look good for the resume, and maybe move on in a few years unless you really found roots here.
From there, it had been a rapid pace deal. Paperwork signed, clearance given, and things were settled before she truly had a chance to breath or explore the town. A new job, a house of her own, and a location where anonymity was her friend, despite the setting. She was a little off kilter that Charles had already moved everything out and wasn't messing around with the time table. He had wished her luck with all the warmth of a grandfather, giving her a tight hug and promising to keep in touch, but that was it. He was gone and she was on her own.
There wasn't a traditional work week per se, given that she was it. But, she had chosen Monday to be her first day in the office. There was little expectation for what the day would hold. It proved rather slow and uneventful after the first two hours and that was perfectly find with her. It gave time to go over previous case files, learn where things were, how the systems worked, and the name of the local department with whom she would be working with. The department was well staffed all things considered, with six different employees from the looks of it, with the Sheriff being one Howard Rotter. The name stood out as being the most common in the reports. Not unusual for small towns.
Relaxing in the office with the door open, coffee in a thermos to keep it warm, the small radio in the corner turned on to let a soft sound drift through, Rebecca was pouring over a few of the case files that she had laid out on the desk. It was hard to ignore some of the patterns that stood out, oddities that probably should have been glaring but had been carefully curated and hidden. Things that added up to everything not exactly being on the level. It came as a little surprise to Rebecca, given what she had known of Charles, but perhaps that was why he had been so keen on getting the deal done and getting out of the area. Those little nagging things that she had chosen to ignore were coming into more of a clarity. Had she not worked with Charles and read some of his other work, she might not have picked it out as easily. Or maybe it was just that she had always been good at seeing patterns. That was why he had brought her here. Either she would understanding and get along or become a sacrificial lamb. A risk that he had been willing to take because he knew her stubbornness, he knew that survival instincts would kick in and she would refuse to become a sacrificial lamb. He had known before she had even seen anything what her choice would be.
She had just let out a little laugh when a knock on the door pulled her from the moment. Meant to draw attention without truly startling. Standing in the door way was a man in uniform, an easy smile on his face. Bright blue eyes were the first thing that really caught her attention. Perhaps a little older than her. Not conventionally attractive but there was something about him that drew her in.
"So, you're the new doc in town. Sort of thought that I would have to bring you to the office." Rebecca offered a smile, closing the file that she had been studying and stood up. Good first impressions for the sake of having a good working relationship was necessary. She held out her hand.
"That would be me. Rebecca Stone. Nice to meet you."
"Howard Rotter, sheriff here in Venus." He nodded towards the desk, clearly meaning the files that were opened to already closed cases. "What are you doing there?"
"Thought it would be a good idea to go through some previous cases and get a grasp on what typically comes through. Every place as different expectations and different normals. If I have an idea of what to expect and what is typical, than I'll know what might stand out a little more. What sort of animal attacks are common. What sort of overdoses are typical. That sort of thing." The shift in the man was almost instant.
"Clever." The air was charged, tension almost immediately suffocating the room. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand and realized that perhaps it hadn't been the right thing to say given what she had noticed. But it was the truth and there wasn't any sort of good explanation to be going through old case files anyway. Nothing else that wouldn't flare suspicion. The hard look that he was giving her wasn't just someone from a small town analyzing an outsider. It was true calculation. Treading carefully from there would be necessary. Those survival instincts that Charles had counted on kicked in, just as the apathy she tended to have for most flared. There was a reason that she had opted to work with dead people after all, and it wasn't just to speak for the dead like so many medical examiners and coroners loved to say. Looking the other way and falling in line wouldn't cause you to lose any sleep. if someone went back through and found out, it could cause some issues with a career move. If you stayed? Well, maybe you could have a retirement like Charles one day. Ending up a disappearance in the woods was not how she wanted to go out.
"Saw a lot of animal attacks where I had been down in Florida. Rash of bear, plenty of gator, some snake. Seems much the same here, just a different set of predators. Mixed with the bears of course." She leaned against the desk a bit and shrugged. Not bothered and it wasn't just an act. "Heard there was decent hunting up here in the surrounding forest, so it makes sense that there would be some apex predators that look for a good meal. Read about what to expect from the wildlife before I got here. And honestly, between you and me, the longer things with electronics and such go on, the less people really seem to understand not only how to be in the woods but how to keep themselves safe from such things." He shifted where he had been leaning against the door frame and gave a nod. Hopefully, it was an acceptance rather than some sort of ultimate decision.
"Well, it's almost lunch time. Why don't I treat you to some food over at Carol's. Consider it a welcome from the town of Venus." It felt genuine but then again, those that were corrupt were the best at hiding things. Still, turning down the offer wouldn't look good either. Rebecca found herself in a situation where she really didn't have a choice. She was hungry and building a repertoire with the man with be important if she wanted to be able to maintain the position and her ability to breath. She had made the choice and now, it was a wait game to see if those in control would end up accepting her into the fold. Hopefully, Charles word counted for something and her own comments would be enough to prove that she could handle it.
"That's a generous offer, Sheriff. I've heard that Carol's has the best cherry pie. Got a little sweet tooth, so I don't think I can turn down the opportunity. Lunch would be lovely."
"I'll drive." It was a step towards a fate that would be sealed. Rebecca recognized it and accepted it for whatever would come. Grabbing her jacket, she followed the Sheriff outside and towards whatever it was that awaited her.
Author's note: A little fic based off the request I had received from an anon wanting Rusty with a sweet reader who had no idea he was a killer. Hope it's liked! As always, not beta read. Mistakes are my own. Likes are appreciated, but reblogs and comments help keep muse alive and me writing more.
Tagging: @umnitsa
The house was relatively quiet, only the soft subtle music flowing from the kitchen filling the nooks and crannies that had been cold and void of any life. Floating through the entire house was the sweet scent of freshly baked cookies. You hummed gently to the music as you finished putting what remaining dough you had into a cookie sheet before the one that was in the oven needed to be pulled out. Rusty was supposed to be home today and you had wanted to make sure that he had a nice homecoming. He had been out on the road for what felt like forever but in reality was only about a week and a half.
His job was hard. Constantly being out on the road was draining, mentally and physically. It was why you always like to try and make sure that he had something nice to greet him when he walked through the door. A homemade meal or sweets, a warm cup of his favorite coffee, and a gentle smile.
You had spent all day in the kitchen, making a handful of different cookies after you had gotten some homemade bread done. The idea behind it was that you could have enough time to get the cookies and a meal done for him. Oh, what they said about the best laid plans. The cookies had taken longer than anticipated, meaning you were far behind on the plans for the meal. While you knew he wouldn't mind, it still felt like a letdown, leaving you disappointed with yourself. Nothing could be done about it now. You pulled the finished tray out of the oven and popped the last one in. With that set aside to cool before you attempted to move them. Now, you could finally focus on the dinner. Just in time for the front door to open. You closed your eyes, letting out a small sigh. Maybe he could take a nice hot shower and by the time he was finished, dinner could be ready.
Pushing off your own feelings, you wiped your hands on a rag at the same time that you moved towards the door. He was toeing off his boots already, looking like he needed some relaxing.
“Smells good in here.” The low rumbling timber of his voice jolted you out of your thoughts. Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks at having been caught off guard. Moving forward, you leaned up at the same time he leaned down so a kiss could be placed on his cheek.
“I may have made a few of your favorites as a welcome home,” you offered gently, hands moving to his chest. Frowning, you felt a hole that hadn't been there before. In fact, now that you were close, you noticed that his jacket was entirely different. You hoped that nothing bad had happened that had caused it. That was not the thing to focus on right now. You pushed any worries down, knowing that he would talk about it if he wanted. If not, well, you trusted him to handle whatever it was. The truck could have had an issue, and the jacket could have been ruined. It could have been caught on something while they were loading or unloading the truck. Maybe it got covered in something that he just couldn't clean thanks to some small, no-name, disgusting hotel. There were a million different reasons, and not all of them revolved around him getting hurt. His hands gave your hips a squeeze, pulling you back to the present rather than the stray thoughts that had nearly taken over. "I was just getting started on dinner." Rusty was all smiles and soft touches, as he often was after time on the road, and it was something you were more than happy to indulge in and reciprocate.
"You didn't have to do that, darling." He always reminded you. But, you knew he ended up enjoying every second.
"I know. I wanted to. You deserve it after being on the road." Your hands massaged his chest softly, rubbing against the soft material. "Did you want to shower, or I can get you your favorite cup of coffee, and you can sit on the couch to relax while I finish up." It was a fifty fifty shot on which he would choose. Sometimes he went for getting clean, other times he went for the relaxing and unwinding. He hummed softly, and you couldn't help yourself as you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his chest. If only to feel the rumble of that hum.
"Why don't I give ya a hand?" You laughed softly. No, he wouldn't exactly help but distract.
"Come on. You can do some taste testing instead." You grinned as you grabbed one of his hands in both of your own at first for a small squeeze before bringing him to the kitchen. There was no better feeling than his eyes on you, warm and heavy. It made you feel like you were the only one in the world, the only thing that mattered. The smile that appeared was well worth all the work.
"You really outdid yourself this time, sweetheart. Were you looking to feed an army?" Maybe you had gone a little overboard, but he deserved it.
"Nope. Just one man who has been on the road too long and likely survived off things that barely constitute as food." It took a second to make sure he sat but once he did, you moved to grab a plate of one of everything that you had made, five types of cookies in total, before setting it down in front of him and grabbing a drink.
"Things quiet while I was gone?" The question always came and typically not long after he had gotten home. His hand snagged your waist before you could walk away. The immediate response? One hand moved to rub at his shoulders and his neck, a gentle affection meant to help ease any remaining tension as he enjoyed his small treats. Dinner would have to wait a few moments.
"They always are. Oh!" You were reluctant to pull away, but it was necessary. Another quick kiss to his cheek had you free of his grip. "I have something to show you." He chuckled, the sound pleasant to the ears and filling you with a sense of accomplishment and joy. The I'll be right back went unspoken as you hurried off to the closet in the hallway. This surprise was something that had been worked on quietly for months each and every time he had been on the road. It had been a task to keep it a secret, but you knew it would be well worth it in the end.
"Where did you scurry off to?" He called out. It took a second for you to gather the surprise before heading back.
"I hope you like it…" A sudden rush of insecurity filled your chest. Rusty had been nothing but kind and complimentary towards your endeavors. Even when you knew they fell short. It shouldn't be any different this time.
"If it's from you, I'm sure I'll love it." His brow furrowed as he caught sight of the large blanket you were toting back. "Now, what's all this?"
"Well, it's a blanket that I made for you. Figured you could either bring it with you when you are on the road or if you wanted to keep it here. It doesn't really matter." His expression softened further, the smile that crossed his lips undeniable.
"You are something else," he murmured and reached out to pull you close once more before beginning to inspect the blanket. "Gotta be the luckiest guy in the world." Heat rose to your cheeks. He was the sweetest man. "Ain't nothing better than coming home to you." This time, the kiss was pressed to your lips, soft and sweet, with a hint of the lingering need that underlined it all.
"I'm glad you like it."
"Like it? I love it, darling. It's one of the nicest things that I've ever been given." Another few kisses were peppered against your cheek and to your lips, bringing a giggle out of you.
"I gotta make dinner," you laughed out between the kisses.
"All right." His fingers lingered against you a few extra seconds before finally relinquishing their hold. The freedom allowed you to step back, carefully placing the blanket against one of the chairs, as you planned on what to make that wouldn't take forever. The entire time, you could feel the comforting weight of his gaze and could not stop smiling. As much as he loved being home, you loved having him home more.
Hi!! I've recently been on a major Joy Ride kick and there isn't enough content for Rusty! Can you please write what you think he'd be like with a really sweet partner?
To be more specific, they don't know that Rusty's a serial killer and they're really affectionate, basically spoiling him with attention and baked goods whenever he's home.
I love your works sm!!! Thank you for reading my request.
- 🕸️ Anon
Thank you very much for the request 🕸anon! I appreciate you reaching out with it. There certainly is not enough Rusty content out there. I am glad to be able to provide. This request spawned a little fic first but I thought it would work well as a means of posting my first headcanons. Two for the price of one!
As always: Not beta read, mistakes are my own. Likes are appreciate but reblogs and comments keep the muse alive.
While sweet, there was a certain innocence and naivety to you. Untouched by the horrors of the world. That was what first drew Rusty to you.
You were different from everything he typically encountered. The sort of break that he needed in his life. He had decided to keep you before you had even known of his existence.
Rusty preferred to keep you as innocent as possible, which meant hiding all of his activities from you. You were barred from going into the barn. He explained it as dangerous for you given all the machinery and old equipment. You took the lie without question and obeyed the request.
Doesn't ever want you finding out about what he does on the road. Or be exposed to those sort of people. Makes sure that business never enters the house by any means necessary.
Possessive. Without a doubt. Rarely lets you leave the house on your own. He has to accompany you. It's under the guise of ensuring you had the help you needed. Again, you don't question it.
Constantly has some sort of hand on you, or his body all but plastered to yours when you are out. No one will dare to get close. Not on his watch.
Hates it when you talk with others on those trips. Basically willing to do anything to distract you, cut the conversation short, and move you along.
Happily the guinea pig for any and all baking experiments. Even the ones that are barely edible, which is rare. Sweet about it the entire time with compliments and praise.
Same thing with your cooking. Will devour anything set in front of him. He has his favorites and his heart does melt a bit when you take notice and make those more often.
The first time you make a cup of coffee for him, it's perfect and completely catches him off guard. He didn't tell you how he liked it. It's such a small detail and yet showed your level of care that he is entirely smitten with you all over again. No one has ever bothered to take such care.
At the same time, he reminds you not to over do it and take it easy. He doesn't expect it and wants you to take care of yourself. Even though he never says no when you say you are cooking or baking.
Southern gentleman and yet will allow himself to be pampered. You wanna run him a hot shower after he's been on the road? He won't complain. You made sure his jacket was shown up from a tear? He will make sure to thank you in whayever way you appreciate best. His laundry is done, despite the suspicious stains you never ask about? Man will make sure to run you a hot bath in return.
Free with his affection when he is home with you, showering you in it. Matches the enthusasism that you show for it yourself. The only time he ever feels guilty about being on the road is when he has to leave you.
He adores when you allow him to sprawl out on the couch, with his head in your lap and run your fingers through his hair. It's one of the most relaxing things in the world to him.
Finds out that you love cuddling up to him when watching movies. He makes sure there is always a blanket near by. When he is on the road, he makes sure to leave one of his worn in flannels for you. All little things he would have never thought of before you.
Never does a complaint pass his lips about you being affectionate or clingy. He is happy to hang you pressed against him, hanging onto him, or fluttering around him. The only exception being if he has work to do in the barn.
Ends up getting a guard dog to help keep watch over you when he isn't there. You find it silly since you live in the middle of nowhere but humor him about it since he is so serious.
There was a time when home was a small sanctuary and one that he enjoyed but the pull of the road was far more. As time went on, he enjoyed being out there more than being home. But knowing that he was coming home to you? There was a genuine excitement that bubbled up. A sense of peace knowing he was going home to a well cooked meal and your gentle affection. It put a sense of right into the world and made all the work he put it worth it.
Ultimately: Rusty soaks up every ounce of affection and care that you give him. He's protective and possessive over you, willing to keep you as safe and guarded from the rest of his life as possible.
Update to the character list of who is being added and who is being removed:
Removed: Ethan Belfage, Dr. Richard Sommers, Lawrence O'Neill,O'Reilly, John Sheperd, Cole Bennett, Cylus Atkinson, Raymond Crowe, Jim, Chase Harper
Added:
Tyler Mane characters: Crimson Matthews, Michael Wolffsen, John, RJ Firefly, Andrew Woodsman
Kane Hodder characters: Angus Finn, Jon Roy, Victor Crowley, Sheriff Sickle, Cody,
Derek Mears characters: Hawes, Chissolm, Chameleon, Mr. Elliot
Kyle Gallner characters: Drew, Alex Jacobs, Emmett, Joel
Additional: Travis Hackett, Bones Slaughter, Lucas Baker, Jack Baker, David Powers, Gier Olac Brath, Paul Duerson, Butcher Slater, Roger Bladecut, Viktor Frankenstein, Madison, Patrick "Paddy" Feld, Cooper Abbott, Player 2, Alias, The Other, The Jester
Warnings: Loss of sight, this entire movie? Not much else this go around honestly
Author's note: This is a follow up to my previous witch reader one-shot featuring Mayor Buckman. Far more fluffy this time around. Not beta read, mistakes are my own. Likes are appreciate but reblogs and comments keep the muse alive.
Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta
Mishaps, accidents, and fallouts were an inescapable part of life. Even the best laid plans could turn sideways and upside down without warning. Instances like that were even more common when one was involved with the supernatural. You did everything that you possibly could to minimize the risk and consequence when and where possible. That sort of planning had a habit of working in your favor, leading you to avoid the larger sort of consequences. Negative results and fallouts were often nonconsequential. Part of you knew and had to acknowledge that it was perhaps nothing more than a string of luck that had led to it. Something that you felt a bit blessed to have if anyone were to ask.
There were those times where it did go sideways and did not work out the way that you had wished. When shit did hit the proverbial fan, you had always been on your own to deal with it and find a way to move on from the damage. All before you had shown up to Pleasant Valley a few months late and had come across all of the locals.
The catalyst to the incident hadn't seemed like much at first. A few people were wandering through Pleasant Valley. Not unusual and not something that hadn't been dealt with many, many times over. Whether they were led by yourself or happened to stumble upon the town themselves. The latter was considered a fortunate event and easy work. Semantics that you never really bothered with and were never at the forefront of your mind really.
Since your arrival and the way that a pattern had been established in the way that you and the spirits had been feeding off one another's energies, they were corporal far more often than they weren't. More people wandering around, the more chances they had to see to it that the unjust blood debt was repaid and they were able to rest in peace. The kill count had risen fast over the last few months since you had found a home in the seemingly quant little town.
The people wandering around this time were not college kids or wayward vacationers that had taken a wrong turn. That was the first problem. Apparently, your actions had been enough to attract the sort of attention from the wrong kind of people that you took every measure to avoid. A set of hunters had come looking for you. How they had caught wind of you? That was a mystery but they had arrived and were looking to wipe your existence from the map. These individuals were very different from what the town of Pleasant Valley were used to dealing with. They were smart. They were prepared. They weren't about to be caught off guard by the usual antics. A situation that Buckman and those cursed to walk the grounds had not come across and didn't really know how to deal. They could be violent and ruthless when the moment called for it, yes, but things often worked out in their favor in terms of ease. While the residents were incapable of being injured anymore, you were not so lucky.
The fight hadn't been pleasant. Downright vicious would have been an accurate way to describe it. Wounding them hadn't been easy as they had been ready for most of your tricks. But you had managed. It only caused their resolve to double down, as it often did when hunters found the deck stacked against them. Each blow was returned, damage dealt in turn. It left you battered, bloodied, bruised, and exhausted. If you hadn't been in the town with the extra boost of energy, they likely would have succeeded. They almost did as it was. If it hadn't been for Rufus's timely intervention, there would have been harm done that you would not have been able to recover from; narrowly avoiding being skewered through the chest. As bad as the physical damage that had been done, it was the magical damage.
A rebounded hex of your very own had blasted you right in the face. You hadn't expected them to be able to shield themselves from the hex but it had happened. It was by dumb luck alone that you had not sent anything meant to maim or kill in that moment. Instead, you were left with next to almost no eyesight. A position that was far too vulnerable to be comfortable.
You certainly weren't used to the fact that there were others looking out for your wellbeing and willing to help when you needed it. But things had changed. Something that you had never been more grateful for from the moment that you had woken up. Soft words and a freshly brewed cup of tea had greeted you when you came back to the world of the living. Buckman's southern twang was gentle, though your brain could hardly grab onto what he was saying right away.
Every inch of your body hurt. That quickly became secondary though when you realized that you couldn't entirely see. Blurs, shapes, barely discernible colors. Buckman had been one giant, mostly grey blob sitting beside you.
“Easy there, buttercup. You still with us?” You avoided rubbing your eyes by the skin of your teeth. It would simply make what limited vision that you had worse. While you knew that the hex would eventually wear off, and could be helped along with some carefully brewed teas, it didn't stop the second of panic that built in your chest. “Patched you up the best that we could. It's been a bit since anyone's needed to do it.” Firm hands helped you get into a seated position. “How are ya feeling?”
“Like I've been tossed about and trampled by a bunch of horses.” It was an honest response. You didn't feel the need to try and hide it. There wasn't an inch of you that didn't hurt. You felt pain in places that you didn't know that you had muscles. You could almost hear the frown in his voice.
“Well, nothing for you to worry about right now besides resting in this bed until you are feeling back to yourself.” The shadow that passed in front of your face made you flinch. This time? You heard the reaction that came from the man. It demanded an explanation or he was going to fret.
“I can't…” You swallowed. Even knowing it was okay, the admission was still hard. “I can't exactly see right now.”
“Whadda ya mean you can't exactly see?” The darkness got closer before gentle fingers against your chin turned your head. You knew what he would see. The red would be obvious as it rimmed your eyelids accompanied by a low red haze that would cover your entire eye. The hex had been one of your own creations. It had been meant to throw someone off and leave them defenseless, which it had certainly done. Just not in the manner intended. You had always intended for it to be used as a method of escaping without having to kill someone. Occasionally such moments came up.
“I don't know what those men had but the hex I used rebounded right to me.”
“Is it permanent?”
“No.” You almost shook your head but didn't feel like dislodging the soft touch. It was far too soothing to the nerves that were raw and frayed after nearly dying. Was it your first near death encounter? No. But that didn't make it any easier to deal with. Less so with how you were feeling. “It will wear off but it will take awhile. Two weeks, roughly. Less if I am able to make some teas….”
********************
You hadn't needed to ask for more from that moment on. Granny Boone had been happy to brew teas. Buckman was there, spending a decent amount of time at your side. Whether it was helping you move, giving you the teas, or simply reading to you to help pass the time. You were thankful for his presence. When he wasn’t or couldn't be for one reason or another, Rufus or Huckleberry would be the errand boys.
As anticipated, your vision was slow to clear up, but it did clear up. LIttle by little. It was the most that you had laid around in a long time, years really. And you were feeling a little antsy a week in. You felt that you knew the town well enough to be able to walk around without your sight intact but Buckman was having none of it and apparently, your appeals to Granny Boone fell on deaf ears.
It was a moment of consequences be damned that had you up and at the door when it opened.
“Now, just what do you think you're doing, missy?” Caught and you hadn't even made it out of the door. Now, that was just embarrassing. Given the amused sound that left the man next, your look must have been a cross between embarrassed and sheepish. The look had meant to be apologetic. Before you could say anything though, a gentle touch was guiding your hand. The familiar soft touch of the fabric of his coat. Your arm was through his.
“I know you're getting restless, buttercup.” A sympathetic pat to your hand. “That's why we're getting ya outta this room.” Your eyes instinctively shot in his direction. The blob was a little more defined today than it had been but still, it was far more silhouettes and shapes than anything discernable.
“What?” A chuckle was given. He sounded far too pleased with himself.
“Don't sound so surprised. Ya might offend me.” All a tease. He led you carefully out of the room and into the surprisingly pleasant warm air of the southern fall. The sun directly on your skin was warming, practically feeling like heaven. Even as ridiculous as it felt in the seconds after, you found yourself closing your eyes and soaking in the feeling. Buckman paused, giving you the moment needed to appreciate the feeling. “All right, come on then. We got a little walk before getting to where we need to go.”
*********************
He was considerate the entire walk, making sure to keep you close so you didn't knock into anything. He didn't let anyone run into you either and made sure you were steered clear of any trip hazards along the way. The gentle breeze was pleasant against your skin and the sun felt like heaven after a week cooped up in bed. Buckman was quiet beside you, for the most part. There was a soft hum that came from him. Enough that it was clear and made you smile.
“Now, just gonna need you to stand right there for just one moment.” He pulled away as you gave a nod to show you understood.
“Got it.” Colors were more clear than they had been and you could make out enough to tell that he had led you to the fields. A bit out from the rear of the town. Peaceful. Quiet. A spot that you both were likely to not be bothered at.
“Sit right on down for me, buttercup. Nice and easy.” There was no need for him to help you down but the man wouldn't let you brush off his help. “Got one of your teas right here. Granny brewed it right before we left.”
“Thank you.” He pressed the mug into your hands, making sure your fingers had a good grasp before moving about once more. “You didn't need to do this. Not that I'm not appreciative. Clearly, I was crawling the walls… I just know you have other things that you need to see after.” You took a sip of the tea and hummed softly.
“Don't you go starting any of that,” he chided, taking a spot right next to you. A sigh that sounded like some relief came from him. Buckman was a busy man, the entire town dead or not. The responsibility fell on his shoulders. All of it. From making sure victims were lured in, to ensuring that they all made it to their final resting place. As fun loving and lively as he was, you knew that it wore on him. “We both needed a little rest. You needed outta that bed and I needed a break from those boys.” The comment brought a laugh. You knew he loved his sons but they certainly were a handful at times.
“Well, I have to thank you, anyway. Hopefully, my vision will clear up fully in the next two weeks and I'll be back to helping out like I should be.”
“Only thing you gotta focus on right now sweetheart, is getting better.” This entire thing would have been an utter nightmare if you had been on your own. Every soul guaranteed protection and a chance to heal where you didn't have to constantly look over your shoulder or hole up somewhere and pray you wouldn't be found. You leaned against Buckman lightly, smiling as you sipped the tea. He was content to drink whatever alcohol was his choice of poison today and regal you with stories of some of the more embarrassing predicaments that the townsfolk and himself had found themselves in. Things that had been lost to history and would have been forever forgotten if he hadn't been there to share it with you.
This was just what you needed. The warmth of the sun, the smell of the grass, and the light breeze blowing through. It was funny how you could count on the revenge spirit beside you more than you could anyone living that had been in your life.
Author's note: First Jason fic! Can I get a hell yeah? I went in with non-zombie Jason in my head, but you could picture whichever version floats your boat. Soft boy needs an equally soft soulmate. Not beta read. Mistakes are my own. Likes are appreciated but reblogs and comments help keep the muse alive.
Birds chirped overhead, the gentle rustle of leaves both below and overhead helped break the silence of the woods, and the scent of dew and wet leaf litter from the recent rain clung to the air. There was not any sort of ominous presence that blanketed the area. No sense of aggression or rage. No. There was a deep sense of sadness, as if the forest itself was practically forlorn. That was what remained here. The lingering hints of trauma and tragedy.
The trip out to the woods had been a little impromptu. An argument with your parents had been the inciting cause. They had always been persistent and regimented when it came to raising you, and that included trying to sort out your soulmate. Or lack of one. The timer that was supposed to count down to the fated meeting hadn't been running correctly since you were a teen. They saw it as a sign that you were broken, defective in a way that couldn't be fixed properly, so they had to do something to save face. That something came in the form of trying to marry you off.
The idea was never something you had agreed with or to and promised yourself that you never would. To marry someone simply because your parents felt it proper and to save reputation was a deplorable idea. It churned your stomach and burned your throat in the worst way.
As always, the argument had come down to them all but telling you that you had no choice. It was unreasonable to expect anything else. You had shot back that their expectations were unreasonable and treated you like far more a commodity and an item that they possessed than a person. Such arguments left a sour taste in your mouth and a desire to escape. Anywhere in the end by typically into the peacefulness of nature.
You were all by yourself, and while you had not intended to end up as close to the infamous Crystal Lake as you had, things had happened on your hike, and there you stood. The sun reflected off the water beautifully. It stood in stark contrast to the decaying buildings that once housed a summer camp. Taking in the sight, you felt that deep sense of sadness more than anything else. Lives cut short. One that stood out above the rest. No child deserved to have their life cut short in such a tragic, violent manner.
“I'm sorry,” you murmured out without thinking. It was clear to see that most who visited the place weren't respectful. Of what had happened or of nature itself. With a shake of your head, you set your pack down and reached in for a garbage bag. You might as well try to do some clean-up while you were here. The entire day had been dedicated to being in the woods and finding peace within nature. Cleaning up after idiots that trashed the place wasn't ideal, but it was a little giving back. Trash made its way into the bag that you fully planned on hiking out with. Every so often, you would find yourself stopping and glancing around or staring at the water. It was hard to imagine the place vibrant and well cared for, with kids running around, counselors chatting, and the smell of campfires and campfire foods.
It felt like you had hardly made a dent in anything when there was a small thump beside you. You paused to listen. Nothing. Several seconds passed by with nothing before you heard it again. It was a small sound, but it was there nonetheless. You settled your pack and the bag of garbage down in order to investigate. It was coming from some of the debris of what was once a cabin to your left. Worried that it might be some trapped animal, you began to pick through the pile of trash, twisted metal, and broken wood. Little by little, it was cleared away. Your first instinct had been right. There was a small rabbit tangled in the remnants of what had once been sheets, under a few pieces of wood.
“Hey there. It's okay,” you cooed gently. The little animal was going to panic and break its back if it continued. While you knew no amount of soothing would help it calm, you couldn't bring yourself to stop. “I'm gonna get you out of there. You just need to give me just a second here since you are so tangled. We don't want you breaking your back.” The rabbit was a prey animal. Logically, you knew that there was little you could do to calm it down, and it would sooner break its back in an attempt to get away before just laying there. Still, you persisted and gently rubbed its head. It seemed to stop thrashing somewhat. Anything was better than nothing. It took some time and effort to untangle the frayed sheets enough for the little animal to be free, all the while you cooed and reassured it. After what felt like forever, you managed to pull the last piece of fabric away.
“There you go, little guy. All set and free. Go on, I'm sure there is a nest somewhere around here for you.” You chuckled as the bunny bounded off without hesitation, scurrying into the woods. Two good deeds for the day done. Well, mostly done. You planned on cleaning up a little more trash before needing to hike back towards the trail head and your car.
A sense of accomplishment filled you. Others might have found it silly. All in all, there wasn't a massive difference, but you felt better for the deed having been done.
“Okay. Rabbit freed and trash cleaned up. Pretty decent day.” It had put you in a better mindset than when you had first entered the woods. The sadness of the place hadn't leeched into you, but rather the quiet, peaceful stillness of it had. You let out a low sigh, the sort that came from a day of hard work that left a satisfied feeling brimming from your very core. That's when the crunching out of twigs breaking behind you sounded out. Gone was the peaceful stillness, and instead, there was that eerie, spine tingling sense of being watched. It wouldn't have been unusual to come across others who were hiking. Or troublemakers looking to make something out of an old ghost story. Generally, their presence was announced, and they called out to not catch someone off guard. There wasn't another sound. The crunching stopped as if whoever it was had stood stock still. An animal would have kept moving. The hair on the back of your neck stood as the sensation morphed into that sense of no longer being alone. Eyes were most certainly on you.
It was a struggle to not turn and look. If you let whoever it was know that you knew they were there, the situation could escalate quickly. You had wanted the time to assess it all and figure out your best course of action. Running through the woods in a wild panic was not the best plan and likely the quickest way for harm to come to you. Thinking was critical. So, instead of giving into the prey instinct of running, you stood there and observed the scene that you had helped to clean. Small details that seemed insignificant lost to time. A small stuffed bear lay half under one of the dilapidated cabins. The fire pit was nearly lost to leaf matter and the rummaging of the local wildlife who had likely tried to find whatever remnants remained from what had caused the smells. It was almost like you could still hear the sounds of children playing. Then, screaming in terror as the grief of a mother brought bloodshed to the ground.
There still had been no movements behind you. Whoever, whatever it was, hadn't moved from the spot it had stopped. The feeling had not vanished. Squaring your shoulders, you took a deep breath and shifted to head back in the direction that you had come from. Despite the overgrowth, it was relatively easy to find the trail. You carefully listened, trying to remain as calm as possible. There were footsteps, semi hurried, that followed right behind you. The need to look could no longer be denied. You took one more step before quickly spinning on your heels. There was someone there. Not just anyone. No. The hulking mountain of a man that stood there screamed intimidation. A worn, dirty looking hockey mask covered his face, the skull that could be seen around it misshapen enough to look odd. A machete was tightly clutched in one hand. His clothes? Ragged, worn, torn in some places. This was someone who was out here in these woods. Someone who had likely been that way for quite a while. He was utterly silent, only adding to the intimidation factor. Yet, there was not another move made. He did not yet forward to close the distance. The machete remained at his side.
You couldn't take your eyes off of him. A warmth flooded the skin of your forearm, right where your timer sat. It bordered on painful, certainly meeting the requirements for discomfort. As if there was a match lit under your skin.
A stand-off. That's what it was. Neither of you made a move, and while there was tension, you couldn't help but notice that he hadn't moved to harm you just yet. If he was there to do that, he wouldn't have stopped. Right? He would have just gotten on with it. Unless he was waiting for you to run? The world continued to turn. The birds chirped. The leaves rustled with the soft breeze that blew through. Even so, it felt like time was standing still. His head tipped to the side, only slightly. Curious. That was what it signaled. Your weight shifted foot to foot, trying to understand what was happening here and what the next logical step was going to be.
“Um, hi,” you started. There wasn't any harm in seeing where this was going, right? It was either some sort of prank or a misunderstanding. Or it could be that there was some credence to the ghost stories that floated around about Crystal Lake. “I'm sorry. Uh, about being here if I wasn't supposed to be. I accidentally came upon the place while out on a hike and figured a little clean-up wouldn't hurt. No one should be leaving trash like that….” Still, nothing came from the man. There was not a single sign that he understood what you were saying. The trash bag at your side shook a little as you couldn't help but reach across and clasp your forearm with your free hand. A quick glance down, something deemed worth the risk, only caused the confusion situation to become all the more unsteady. Your timer, the one that had ticked up instead of down, that had flickered in and out at times, that had never functioned correctly before now, had finally hit zero. That meant one thing. Your eyes shot back up to the man that stood across from you.
You hadn't thought the timer would ever hit zero. Those words from your parents echoed in your head. Despite the best attempts to not let them get to you, after hearing it so long, you had started to believe that you were broken and would never find a soulmate. You had started to believe that you didn't even have one. Now you were staring down the other that was that very individual.
How did you even bring it up? Especially with a man who had yet to say a word. He may not even be able to say anything. Would he care? What was he really doing out here? A million and one questions swirled through your head, yet nothing came from your mouth. Effectively, you had been rendered entirely mute by the discovery.
A step. The first movement that he had made, and it was a single step closer to you. You made no move to run. You couldn't, feeling physically rooted to your spot now that you had found your soulmate. Everything else seemed a distant buzz, not worthy of focus or time. Silence continued to stretch out between you. The next movement was swift, this time no hesitation as he closed the distance. Standing before you, he was even taller than he had seemed at a fifteen foot distance. He smelled of the forest and something else. Something that you couldn't entirely identify. This close, it was obvious that the machete was old, but it wasn't just rust that stained the blade. That was blood. Who's or what's blood was the question. This close, you could see that there was a difference in the level of his eyes, one appearing lower than the other through the mask. This close, his presence felt overwhelming. The peace that had been achieved slowly melted away, and yet panic hadn't clawed at your throat. You weren't running away screaming. He could kill you right now, soulmate or not, and you wouldn't have had a chance to even attempt to survive.
Staring at the man, you could do nothing but wait for some sort of sign, anything to come from him that would indicate how this would go. His head tipped a little more, his breathing calm and even. You hadn't expected his hand to move at a lightning speed and grab a hold of your chin. Not your throat, your jaw, more than anything. The touch wasn't harsh, but it wasn't exactly soft either. You swallowed hard, remaining stock still in the hold. It felt like neither of you was going to blink. While firm, it didn't feel overly threatening. Now, it was a different sort of standoff. You couldn't possibly know what was going through his head at that moment.
The seconds slipped by, turning into minutes. The longer it went on, the more unsure you were about this all. The stare felt heavy, as if he was trying to see through you or into your soul. Your hair stood on end, and your skin prickled under the intense scrutiny. Even so, you found yourself slowly raising one hand. Gently, ever so gently, you laid it against the thick forearm, fingers curling against the muscle. It wasn't a grip. it wasn't meant to be any attempt to pry his hand off of you. That idea was a stupid one, and you knew it without trying. He could easily overpower you, and pissing him off was not something you wanted to do right then. No, it was a soft touch that meant to convey that you weren't going to go anywhere. Not right then. Everything was okay.
To your shock, his posture seemed to relax almost instantly. Shoulders dropped, spine curled from ram rod straight, and all that tension uncoiled in an unspectacular fashion. You weren't sure what you had expected, but that sort of relief was not it. Gathering your courage, you ventured to speak once more.
“It's okay.” The same tone that you had used on the frightened rabbit was used on the massive man. You could just feel it in your gut that it was the right approach. “I won't go anywhere right now. I know it's gotta be a lot for you. It is for me, too. We can figure this out. Together. If you want. Does that sound like a plan?” A response was given this time, and you couldn't help but smile. It was a stiff nod, but it was better than the silence or seemingly blank affect that you had gotten before. Before you could comprehend exactly what was happening, he had swept you up into his arms, bags, and all, as if you weighed nothing. Some of that fear came back, but you fought to tamper it down. You could walk, but apparently, that was off the table, and frankly, you didn't feel like asking or demanding and stirring the pot.
The whole thing wouldn't be easy. You knew that somewhere in the back of your mind, but this was your soulmate. Whoever this was. That meant it was worth a try.
Warning: Canon typical violence, Hoyt being Hoyt, injury, cannibalism (mentioned in passing), blood, minor character death
Author's note: It's been a year since I've been around? Jeez. I hadn't meant to up and disappear. Life happened, as it often does and not only pulled me away but also stomped on any muse. It's been a while since I've written, but I received a burst of inspiration to finish this last evening. Hope everyone enjoys. There are some more things coming. The character list is also going to be revamped. As always, not beta read and mistakes are my own. Likes always appreciated but reblogs and comments help keep muse alive.
Tags: Uh, not sure if anyone would want to be tagged. Let me know.
Deep, slow breaths. In and out. The action was calming, and calming was just what you needed right now. Lord save you from the stubbornness of southern men. Now, did Hoyt and you always see eye to eye? Hardly. But, you also understood that, for the most part, his intentions were good when it came to protecting and helping the family. Sure, that would be very different from what most would accept as protecting and helping, but no one else was going to give a shit about any of you, so you all did what it took to survive. But, there were times, just like right now, that the man made you want to pull out every last strand of hair on your head.
Though, if it was any sort of consolation, the man looked like he was about ready to do the same. Or reach across the table and throttle you. If you weren't family and weren't important to Thomas, there wasn't a doubt in the world that he would be doing just that. Maybe it was because you had known him and the family for years that made it easier and more comfortable for you to challenge and not worry about being harmed.
“Listen,” you started slowly, your voice far more steady than before and far more calm. “I'm not saying that you are wrong or that it can't be done. I'm just saying how we go about doing this is the problem. Someone is going to get hurt. And as good as we've become patching up wounds, there are things that are beyond our skill. And I don't think anyone wants a repeat of what happened with Monte.” A small light of recognition flitted in his eyes, but the man was too prideful and stubborn.
“Well, it's a good thing I didn't ask for your opinion, sweetheart. Why don't you and Tommy just go to the basement and leave it all up to me, like it always is.” A frustrated groan escaped you before the sound could be stopped, and you looked to the ceiling as if asking God himself for some help. Not that any would come your way.
“No, you didn't. So, don't be a grouch when things don't work out the way that you want them to.” It was a nice way of saying don't be an asshole since as much as you wanted to say it, you couldn't bring yourself to do so.
You could feel Tommy’s presence not far behind you. No doubt he watched the exchange. He trusted Hoyt, but sometimes, he got a little overprotective of you when you and Hoyt went at it. Shoulders slumped and defeat conceded as much as your pride would allow. You walked over to the mountain of a man, whose eyes slipped to you almost as soon as you turned. A smile was quickly given to assure him that everything was fine. There wasn't any sure fire way to guarantee that. If the feeling in your gut was anything to go by, things were going to get messy. Quickly. It wouldn't just be Hoyt dealing with the consequences of his decision either. You all would. There was nothing to be done about that now. All you could do was be as prepared as one possible could be. Those thoughts temporarily slipped away when Thomas reached out, his large hand engulfing yours.
“It's okay, Tommy,” you soothed, voice not above a whisper. There was a sound akin to a grunt that came from him, but the issue wasn't pressed anymore. You both headed upstairs to your room instead, knowing that chaos would likely start soon.
Screams filled the night. The loud roar of the chainsaw rumbled out, attempting to overpower both physically and figuratively. The heavy, copper scent of blood tinged the air that entered your lungs. Not all from the prey that was meant to fill the freezer.
You had told Hoyt. Repeatedly. The couple he had set eyes on weren't a good choice. They had been looking at land not far from the Hewitt property. Lord only knew the reason that they were coming to a desolate town. You hadn't been too bothered listening to the story. The polite smiling and appropriate responses back had been muscle memory, an act that felt as mindless as breathing by now. He had been worried about them being too close. You had been worried about the military background of the man.
Then he had mentioned the friends that would be joining them. A little commune of sorts of veterans. The sort of shit that Hoyt wouldn't have touched with a ten foot pole. That stubbornness had saved your lives. There was no doubt about that. But, that stubbornness would be what caused problems.
Oh, how right you were to be worried. This one wasn't going down without a fight. Nor were his two friends. In the explosion of violence that overtook the home, you had lost track of almost everyone. It had broken down so quickly that your head had spun. The first concern in your mind was getting Luda Mae out of dodge. Tommy and Hoyt would have to be the ones who handled the men, even if they were at a numbers disadvantage. You had managed to grab the older woman and just pull her out of the grasp of one of the men. It put you in the direct line of fire.
Luda had whacked at him with a frying pan, knocking him upside the head, but the blow had come too late. The men weren't looking to take hostages and escape. They were looking to kill. The shard of glass he had picked up from the basement dug deep into your side. Pain erupted and panic immediately welled up in your chest. No. Not like this.
The chainsaw roar reached your ears, and you hoped against hope that Tommy was making out better than you. He had to have at least one of them dealt with by now. Hoyt? Hopefully, he was on the other one.
The man was dazed from the hit to the head but not knocked out. He drew the glass back and went for your throat this time. It was only because you lunched forward to throw him off balance, did the strike miss, and cause the glass to be embedded in your shoulder. It was your own blood that lingered in the air this time. Another blow from Luda and survival instinct that caused you to latch onto the man's neck, hard, biting down with all of your might. The man struggled, but he was far more disoriented. Luda kept whacking away while you refused to ease the pressure of your jaw. Even as spots began to dance before your eyes. When you pulled back, flesh came with it, and blood sprayed.
The room spun, and your legs gave out, refusing to support your weight as the body in front of you dropped to the floor. You could hear the exclamation that came from Luda, but it was muffled. It took a lot of energy for you to push yourself back into the wall. Blood seeped from the wound on your shoulder but was more of a steady flow from the stab wound to your side. Tommy. The only thing in that moment that you so desperately wanted was the one man who brought peace to your world, who mattered more than anything else.
“Ah, shit. What happened, ma?” Hoyt appeared in the doorway, bloodied with a gash to his right arm but appearing overall none the worse for wear. He stepped towards you immediately, knowing that Tommy was still preoccupied with the last of the meat.
You glanced upward in time to see a worried look cross the face of Hoyt. Then he was scooping you up off of the floor. No matter how hard you tried in that moment, you couldn't stop the pained yelp that came.
“On the couch, now.” Muscles twitched and spasmed out of control, pain invading every sense and being the sole thing you were aware of right then and there. Everything else faded to the background before going black.
**********************************************
A warmth pressed to your forehead. Heavy and present. It was the first thing that you felt aware of as consciously filtered back. As you went to move it away, your hand found that it wasn't any cloth. A hand was pressed to your skin. Not just any hand. Large, calloused, scarred. Tommy. A small whimper came from your left. The pain. Every breath brought a screaming sense of agony to your side and your right arm.
“Tommy?” Another soft sound, halfway between a whimper and a grunt. His hand moved from your forehead to your cheek. His skin felt cool against yours. That never happened. Tommy was practically a human fireplace. He was always warmer than you.
“Tommy, ya gotta let ma change those bandages.” You could feel the way that his arm tensed, even as his touch remained soft. It was your signal to open your eyes. The room was bathed in the waning light of the day. You didn't know which day. Hoyt stood in the doorway, and Tommy was glaring daggers in his direction.
“It's okay…” A shiver wracked your frame before you could reach up. The movement brought his attention back to you. “Tommy, it's okay.” He looked so sad. The sort of sad that you hadn't seen on his face in years. Haunted and terrified. Nothing made Tommy look like that. It had to be bad.
“Glad to see you up, sweetheart.” Hoyt's voice was soft, and you couldn't quite make out his expression, only quickly glancing at him before refocusing on Tommy. He didn't say another word before silently leaving.
Tommy leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours. The soft sounds that came from him practically broke your heart. You tried your best to reassure him softly, but nothing seemed to ease that fear and sadness. He was blaming himself for you being hurt. There was no doubt in your mind. It wasn't his fault. You knew that. Logically, he couldn't be everywhere at once, dealing with the group.
“I'm here. I'm gonna be okay. None of this is your fault, Tommy.” A huff came from him. No, he wouldn't believe you. “I promise. I couldn't ask for anyone better to look after me than you. I love you.” His free hand took yours and carefully pressed it to his chest, over his heart. A returned sentiment without words.
“Honey, you're up.” Luda appeared, interrupting the soft moment. Just how long she had been standing there was a mystery. You were not going to ask about it. “I have some medicine you'll have to take for that fever. And we have to change those bandages. Tommy's gonna need to help get you moved around for it.”
“Okay.” You felt tired. Agreeing to what needed to be done, dutifully, you took the medication that was handed to you while Tommy helped you hold the glass of water. Your mind wandered, trying not to focus on the pain as your frame was shifted and Luda inspected and cleaned the wounds. You were alive. That was what mattered. Once you could get out of this bed, you were going to give Hoyt hell over the decisions. Maybe next time, he would listen to you.
Apparently, I've been around a whole year already. Sort of mind boggling to think about. Thanks for all the follows and reblogs. Wasn't sure what to expect when I first ventured into the horror fandom. To all the awesome friends I've made in the past year, I appreciate you all!
This is not a drill. I am finally starting in on The Evil Dead Franchise. Let's see how this goes. One of the first "classic" franchises that I'm actually starting off with the first movie.
