Just something I came up with after watching the movie with my friends. Maybe if this goes well, I'll turn it into a full fanfic.
Dark content warning
If you haven't seen Hereditary, I highly suggest you watch the film before reading this. Just keep in mind it's a psychological horror movie with depictions of gore and death and typical cult movie stuff. Same goes for this fic.
This is NOT a fluff piece. Nor is it even romance.
Contains HEAVY Spoilers for Hereditary
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Maybe smoking does kill.
That's what everyone says at least.
If by kill, they mean lead to your untimely death in the tree house of a dead little girl whose older brother was someone you knew a few weeks ago as the stoner guy who liked to stare at Bridget Davis’ ass at school... then they're right.
Nobody told you how much blood would be involved… Especially not your own dripping down your philtrum and chin as you prop yourself up on the tree house floorboards, staring up at Peter Graham with his stupid self-inflicted nose injury and a crown on his head… Almost exactly the same as the one on yours, placed by the sick, naked cult members now bowing down to you both.
“A Queen,” They called you as they stabbed a dagger straight into your chest. His Queen.
Peter's? No.
Whatever the fuck that thing was standing over you, merely resembling Peter Graham.
You suppose this is also what they meant by the consequences of premarital sex...
You thought it was stupid, of course as most kids your age did.
So stupid… But who's laughing now?
If your brother were alive, he'd laugh.
Laugh at the car accident, the house party, at how you got so high, you hooked up with a boy you barely knew or even liked, how you got attached to said boy which led to you getting involved in a fucking cult ritual.
He'd be on the floor, wheezing… Barely breathing…
That's how his stupid ass died.
And that's how you're going to die now.
You don't know if you've accepted the fact that all you can do is sit in the back of your own head and watch these people praise this son of a bitch as he takes you for himself… Or if you wish you hadn't even talked to Peter that night in the first place…
Are you fucking serious?
Of course you regret it.
You regret all of it.
You regret throwing that damn party… Getting higher than you usually did, bumping into Peter and borrowing his jacket to cover up the beer stain on your shirt… Taking him up on the offer to smoke together on his roof, meeting again at Aaron's party when you intercepted his path towards Bridget, opening up to him about your brother's death, attending his sister's funeral, letting him into your room when he was running away from a fight with his mom, driving him to the hospital when he bashed his own face into his desk, taking the yelling from his mom, and now…
Fuck, if Daniel were alive, he never would've let you date this boy.
You would've probably yelled back and caused his death again if you didn't the first time…
‘Fucking hate you, Daniel.’
Hated how much it hurt. How much the guilt eats up at you every time you pass his room, or sit across his empty chair at dinner, or drive your mom's car because his pick-up got totalled when you…
You blame yourself just as much as your parents would have blamed you if you had actually confessed the crash was your fault.
You blame yourself for getting yourself to this point in time all because you killed your brother and got high every chance you got to forget for just a moment.
Wait. No.
Fuck no. You blame Peter for spilling his beer on you, kissing you on the roof-
No.
You blame whatever stupid cult decided that a teenage boy was a good vessel for a fucking demon. For seeing him with you one time and ultimately deciding you were good enough to offer up with him.
You didn't even know him… God… You didn't. You just grew so attached after people stopped spreading rumours about you when they found out you got yourself a boyfriend.
Honestly, now, you would choose to get called a stuck-up, high-as-fuck bitch who would never give a boy the time of day over this.
You see the same emptiness in “Peter's” eyes as he looks down at you, not even apologetic for dragging you into this, just regretful of the choices he made to get here himself.
Same stupid eyes that prevented you from just dumping him after he started acting weird the first time.
All of it was sick...
The chanting, the cult members, the same Mrs Graham who yelled at you to stay the fuck away from her son, now bowing down to the ritual, because, fuck... she knew, didn't she? She knew this is what it would lead to...
'Should've bitched her out for slapping me...'
You couldn't even look at Peter without seeing poor Charlie's disgusting head on the altar behind him.
'Poor Charlie...'
'Should've looked for an EpiPen that night...'
'Should've noticed the nuts in the cake when Peter left her so we could make out.'
'Should have just gone to my room and changed clothes instead of insisting on borrowing a cute boy's jacket...'
'Should have stayed home today instead of worry about Peter not picking up his phone...'
Finally, you let yourself collapse, your head thumping against the wooden floorboards as the chanting fades and the warm candlelight eases you into unconsciousness. A sick twist of fate as the last thing you saw was the same thing that started all this; Peter Graham's face so close to yours as he hovers over you just like that night. Except his eyes weren't his anymore as yours fluttered into darkness.
I don’t write explicit NSFW, just makes me uncomfortable <3
I don’t write angst
If it’s a slasher like Sam (Trick or Treat) it’s automatically platonic or a younger reader interacting with him which will still be platonic and innocent in that aspect. I refuse to write anything romantic with a minor and an older character or reader.
With that being said I won’t be writing for Freddy Krueger
Drabbles, Headcannons, Multi-part stories are all a possibility if you want or if I have the idea for them!
If I have anything I find that I need to add I’ll be sure to update this!
These are slasher and thriller fandoms/movies I write for! They’re also masterlists links to those specific masterlists as I write.
Halloween
Black Christmas (1974)
Scream Franchise
Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) & (Early 2000′s)
Saw Franchise
The Boy ★
Hereditary
The Collector
Hush
House of Wax
Fear Street
Stranger Things
Friday The 13th
Carrie
DBD Video Game ★
FNAF Movie
My Bloody Valentine
These are my main ones, feel free to request others! If I haven’t watched them it may take longer since I’ll try watching it first. Or if you just want to leave a movie suggestion, feel free to do that too!
I'm so happy that you missed the 3 word challenge cause I missed reading it! It is such a good way to deal with writers block, for example.
Okay so, recently I've watched the Korea tv show Round 6 (also called squid game), and I've watched the 3 seasons of NBC Hannibal.
I do recommend both for you to watch but be careful cause there is a lot of blood, murder, organs, canibalism (in Hannibal)(Not raw tho), so if you have a weak stomach or just don't like it, it may not be the show for you. (But Hannibal have canon gay so we forgive).
Since Im deeply inspired by this two shows, today you will have a 5 word challenge, inspired somehow by something in the show! (Ps: i chose to not put "graphic words" cause I don't know what you are comfortable or not writing, so i didn't put words like canibalism or murder)
The words are: Beloved, Becoming, Mongoose, Debt and VIP.
Unnecessary explanation of the words that I chose (you can skip this 🤧):
Beloved: Reference to Hannibal (main character in the tv show Hannibal), cause he calls Will beloved sometimes.
Becoming: Reference to Hannibal. Basically Will (main character) will throughout the show become a murder, and Hannibal refers to that as his Becoming. Hannibal also uses that word as in a reference to Will being free and himself. (Being a murder and being true to yourself is pretty much the same thing here).
Mongoose: Reference to Hannibal. That's how will is called by Hannibal sometimes. So cute <3
Debt: reference to Squid Game. Every character is in a deep debt.
VIP: Reference to Squid Game. VIP are really important and rich (also disgustingly horrible people), and they kind of fund the game.
If you made this far, here's a cool music indication: "Black butterflies and deja Vu" by The Maine
That's it! Bye Vy! Sorry for writing too much, <3!
SQUID GAME YOU SAY!!! - Sorry for the caps but I got really excited 😂 Although I haven't seen Hannibal (I'll take your recommendation for it, for sure!) I have seen and I'm OBSESSED with Squid Game. Thank you so much for your five word challenge, I've really missed doing this!
I will most definitely write a Squid Game fic in the future but as of now I’m gonna turn to my new obsession - Ari Aster horror movies! Enjoy!
Shadows
Peter Graham [Hereditary (2018)] x Estra Davis (Female OC)
Warnings: SPOILERS for the movie Hereditary, Disturbing Content regarding demons, possession, Death, Mentioned Deaths, Demonology, Swearing, Injuries, Mentions of blood and gore, Mentions of Mental illness
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Estra Davis stares down at her phone screen which displays an incoming call from her ‘business partner’, Damian Louis who she hasn’t heard from in weeks and she’s most certainly not in the mood to be hearing from him right now as she awaits entrance into her sister’s room in the psych ward where she’s resided for the past five years following what happened to her and her family all those years ago. Their lives got turned upside down in a flash of misfortune that no one expected nor was able to put an end to. A misfortune so terrible and crippling, it has left Estra and Deres as the only remaining members of the Davis family. Well, their parents aren’t dead, they’re in prison where they’re serving a life sentence. However, their younger brother Brian who was only seven at the time had his life cut short so brutally and cruelly which is what put Deres in the mental state she’s in.
Estra is not holding up the best she’s ever been, but she’s pulling it together as much as she can. She’s holding onto reality, stubbornly building a wall between her and her mind every time her trauma breaks through the previous one. She cannot afford to end up like her older sister.
A nurse offers her a polite smile and a nod as she gestures for Estra to follow her to Deres’ room the door to which is opened to let air inside and allow the disheveled shell of the girl that she used to be hear some voices to remind her she’s alive. It’s a sight that’s so painful to see, Estra has had to hold back the need to puke many times in the past.
The nurse leaves the two alone, reminding the younger girl what button to press in case she finds herself in any danger with her sister before excusing herself with a sympathetic look.
With a sigh, the girl takes a bold step forward, “Hey Deres.”
The older sister who’s been sitting by the window all morning turns her head to give the familiar face a smile, brightening her pale, almost grey features.
“Had breakfast yet?“ Estra asks, dragging a chair parallel to her sister’s so they can both stare out the window.
“You just missed Brian. He came to visit me.“ She replies quietly, unintentionally avoiding to answer the younger sister’s question. The words stab into the girl’s chest like a dozen knives but she keeps a smile on her face as her sister keeps talking, now pointing out the window, “There he is, he’s waving goodbye to us.“
She knows she won’t be able to see him, she knows she won’t ever see him outside pictures again and yet she still strains her eyes to search the hospital’s yard, praying for her mind to play a trick on her so she can, even for a moment, ‘see’ him again but she doesn’t. Swallowing back her tears, she waves a hand at her ‘brother’, feeling her stomach turn painfully.
“I’ll be right back...“ She smiles at Deres, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as she nods with a smile.
This is one of those days. One of those days Estra finds especially hard to hold back that need to throw up which is why she quickly runs to the bathroom to rid herself of the toxic feeling in her gut. She coughs her throat clean and washes her hands and mouth, flushing the toilet and spraying some freshener in the air to cover up the smell. She stops before exiting the dimly lit bathroom, turning to the mirror so she can practice a realistic looking smile despite the tears running down her cheeks. Deres doesn’t notice those anyway.
Just as she’s about to go back to her sister, her phone rings. It’s Damian again. Estra’s finger hovers over the red Decline button for a few seconds before deciding she needs the distraction and answers the call.
“You’re not gonna believe this!“ The enthusiastic voice of her fellow demonologist and paranormal investigator radiates energy she’s glad to feel even through the phone.
“Need I remind you of who you’re talking to?“ She asks with a playful scoff, running a hand through her hair, “I’ve seen it all.“
“Well this you haven’t, I promise you.“ Dam continues rambling causing the girl to periodically space out and then return when specific words would intrigue her. Eventually, much to her relief, he decides to do a summary of what he’s said, “So, basically, this mongoose dingus has lost his mind and blames it on some cult or some demon, I don’t even know at this point.“
Estra rolls her eyes in mild disappointment. False alarms like this have been brought up by many individuals or families in the past, 99.9% of the time resulting into nothing but a waste of time for her and Dam. “Give me his name again, I wanna look him up.”
Dam is quick to casually reply, “Um, Peter Graham.“
That was a verbal punch delivered straight to Estra’s gut, knocking the air out of her while simultaneously giving her whiplash.
That’s a name she doesn’t need to look up or do a research on - everyone in her field and even anyone with any interest in the paranormal has heard of what has happened to the Graham and what’s going on with what’s left of their oldest child - Peter, now twenty-one years old, living in that house all by himself as rumor has it.
Well, Estra’s done with listening to rumors.
“Meet me at the office in fifteen.“ She tells Dam before hanging up and walking out to find her sister now sitting on the bed, “Hey sis, I gotta run.“ She kisses the top of Deres’ head before waving her goodbye and practically running out of the room in chase of the perfect distraction from what has been going on in her personal life all these years.
* * * * *
“Estra, you’re insane! I’m not just gonna waltz in that house, playing the role of a fucking bait for whatever haunts it!“ Exclaims an exasperated Dam who’s been trying with the overly eager Estra for the past half an hour.
“It’s our chance of a lifetime, Dam! You can’t tell me anybody else has done this because no one has! This will give us so many points for originality and...“ The girl defends her statement, refusing to give up ground to her slightly older companion who uses that age fact against her in every argument. It goes without saying that she doesn’t let it slide.
He cuts her off, “We’re not going, Es! I sure as hell won’t and I’m not letting you go in alone either!“ He huffs in frustration as he sits down in the chair he abandoned twenty minutes ago, “Just look at what happened to your beloved sister!“
“Don’t bring Deres into this, you prick!“ She snaps, slamming the palms of her hands onto the polished surface of Dam’s desk, “Her and I are not the same! The only thing we share at this point is one last name! That’s not Deres I’ve been going to see twice a week for five years. I don’t recognize that girl!“
“Exactly! I don’t want that to happen to you too!“ Dam lashes out, mirroring her levels of hostility.
“It won’t!“ She digs her nails into the wood or at least attempts to, giving up when she feels them start cracking under the pressure, “We were both driven insane, Damian, but in completely different ways! The trauma crippled her but it’s made me stronger! I’m more volatile, hostile, more willing to put everything in jeopardy to protect the people I care for! I’m no longer afraid, Dam, no longer afraid of anything...“ She trails off for a second, her gaze falling on a picture of Peter on one of the files Dam has compiled. He looks so harmless to her, especially in comparison to the possessed mountain of a man that she escaped when she was only seventeen. She also happens to be a year older than him, giving her a sense of protectiveness over him almost like she had over Brian.
And look how well you protected him
The thoughts shake her to her core, causing her to ground herself back to reality where she’s still sitting in front of a very worried and practically terrified Dam.
“She was weak, the girl I was. Deres wasn’t but now she is. We’re mirrored versions of each other.“ One last look at the picture of Peter later, she’s met Dam’s eyes with an intense glare that’s more meant for her past self than for him, “He needs his story to be heard.“
* * * * *
The drive up to the Graham abode was unnerving. Estra is not one to change her mind when she build herself a goal but she was very willing to tell the Uber to turn the fuck around and take her back with each mile they got closer to the monstrosity of a house.
Hearing the car’s engine revving further and further away from her, leaving her alone in the eerie place doesn’t help close up the pit that has opened in her stomach and so she periodically remains locked in place, feet almost feeling like they’ve dug into the ground and planted her there like a tree. Except she’s able to move, just doesn’t want to. Does she now believe this was a bad idea? No. Is she terrified of going in there though? Hell fucking yes.
But she’s already paid the Uber and already let him go so...might as well get her money’s worth.
With a deep inhale she takes large, faux confident steps towards the house. Just then, her phone rings, causing her to let out a scream she’s not particularly proud of. Unsurprisingly, it’s Damian.
“God fucking damn you, Dam! You’re becoming scarier than the actual experience!“ She complains, covering up her panting with a disapproving shout.
“I’m sorry!“ He doesn’t sound sorry, “I just wanted to let you know I’ve put a tape recorder in your bag along with some holy water and sage. The recorder will be on constantly and if you don’t get any ideas, Graham won’t have to know about it.“ He says, sounding awfully proud which probably wouldn’t have been the case if he could see Estra’s face right now, “No need to thank me. Just consider it a debt you’ll have to pay off eventually.“
Her face falls instantly, cheeks flushing with a crimson shade of pure anger, “Thank you? Repay you? You know what, I might as well pull it out and crush it right here on the pavement! What the fuck were you thinking?! I’m not some journalist trying to make a story to tell the press about this guy! This man needs help!”
“Estra, we are journalists of the supernatural! Get your head in the fucking game! There’s no compassion here! You say a few words, make yourself a couple of bucks and get the fuck out! What don’t you-“
Dam never gets to finish his sentence because Estra is quick to hang up only seconds before the front door before her opens to reveal a disheveled man with messy black hair and scars on the bridge and around his nose. His dead eyes look into hers, reminding her of the ones she saw every time she looked in the mirror until recently.
Before she could get a word out, the man who is definitely no other than Peter Graham, puts his hand on the door handle, ready to close it once more, “I have nothing to tell you.“
The girl is quick to disagree though, shoving her boot-clad foot between the door and its frame, “I think you do.”
“No, I don’t! I don’t wanna see my family tragedy in the morning newspaper tomorrow.“ He argues, putting all his little strength into shutting that door which would probably hurt like a bitch had the boot not been as solid as it is, taking the painful friction and not allowing it to reach her foot.
“I’m not a journalist!“ She retorts, refusing to move. “No one will know your story, I swear!“
Giving up his futile attempts, he lets go, stepping back to open the door a bit more, “Ok then what are you?”
Sighing in relief but still not moving her foot, Estra replies, “First of all, I’m Estra Davis.“ She extends a hand to him, one he luckily takes, “A paranormal investigator. Demonologist, if you will.“
Although he looks a little stunned, he too seems relieved, “Peter Graham, but I bet you already knew that.”
“Yeah, I did.“ She offers him a smile which, much to her surprise, he returns, “So...can I come in?“
This causes his eyes to widen, “You want to come in?”
She’s quick to explain herself, afraid she might lose his trust, “I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable we can stand outside and talk...”
“No...“ He too feels the need to justify himself, “It’s just that most people who know...wouldn’t really want to go inside. I know I wouldn’t.“
Estra experiences the hit of the second wave of relief in the past ten minutes, “No, not all. If I were a scaredy cat like that I wouldn’t be here.”
"In that case...." The guy sighs, "...come in, I guess."
Over the countless hours Estra and Damien spent researching this case, they came across many pictures of the interior of the Graham home. It would’ve easily been perceived as beautiful, but knowing what they know made it hard to see it as anything but eerie. However, now that one half of the duo finds herself inside the house, she understands how little justice those pictures did it. And the word eerie doesn’t even begin to describe the atmosphere.
“Listen, um....I guess you believe this stuff if you’re here...but still I want you to know that every time it seems like I lose control, I actually do. It’s not up to me to choose when it takes over so....be prepared.“ Peter explains truthfully, though it hurts him to admit it out loud. Estra is one of the only people he’s had contact with since the possession and he hasn’t had anyone to talk to about it until now. He really doesn’t want to scare her away, though it seems to him it would take a lot more than that to chase her out of the house.
That’s further proven when she shrugs in response to his heartfelt statement, “I believe you, Peter, I really do, but I can handle myself, don’t worry.” She awkwardly grind her heel into the wooden floor of the foyer as she looks around, barely containing herself from gushing about it all. It really wouldn’t be appropriate. She’d ask to take pictures to show Dam but that’d be inappropriate too, so she just settles for asking: “Can I have a house tour?”
Peter, surprised by the move on her part, reluctantly nods before guiding her into the living room It’s not like he was expecting her to jump straight into the cult questions but he also wouldn’t have been taken aback if that were the case. Luckily for him, it’s not. He finds an odd sense of genuineness in her demeanor and he’s unsure of whether it’s a real feeling or just his wishful thinking, but he’s still glad to be in her company. Or at least halfway so.
“You get a lot of natural sunlight in here.“ The girl comments as she wanders around the place, careful not to touch anything. That’s the first rule when entering a supposedly haunted house - do NOT touch anything. She approaches the window, looking outside, admiring the view the room has. It’s such a shame - even if this house was on the market now, knowing its history, she wouldn’t buy it. Not that she has the money for it anyway, “Oh, these plants are adorable.“
Much to her astonishment, Peter laughs behind her. Worried that it might not actually be him who let out the chuckle, she whirls her head around to see now change in his appearance or behavior. He’s simply leaning against a chair, looking at her like she’s an interesting specimen he hasn’t seen in a while. Which, to be fair, is probably the reality.
“You’re probably the only person who can find anything adorable about this house.“ He says as an explanation to his reaction, which in turn causes her to giggle as she steps away from the plants.
“Us demonologists are always surrounded with negative energy. We need to battle it any way we can - and that includes finding joy in little things and admiring their beauty.“ Estra explains as the two roam the lower level of the house after which he guides her up the stairs.
Halfway up the staircase, however, he stops in front of her. She can’t see his face but the tightening of his grip on the banister tells her enough for her to reach for the pocket knife she’s armed herself with.
Luckily, she doesn’t get around to using it, since Peter relaxes and continues his way up the stairs, continuing their conversation as if nothing happened, leading her to wonder if he even noticed he tapped out for a second there.
“So you’re like an actual demonologist?“ He nudges her, a question that’d usually annoy her but it now makes her laugh.
“I consider myself a VIP in the paranormal investigation industry, so yes, I am an actual demonologist.“ She replies, putting extra emphasis on ‘actual’ like he did when phrasing his question.
Peter chuckles, “Aren’t I lucky to have such a professional at my service.”
“You definitely are lucky to have been caught by our radar.“ Estra tells him as the two walk down the corridor, underneath the spot on the ceiling where the infamous door that leads to that God forsaken attic of terror should be. At this moment, it’s probably just a regular attic and so is that tree house the girl just caught a glimpse of through the window they passed by, but the memories in them still make them a horrifying place to be.
Peter shows Estra to the bedrooms, something she sees as a surprise considering he would’ve only felt comfortable showing her his since, well, you know, the other two belong to people who are no longer alive.
“Ok, I’m gonna address the elephant in the room: First of all, I’d take you to the attic but I had it sealed, which I’m sure you guessed by now?“ He pauses for a brief moment, looking to his left and out the window through which Estra earlier saw the tree house. He too spots it, his heart dropping like he’s seeing it for the first time in his life, like it just randomly appeared on his property. “Second....would you even want to have a look at the treehouse with all the shit you know?
Once again playing the ‘unbothered’ card, Estra shrugs her shoulders to distract herself from the churning of her stomach, “If you’re ok taking me there, I’m ok seeing it.”
That was the bittersweet answer Peter didn’t even know he had been hoping for this entire time. He’s glad he can finally open up about the mess that his life has been turned into, but he’s also afraid of reliving it through the telling of the tale. Because that’s what it seems like to everyone else: a scary story to tell in the dark. Luckily for him though, to her, it seems as much of a reality as it is to him.
He nods solemnly, tilting his head to tell her to follow suit which she does without any hesitation.
As the two begin their descent down the staircase, Peter can no longer stand the silence so he decides to break it, “What got you into this stuff, anyway?”
Now that is a question she hates even more than the one questioning her authenticity in the field. It’s a very basic question that people with her job often get asked. But to her, the story of what drew her to this spiritual, supernatural crap is not an easy one to tell.
“A family tragedy too, I’m afraid.“ She hides her pain with a humorless chuckle, “The pastor that came to cleanse our house of the demon that was roaming it turned out to be a Satan worshipper. You know, just a casual, every-day Satanist, because of course that’s normal. Long story short: my dad got possessed and he killed my little brother; I killed that fucking bastard of a reverend and my mom took the fall. Her and dad are in jail and my older sister who witnessed it all is now in a mental institution.“ Having said all that in less than two breaths, Estra rightfully stops to take a breather before delivering the closing line right as they make it to the tree house, “I just wanna prevent that shit from happening to anyone else....I’m sorry I didn’t make it to your family on time.“
“Don’t apologize. They...we were beyond any help.“ He sighs as they climb up in the small treehouse, the floor of which they still find littered with some of Charlie’s belongings.
The two sit on the opposite ledges of the small opening to the latter, unable to take their eyes off one another, although Peter has a hard time maintaining eye contact with the girl which is why she averts his gaze when he hears her inhale sharply, suggesting she has something to say.
“But you aren’t Peter. You can still be helped.“
Estra too now turns her head away from him, choosing to pay more attention on her surroundings in this small but still not at all cramped space. It’s cozy, the perfect place for a child to envision as their castle. She’s sure Brian would have loved it. She had always promised him a tree house but they never got around to building one. They were, however, champions at building pillow and blanket forts which Brian was equally satisfied with.
Now she really regrets not shoving that tree house into her schedule. Now she’ll never have a chance.
Just then, a rough grip on her arm startles her out of her thoughts.
Her head snaps back to Peter and she nearly jumps out of her skin at the sight of his blank face and darkened eyes.
That ain’t Peter.
“Is that so?“ The voice still is his but with a menacing tone she sure this frail boy could never muster, “You think he isn’t beyond help? Want me to prove you wrong?“
Estra’s frozen, watching in horror as the possessed boy in front of her smiles terrifyingly at her, the bruising grip not allowing her to have a chance at an escape.
But then, a tear rolls down the boy’s cheek, some emotion returning to his eyes.
“Run.” He fights with the force he feels for the first time, a feeling so overwhelmingly painful but also comforting. It makes him feel as though he at least now isn’t a helpless victim. He can fight back, just like he’s doing right now. For her. “Go!!”
In the time Peter’s soul takes charge of his body again before Paimon could take the wheel, he let go of Estra’s arm.
The girl, although reluctantly, still begins her climb down but doesn’t make it even close to the end before simply jumping down and taking off running.
And running and running until she stops for a moment to throw up and realize she hasn’t only run miles away from the Graham estate, but from anything she could possibly use as a landmark to orient herself.
Ruffling through her bag in search of her phone, she finds the voice recorder instead. She stops the recording and grabs her phone to order herself an Uber which thankfully is able to locate her. She finds a log that in this case she sees as a perfectly fitting chair and takes a seat, hesitantly looking at the voice recorder before pressing the play button to hear what it’s captured.
It’s all old news to her - nothing unusual, no paranormal entities speaking into the thing, no sounds she doesn’t remember hearing. Nothing. A waste of time and effort on Damien’s expense.
Until the incident in the tree house occurs.
Their casual conversation as well as her words of sympathy and comfort for Peter are captured without a hitch but when Paimon took the stage, nothing was heard. No voice, no sounds of nature, nothing. Just like what happened to the audio on the way up the stairs to the second floor of the house when she saw the boy switch back and forth right in front of her.
Estra might’ve been exaggerating when she called herself a VIP and when she referred to her sister as weak because of how she dealt, or rather didn’t deal with the situation; regardless, she knows she’s not insane. She knows she didn’t just imagine that. And if the bruise on her arm is anything to go by, she’s completely correct.
She puts the phone up to her ear, listening to it ring a few times before the call is picked up, “Hey Es.”
“Hey Dam sorry to wake you up at this hour but...“
“Wake me up? At what hour, 3 PM?“ Damien asks, hiding his worry and fear behind faux amusement, “Is everything ok, Estra? You need me to come get you?“
That’s when she realizes, it’s not night. It never was. She just failed to notice that the five minutes she was up in the tree house changed the entire time of day - she entered it during the early afternoon and exited it in the dark of some time past midnight. Except, that’s not what happened. She entered and exited it in a matter of five minutes. Why she saw a dark night and why she didn’t question it is what now sends a tear rolling down her own cheek.
