The House Next Door

This is going to be my rp blog for the Faith:Tut rp!

[the-housenextdoor]

Hello to the rp blog ooc! I'm new to this and I've just joined the rp! I'm still kind of new to this whole thing since I'm new to tumblr in general. But I'm really excited to join! I'm really only gonna play as an oc. But my name is just S or Sophus if you call me ooc.

I have now figured out how to run a blog! So this will be it! Joy!

For those who are unaware of the lore I will have it copy pasted here!

Oc Lore:

His name is Maverick Madlock and he's just a teenager (around 16) who lives next to John. His father and mother are strict devout catholics. Maverick is a rather serious teenager. He doesnt have many friends (or any at all). The local kids say that he does live up to his name of being "mad". The adults think he's sick in the head. Honeslty he might be. He's very good at putting up a perfect "good christian boy" front in the presence of adults. Yet they know how he acts anyways. Behind closed doors.. He's a demon from hell. He hangs around the local church often. Praying the rosary. Reading a bible tabbed and annotated in every margin in messy slanted cursive. God knows who this kid is. He's a perfect little angel really. Few have really seen the demonic fire that rages inside of him. (I have been writing Maverick to have sociopathic tendencies but I am going to research ASPD (Anti Social Personality Disorder) more to make sure I am not being in any way incorrect or offensive to those who have the mental illness! I do not want to make the mental illness seem villianized in any way! Many people with ASPD actually do live a normal life with proper medications and therapies! The only reason I will write my oc in this way is because the timeline most takes place in the late 80s without much knowledge on the mental illness. And because Maverick's parents don't know how to handle his behavior so they let him run wild. Thank you! And dont be afraid to inform me if I do write something incorrectly!)

Family Matters:

Mother and Father are strict Catholics. They live two houses down from John Ward. In that cute little red brick family home with the white picket fence. Truly the American dream. Father's name is Sebastian Madlock. Mother's name is Agatha Madlock.

Looks for Maverick:

He has inky black hair that falls to the nape of his neck in extremely unruly, fluffy layers. He had the same unruly curtain bangs framing his face. His hair a mess of waves and soft curls and fluffiness yet still tame enough to look proper. He has softer facial features than most boys his age. He had extremely tan and sunkissed skin not to mention his skin was littered with freckles. Literally. He had freckles all over his body from what it seemed. His cheeks, forehead, face, neck, collarbones, chest, arms, legs, waist, etc. The brown flecks absolutely covered his skin in large constellations. He always wore a dark black collared shirt with black dress pants and black Doc Martens on the days were they got to be out of uniform. He wore a saint necklace of Saint Agatha of Sicily. The Saint he had chosen for his confirmation. He has cold brown eyes that genuinely appeared black. Maybe they were black. No one ever got close enough to tell. They were harsh and apathetic. Observing and sharp. He's watching. His nails were short from biting them constantly. Bleeding at the edges sometimes. He has a look of perfection and messiness. Two sides of that same coin.

(He looks exactly like his mother for reference. Like a mini-me of her!)

Thank you! Super excited to rp on this new blog!

Adding a few bits of information!

I unfortunately cannot color code my character because I am on mobile and most of the colors have already been used. I will simply stick with a bold text to identify Maverick.

Maverick will be bolded.

His parents (Sebastion & Morana) will be italicized.

Also he volunteers at the Open Arms Shelter because his parents forced him because they often can't handle how he acts.

[the-housenextdoor]

Roughly fifteen minutes had passed before John finally, and rather sheepishly, arrived at the Madlocks’ doorstep. He’d been here once or twice before and from his knowledge they were a gracious, well-meaning family. But still, he hesitated.

He hesitated more now, more often. Alu’s presence was always circling, always coiled somewhere behind his ribs, always whispering. And worse- acting. The only reason he needed this cleaner in the first place was because of him. Another animal. Mutilated beyond recognition. Left neatly in the kitchen like a gift. He’d woken up beside it, soaked in blood that wasn’t his own.

How delightful!

Truly a splendid way to greet the morning!

He hadn’t even noticed he’d been standing there for some time, just...staring at their front door. Lost in it. The hum behind his eyes. The weight on his hands. When he finally blinked and came back to himself, a faint, embarrassed flush crept up his face. He cleared his throat softly and gave the wood a gentle, polite knock, forcing himself upright and straightening the front of his cassock.

The picture of composure.

Perfectly normal. Perfectly fine.

Just a priest. Just a guest. Nothing more.

Morana had been happily spending her days enjoying her many many hobbies. The Madlock family was extremely well off, a combination of generational wealth and Mr. Madlock's job as a lawyer. Morana had been a stay at home mother for a while, mostly to keep her troublesome son, Maverick in line. Oh that boy was known for things.. not good ones either. The incident at thw Open Arms Shelther.. with the bleach.. gave any volunteer shivers. People were always unnerved in his presence. Even his own parents. Now Maverick was older. He was the perfect Good Christian Boy everywhere. Except when he strayed from such good christianly activities in his free time. Creepy ass kid. Luckily he was volunteering at the Open Arms due to his parents forcing him too. Thank God for that..

Mrs. Madlock had many many hobbies. Jam making, lace making, tailoring, baking, hell she even used to play the violin professionally. She was well known tailor in the town aswell. She had even made the altar sever robes for Jonah's Keep a while back. She had also recently made some of the girls' first communion and confirmation dresses each year if they weren't well off financially. She kept herself busy and was such a wonderful and sweet woman. She made sure every house, business, and organization in that entire small town got a large tray of snickerdoodle cookies each year during Christmas. A gem she was. When she heard the doorbell being rung, she walked right on over. Wiping any flour on her floral apron she had made herself.

"Oh Father John! Truly wonderful you've made it! Come in! Come in! You must be famished, it's about lunch anyways. I'll get you a sandwhich, some lemonade, and some fresh cookies! Have a seat!" God she was so nice. Truly an angel she was.

She didnt even seem to mind the blood stained on Father John's clothes. She was probably used to it since she did work on clothes as a side hustle. She came back with a tray with a sandwhich cut in half, a tall glass of lemonade, and a tray of perfectly cooked, fresh chocolate chip cookies as she sat down on the armchair across from the floral couch in her living room. One of those fancy Japanese televisions mounted inside of a mahogany bookshelf with dozens of vhs tapes and other media in the cabinets. Their house was nice. Extremely nice. It looked lived in, like any grandmother's home, yet it was so fancy. Mrs. Madlock grabbed her knitting supplies as she spoke again.

"So nice of you to join me dear! I'll get that cleaner for you after you've eaten. And for that blood in your shirt I find that cold water, some salt and a nice soak will do you wonders!" She had said in her chipper tone as she knitted away.

[wardofthecross-deactivated20250]

“Mrs. Madlock,” John greeted softly, bowing his head as a show of respect before stepping inside. “Thank you ever so much. I truly appreciate this.”

It really did feel like his lucky day. He hadn’t eaten in…well, who knows how long….Time had a way of slipping by unnoticed when your nights were filled with unpleasant surprises. But there was food now, and that was what mattered.

He glanced around the home, taking in its warm, well-kept atmosphere. How they managed to keep it so clean with a full household, he couldn’t fathom. He could barely keep a single room in order, let alone an entire house…But that thought only lingered a moment before he turned his focus back to Mrs. Madlock.

She handed him a tray, which he accepted with both hands and a quiet thank you, then (out of habit) he sat cross legged on the floor. The furniture was there, yes, but after spending so much time at the church with youth groups, it just felt more natural to settle on the floor.

As he adjusted the tray in his lap, Mrs. Madlock’s voice broke through to him.

He blinked, then quickly gazed downward.

Blood.

His stomach sank. It was faint but unmistakable, dried and crusted just near the hem. Likely from the kitchen this morning- he hadn’t even noticed it. Of course he hadn’t.

A flush rose hot to his face. “Ah…thank you, I-I hadn’t realised,” he murmured, trying to play it off with an awkward little smile, though his insides writhed with shame. He tugged the fabric to cover the worst of it, then lowered his gaze again.

“Thank you again, Mrs. Madlock,” he said quietly, voice a bit more subdued now. He picked at the food delicately, trying not to make a sound, not to take up space as if he could somehow disappear entirely if he just ate quietly enough.

Another habit. A familiar one. Make yourself small. Make yourself forgettable. Maybe, if you’re lucky, no one will notice what you’ve become.

[the-housenextdoor]

The Madlock's home was extremely nice. Every piece of furniture was definitely not cheap. The Madlock's probably had enough money for a whole mansion but apparently Mrs. Madlock refused to buy one because she enjoyed the tight-knit community of Sterling.

Mrs. Madlock was truly an angel sent from Earth. She poured her entire soul into helping others. She was the communities little gem. Every hour, eveey dollar that she owned was put into charity, helping the church, materials for baking and tailoring. An angel that woman was.

Sebastain Madlock on the other hand... He was cold. To put it nicely. And not to mention their son was just.. unnerving to be around.

Mrs. Madlock didn't mind Father John sitting on the floor nor how quiet he was. She merely knitted and talked. Mrs. Madlock could ramble on for hours. She was always able to turn the most mundane stories about her day into a thrilling tale. She talked about recent community work. What could be changed for the better. How well the community was recovering so well after a recent tornado. She talked on and on. It was like she could tell that Father John needed a break from his thoughts. She was very intuitive when she wanted to be.

After Father John finished his sandwhich and lemonade, Mrs. Madlock took away the tray and came back with a few items. The floor cleaner which had been the main goal, a full plate of freshly baked cookies, and white vestments.

Mrs. Madlock spoke cheerily, "Oh Deacon Wyborn sent these Christmas vestments by a few weeks ago for a good cleaning and repair. Fixed it right on up. Do return these for me will you dear?" Mrs. Madlock had that sweet tone. Never condescending. Never rude. Hell... it might have been physically impossible for Mrs. Madlock to be cruel, or even say a rude word.

The white Christmas vestments had seen better days but even through the clear wrap that protected the fabric it was easy to tell that Mrs. Madlock worked her magic and had restored it nicely.

Mrs. Madlock always sent people out of her house in a better mood than they came in. She was a perfect host and welcomed everyone into her home. She waved Father John off with a smile and those three items. Rarely anyone left her house unhappy, and most of the time it was due to her husband.

[pumpkin-femme-deactivated201411]

Your feminism isn’t worth shit if it doesn’t defend trans women

[gaybichon]

LMFAO

[odd-maid3n]

[knight--error]

[the-housenextdoor]

Roughly fifteen minutes had passed before John finally, and rather sheepishly, arrived at the Madlocks’ doorstep. He’d been here once or twice before and from his knowledge they were a gracious, well-meaning family. But still, he hesitated.

He hesitated more now, more often. Alu’s presence was always circling, always coiled somewhere behind his ribs, always whispering. And worse- acting. The only reason he needed this cleaner in the first place was because of him. Another animal. Mutilated beyond recognition. Left neatly in the kitchen like a gift. He’d woken up beside it, soaked in blood that wasn’t his own.

How delightful!

Truly a splendid way to greet the morning!

He hadn’t even noticed he’d been standing there for some time, just...staring at their front door. Lost in it. The hum behind his eyes. The weight on his hands. When he finally blinked and came back to himself, a faint, embarrassed flush crept up his face. He cleared his throat softly and gave the wood a gentle, polite knock, forcing himself upright and straightening the front of his cassock.

The picture of composure.

Perfectly normal. Perfectly fine.

Just a priest. Just a guest. Nothing more.

Morana had been happily spending her days enjoying her many many hobbies. The Madlock family was extremely well off, a combination of generational wealth and Mr. Madlock's job as a lawyer. Morana had been a stay at home mother for a while, mostly to keep her troublesome son, Maverick in line. Oh that boy was known for things.. not good ones either. The incident at thw Open Arms Shelther.. with the bleach.. gave any volunteer shivers. People were always unnerved in his presence. Even his own parents. Now Maverick was older. He was the perfect Good Christian Boy everywhere. Except when he strayed from such good christianly activities in his free time. Creepy ass kid. Luckily he was volunteering at the Open Arms due to his parents forcing him too. Thank God for that..

Mrs. Madlock had many many hobbies. Jam making, lace making, tailoring, baking, hell she even used to play the violin professionally. She was well known tailor in the town aswell. She had even made the altar sever robes for Jonah's Keep a while back. She had also recently made some of the girls' first communion and confirmation dresses each year if they weren't well off financially. She kept herself busy and was such a wonderful and sweet woman. She made sure every house, business, and organization in that entire small town got a large tray of snickerdoodle cookies each year during Christmas. A gem she was. When she heard the doorbell being rung, she walked right on over. Wiping any flour on her floral apron she had made herself.

"Oh Father John! Truly wonderful you've made it! Come in! Come in! You must be famished, it's about lunch anyways. I'll get you a sandwhich, some lemonade, and some fresh cookies! Have a seat!" God she was so nice. Truly an angel she was.

She didnt even seem to mind the blood stained on Father John's clothes. She was probably used to it since she did work on clothes as a side hustle. She came back with a tray with a sandwhich cut in half, a tall glass of lemonade, and a tray of perfectly cooked, fresh chocolate chip cookies as she sat down on the armchair across from the floral couch in her living room. One of those fancy Japanese televisions mounted inside of a mahogany bookshelf with dozens of vhs tapes and other media in the cabinets. Their house was nice. Extremely nice. It looked lived in, like any grandmother's home, yet it was so fancy. Mrs. Madlock grabbed her knitting supplies as she spoke again.

"So nice of you to join me dear! I'll get that cleaner for you after you've eaten. And for that blood in your shirt I find that cold water, some salt and a nice soak will do you wonders!" She had said in her chipper tone as she knitted away.

[wardofthecross-deactivated20250]

My children, please forgive the tone of my previous post. I was.. not entirely myself at the time. That moment has passed. I assure you, all is well now.

On a completely unrelated note, does anyone happen to know a particularly strong wood-safe floor cleaner? I’ve made a bit of a mess, I’ve spilled something rather stubborn and it refuses to come up no matter how hard I scrub. It’s beginning to stain.

Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated!

[the-housenextdoor]

Oh sweetie! Murphy Oil Soap works perfectly for tough stains on those floors! It's all natural aswell! If you need a bottle stop by my door anytime!

Sincerely,

Mrs. Madlock

[wardofthecross-deactivated20250]

Ah, Mrs. Madlock! Bless you. I’m deeply grateful. If it’s not too much trouble, I’ll come by within the next hour. I do hope that’s agreeable to you and your household?

Again, thank you ever so much! Your kindness does not go unnoticed.

Every blessing,

- Father Ward

[the-housenextdoor]

Of course sweetheart! You are welcome anytime! I have a batch of fresh cookies in the oven and a glass of homemade jam if you ever want some! See you then!

Sincerely,

Mrs. Madlock

[wardofthecross-deactivated20250]

My children, please forgive the tone of my previous post. I was.. not entirely myself at the time. That moment has passed. I assure you, all is well now.

On a completely unrelated note, does anyone happen to know a particularly strong wood-safe floor cleaner? I’ve made a bit of a mess, I’ve spilled something rather stubborn and it refuses to come up no matter how hard I scrub. It’s beginning to stain.

Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated!

[the-housenextdoor]

Oh sweetie! Murphy Oil Soap works perfectly for tough stains on those floors! It's all natural aswell! If you need a bottle stop by my door anytime!

Sincerely,

Mrs. Madlock

[the-open-arms]

That same tannish bike was leaning against the shelter. Great.. Maverick Madlock was here. That kid.. The quiet one. The kid who never spoke. Never let anyone get too close. The one with the too messy hair and the tanned, freckled skin. The one with the horrifyingly endless, apathetic black eyes. The kid who's revenge schemes were something no average teenager would think of. He had been volunteering for a few weeks now. His parents had forced him because they thought that 'Some community service will do him well'. Yeah right.. All Maverick does is wander around, mumble cryptic things under his breath when no one is watching, and is very hostile to any of the guests who ask for assistance. He isnt allowed near the guests anymore after.. the incident. No one likes speaking of it. The kid only causes more trouble than good. He is only allowed to clean. Because last time they put him in charge of cooking he tried to poison one of the guests with bleach. Ms. Abner couldn't do much about Maverick. He always covered his tracks a little too well. To the point he could get away with everything. But that didnt matter. He was here now. And the shelter didn't look as bright as it usually did with Maverick around. That tan bike was always a sign no one liked to see outside. No doubt the freckled kid was inside. How did he even get in? Ms. Abner hadnt even opened the doors yet. God knows.. Atleast no one was in there for him to harm.

(First time initiating this-)

The walk back to the shelter was usually an easy one.

It's only a couple of blocks on foot, and you're already at the door of The Open Arms, keys jangling in your hands. Yet for the past few weeks it was getting more and more difficult to walk this particular path.

The threatening messages, the strange dreams and, of course, him - Maverick Madlock. The kid that seems to come up with more and more stuff to mess up the work of the shelter. Despite Ramona insistently telling Mr and Mrs Madlock that the work at the shelter is a volunteer one and shouldn't be used as a 'lesson', they weren't listening.

And look what it led to - a visitor of the shelter nearly poisoned and a lot more scared to death, the other volunteers struggling to remain in the building when the teen is there. Letting him do jobs that don't require interaction with people was the least she could do.

Seeing the bike at the front of the shelter made Abner sight. She had no idea how he managed to do this several times, let alone why, but she knew one thing for certain - it's gonna be a huge headache for her no matter what.

Opening the door that was already unlocked with her stiff hands, she stood for a moment, listening for any sounds. Then, after not hearing a single sound but knowing he's there, she finally spoke loudly to be heard:

"C'mon, kid, I know you're here!" Her tone wasn't outright hostile, but wasn't happy either.

@the-housenextdoor

[the-housenextdoor]

There was silence in that damn shelter. Maverick never came out voluntarily. They would just have to wait. Even after guests started popping in and out Maverick hadnt really shown up.

Other than once where he walked into the large communal room area to see who was there. Two elderly folks. One child who had been showing up often. Three adults. And one teenage boy who was Maverick's age. Seven guests of the shelter was a little more than average. But never too much where the other volunteers had to get Maverick involved.

None of the other volunteers liked Maverick either. They called him creepy or hostile. Or just downright terrifying to be around. Everyone flinched whenever he walked into a room. However the boy seemed to be behaving himself today. Nothing sinister had been plotted yet. Maverick also seemed to be more social. And by social that meant hiding in one of the closets, peeking out to stare at the guests. There wasnt much to get him in trouble over. He'd gotten all of his cleaning done. So they let him stare. None of the guests seemed to notice. However it did appear for Maverick to have taken an interest in the other teenage boy. His cold black eyes locked on the other. Staring. Not quite empty in the way they usually were.

His view was suddenly blocked by a green dress. He looked up ever so slightly to see Ms. Abner blocking his view from the closet. No doubt he was about to get scolded. It never worked. He never seemed to feel any remorse for his actions. He didnt say a word. Only met Ms. Abner's gaze with that terrifying empty gaze. The interest that had filled his eyes was now gone. Instantly. Now blank and staring back up at the other woman.

[the-open-arms]

Ramona has been searching for Maverick for the whole day. Of course she had some other things to do around the shelter, but the moment she wasn't too busy she asked the other people if they've seen the boy. Earning a positive reply she just sighted. Guess it was just one of the days when she couldn't catch him.

That is, until her gaze fell at the crack in the closet. A watchful eye was there, observing the guests (or at least one guest in particular). Letting out a quiet but frustrated sight, she went towards the dors of the closet, peeking into it, staring back at the black, cold eyes, with her own green ones.

Something about the teen creeped her out. Not just his violent behaviour - the way he spoke, the way he stared at people - it all made her uncomfortable, like many. In moments when he was truly dangerous she had the urge to just pull his arm and squeez it for she knew that her grip was far more intense then that of an average person

'He's just a teen,' She rationalised, 'And brute force would hardly change things.'

So she restrained herself, trying to act as calm as possible, while trying to coax Maverick to come out.

"Well?" She asked, rising an eyebrow, "Wanna come out?"

[the-housenextdoor]

Maverick scowled slightly when the woman spoke. His shoulders tightened into a more defensive posture. Previously they had been relaxed, calm even. He had just been staring at that boy.

The teenage boy staying here was named Sebastian Sane. He had blond hair (nearly browned with dirt when he got here) and bright golden hazel eyes. The boy was relatively pale, except he had been extremely sunburnt. He was from a few states over. His parents had kicked him out. He had been staying at the shelter for a few days by that point. He was rather skinny, having lived off beef jerky and root beer until he had arrived. But Sebastian was a ray of sunshine. He was kind, charming, and very polite.

And Maverick seemed to have taken a liking to the boy. God knows what that meant. It probably wasnt a good thing either. He had been staring at that poor guy ruthlessly for awhile now. It was surprising there hadnt been a hole burnt into the side of his head.

Maverick didnt say anything. His tanned skin flushing just ever so slightly, his freckles hiding it mostly. He could've been embarassed, but Maverick had never really felt embarassment before. He opened his mouth and spoke with such polite formality it was like Abner wasnt speaking to the kid who had been trying to start a fire in the kitchen a few days ago.

"That's alright ma'am. I was just taking a break."

God this kid was creepy as shit. He stepped out of the closet and walked away. Probably to hide somewhere again. Or cause trouble. He was so much like cat. A stray cat more specifically. Something about Sebastain had gotten his interest. It was probably best to keep Sebastain far away from Maverick. For his safety.

[the-open-arms]

Ramona barely spoke with the kid and he's already off to somewhere else. All she's left to do is stare as he goes his own way.

A break. In the closet. While looking at other people.

Sure, some of the people at the shelter hid in some dark, quiet places when the atmosphere is the shelter was too overwhelming, but that was deffinetly not the case. She looked over the guests in the reception, the once that were in the potential view of Maverick. An adult man, few older folks and a teen around Maverick's age, nearly a polar opposite of him.

A terrible feeling made its way into Abner's guts as she looked at each one of them. The teen wasn't showing any signs of hostility, but she preffered to stay cautious. She spent all possible time with those people, simultaneously keeping an eye on the teenager and making sure that the bleach did not fall into his hands again. The previous incident was still fresh in her mind.

'Not a workday, but some kind of baby-sitting' She thought bitterly as she handed a new set of clothes to an elderly woman.

[the-housenextdoor]

(OOC: IM BACK)

Over these next few days Maverick had been unusually well behaved. It was genuinely baffling. He still arrived at the shelter before everyone else, except for the volunteers who worked the night shift to take care of the guests. Maverick had been surprisingly on his best behavior. No incidents, no complaints about him, no trouble. It was odd. Too odd to be normal.

Yet he didnt seem to be plotting anything malicious. He seemed rather social too. Well.. social in his way. When Maverick was social that purely meant he was in the same room as somebody else looking at them. Now more than ever he had been social. Staring at that same blond haired boy from that same place in the closet. No one except for Ms. Abner really knew he hid in there.

Maverick would get a good thirty minute staring session in before Ms. Abner would find him. She would always stand there. Looking at him expectantly. Maverick wouldnt show any sort of emotion, then he would compose himself and scurry off and never be seen until he left on his tanned bicycle.

Maverick's behavior had been off. Something about him had shifted. It was unclear if he was plotting something or just being a tad more mellow than he usually was.

Today he was in his closet per usual watching Sebastian from a distance as he had been recently. Until the other boy had finally spotted Maverick in the closet. His brow furrowed looked around at the other guests in confusion. Then back at Maverick. Sebastian wasted no time in telling Ms. Abner what he had seen. Not necessarily a complaint.. more of a concerned observation. However by the time Ramona had gotten to the closet. Maverick was gone. Because of course he fucking was. However no harm had come in anyone's way. He would be back in a few hours. Most of the cleaning was done anyways...

[the-open-arms]

That same tannish bike was leaning against the shelter. Great.. Maverick Madlock was here. That kid.. The quiet one. The kid who never spoke. Never let anyone get too close. The one with the too messy hair and the tanned, freckled skin. The one with the horrifyingly endless, apathetic black eyes. The kid who's revenge schemes were something no average teenager would think of. He had been volunteering for a few weeks now. His parents had forced him because they thought that 'Some community service will do him well'. Yeah right.. All Maverick does is wander around, mumble cryptic things under his breath when no one is watching, and is very hostile to any of the guests who ask for assistance. He isnt allowed near the guests anymore after.. the incident. No one likes speaking of it. The kid only causes more trouble than good. He is only allowed to clean. Because last time they put him in charge of cooking he tried to poison one of the guests with bleach. Ms. Abner couldn't do much about Maverick. He always covered his tracks a little too well. To the point he could get away with everything. But that didnt matter. He was here now. And the shelter didn't look as bright as it usually did with Maverick around. That tan bike was always a sign no one liked to see outside. No doubt the freckled kid was inside. How did he even get in? Ms. Abner hadnt even opened the doors yet. God knows.. Atleast no one was in there for him to harm.

(First time initiating this-)

The walk back to the shelter was usually an easy one.

It's only a couple of blocks on foot, and you're already at the door of The Open Arms, keys jangling in your hands. Yet for the past few weeks it was getting more and more difficult to walk this particular path.

The threatening messages, the strange dreams and, of course, him - Maverick Madlock. The kid that seems to come up with more and more stuff to mess up the work of the shelter. Despite Ramona insistently telling Mr and Mrs Madlock that the work at the shelter is a volunteer one and shouldn't be used as a 'lesson', they weren't listening.

And look what it led to - a visitor of the shelter nearly poisoned and a lot more scared to death, the other volunteers struggling to remain in the building when the teen is there. Letting him do jobs that don't require interaction with people was the least she could do.

Seeing the bike at the front of the shelter made Abner sight. She had no idea how he managed to do this several times, let alone why, but she knew one thing for certain - it's gonna be a huge headache for her no matter what.

Opening the door that was already unlocked with her stiff hands, she stood for a moment, listening for any sounds. Then, after not hearing a single sound but knowing he's there, she finally spoke loudly to be heard:

"C'mon, kid, I know you're here!" Her tone wasn't outright hostile, but wasn't happy either.

@the-housenextdoor

[the-housenextdoor]

There was silence in that damn shelter. Maverick never came out voluntarily. They would just have to wait. Even after guests started popping in and out Maverick hadnt really shown up.

Other than once where he walked into the large communal room area to see who was there. Two elderly folks. One child who had been showing up often. Three adults. And one teenage boy who was Maverick's age. Seven guests of the shelter was a little more than average. But never too much where the other volunteers had to get Maverick involved.

None of the other volunteers liked Maverick either. They called him creepy or hostile. Or just downright terrifying to be around. Everyone flinched whenever he walked into a room. However the boy seemed to be behaving himself today. Nothing sinister had been plotted yet. Maverick also seemed to be more social. And by social that meant hiding in one of the closets, peeking out to stare at the guests. There wasnt much to get him in trouble over. He'd gotten all of his cleaning done. So they let him stare. None of the guests seemed to notice. However it did appear for Maverick to have taken an interest in the other teenage boy. His cold black eyes locked on the other. Staring. Not quite empty in the way they usually were.

His view was suddenly blocked by a green dress. He looked up ever so slightly to see Ms. Abner blocking his view from the closet. No doubt he was about to get scolded. It never worked. He never seemed to feel any remorse for his actions. He didnt say a word. Only met Ms. Abner's gaze with that terrifying empty gaze. The interest that had filled his eyes was now gone. Instantly. Now blank and staring back up at the other woman.

[the-open-arms]

Ramona has been searching for Maverick for the whole day. Of course she had some other things to do around the shelter, but the moment she wasn't too busy she asked the other people if they've seen the boy. Earning a positive reply she just sighted. Guess it was just one of the days when she couldn't catch him.

That is, until her gaze fell at the crack in the closet. A watchful eye was there, observing the guests (or at least one guest in particular). Letting out a quiet but frustrated sight, she went towards the dors of the closet, peeking into it, staring back at the black, cold eyes, with her own green ones.

Something about the teen creeped her out. Not just his violent behaviour - the way he spoke, the way he stared at people - it all made her uncomfortable, like many. In moments when he was truly dangerous she had the urge to just pull his arm and squeez it for she knew that her grip was far more intense then that of an average person

'He's just a teen,' She rationalised, 'And brute force would hardly change things.'

So she restrained herself, trying to act as calm as possible, while trying to coax Maverick to come out.

"Well?" She asked, rising an eyebrow, "Wanna come out?"

[the-housenextdoor]

Maverick scowled slightly when the woman spoke. His shoulders tightened into a more defensive posture. Previously they had been relaxed, calm even. He had just been staring at that boy.

The teenage boy staying here was named Sebastian Sane. He had blond hair (nearly browned with dirt when he got here) and bright golden hazel eyes. The boy was relatively pale, except he had been extremely sunburnt. He was from a few states over. His parents had kicked him out. He had been staying at the shelter for a few days by that point. He was rather skinny, having lived off beef jerky and root beer until he had arrived. But Sebastian was a ray of sunshine. He was kind, charming, and very polite.

And Maverick seemed to have taken a liking to the boy. God knows what that meant. It probably wasnt a good thing either. He had been staring at that poor guy ruthlessly for awhile now. It was surprising there hadnt been a hole burnt into the side of his head.

Maverick didnt say anything. His tanned skin flushing just ever so slightly, his freckles hiding it mostly. He could've been embarassed, but Maverick had never really felt embarassment before. He opened his mouth and spoke with such polite formality it was like Abner wasnt speaking to the kid who had been trying to start a fire in the kitchen a few days ago.

"That's alright ma'am. I was just taking a break."

God this kid was creepy as shit. He stepped out of the closet and walked away. Probably to hide somewhere again. Or cause trouble. He was so much like cat. A stray cat more specifically. Something about Sebastain had gotten his interest. It was probably best to keep Sebastain far away from Maverick. For his safety.

[the-open-arms]

That same tannish bike was leaning against the shelter. Great.. Maverick Madlock was here. That kid.. The quiet one. The kid who never spoke. Never let anyone get too close. The one with the too messy hair and the tanned, freckled skin. The one with the horrifyingly endless, apathetic black eyes. The kid who's revenge schemes were something no average teenager would think of. He had been volunteering for a few weeks now. His parents had forced him because they thought that 'Some community service will do him well'. Yeah right.. All Maverick does is wander around, mumble cryptic things under his breath when no one is watching, and is very hostile to any of the guests who ask for assistance. He isnt allowed near the guests anymore after.. the incident. No one likes speaking of it. The kid only causes more trouble than good. He is only allowed to clean. Because last time they put him in charge of cooking he tried to poison one of the guests with bleach. Ms. Abner couldn't do much about Maverick. He always covered his tracks a little too well. To the point he could get away with everything. But that didnt matter. He was here now. And the shelter didn't look as bright as it usually did with Maverick around. That tan bike was always a sign no one liked to see outside. No doubt the freckled kid was inside. How did he even get in? Ms. Abner hadnt even opened the doors yet. God knows.. Atleast no one was in there for him to harm.

(First time initiating this-)

The walk back to the shelter was usually an easy one.

It's only a couple of blocks on foot, and you're already at the door of The Open Arms, keys jangling in your hands. Yet for the past few weeks it was getting more and more difficult to walk this particular path.

The threatening messages, the strange dreams and, of course, him - Maverick Madlock. The kid that seems to come up with more and more stuff to mess up the work of the shelter. Despite Ramona insistently telling Mr and Mrs Madlock that the work at the shelter is a volunteer one and shouldn't be used as a 'lesson', they weren't listening.

And look what it led to - a visitor of the shelter nearly poisoned and a lot more scared to death, the other volunteers struggling to remain in the building when the teen is there. Letting him do jobs that don't require interaction with people was the least she could do.

Seeing the bike at the front of the shelter made Abner sight. She had no idea how he managed to do this several times, let alone why, but she knew one thing for certain - it's gonna be a huge headache for her no matter what.

Opening the door that was already unlocked with her stiff hands, she stood for a moment, listening for any sounds. Then, after not hearing a single sound but knowing he's there, she finally spoke loudly to be heard:

"C'mon, kid, I know you're here!" Her tone wasn't outright hostile, but wasn't happy either.

@the-housenextdoor

[the-housenextdoor]

There was silence in that damn shelter. Maverick never came out voluntarily. They would just have to wait. Even after guests started popping in and out Maverick hadnt really shown up.

Other than once where he walked into the large communal room area to see who was there. Two elderly folks. One child who had been showing up often. Three adults. And one teenage boy who was Maverick's age. Seven guests of the shelter was a little more than average. But never too much where the other volunteers had to get Maverick involved.

None of the other volunteers liked Maverick either. They called him creepy or hostile. Or just downright terrifying to be around. Everyone flinched whenever he walked into a room. However the boy seemed to be behaving himself today. Nothing sinister had been plotted yet. Maverick also seemed to be more social. And by social that meant hiding in one of the closets, peeking out to stare at the guests. There wasnt much to get him in trouble over. He'd gotten all of his cleaning done. So they let him stare. None of the guests seemed to notice. However it did appear for Maverick to have taken an interest in the other teenage boy. His cold black eyes locked on the other. Staring. Not quite empty in the way they usually were.

His view was suddenly blocked by a green dress. He looked up ever so slightly to see Ms. Abner blocking his view from the closet. No doubt he was about to get scolded. It never worked. He never seemed to feel any remorse for his actions. He didnt say a word. Only met Ms. Abner's gaze with that terrifying empty gaze. The interest that had filled his eyes was now gone. Instantly. Now blank and staring back up at the other woman.

[wardofthecross-deactivated20250]

S. Madlock

April 4, ???? (the date is unreadable in such messy handwriting)

Dear Father Ward,

My name is Mr. Madlock. Me and my family (wife and son) live in the red house two houses down from you. I know we aren't the most sociable of people. I wouldn't be sending this letter if it werent important. I figured a preist would be some help. My son you see.. He's a good kid really. Wouldn't raise him any other way. He's been acting out lately. Bursts of severe anger. Lack of empathy. Hardly feels guilt for any wrong doings of his own. Socially isolates to the point he refuses to come out of his room. He's always been like this even since he was little.. However it seems so much worse. It's... hard to tell new behavior from the old. Ever since school has let out he refuses to come out of his room. I've been forcing him to go volunteer at a shelter in town. The one owned by Ms. Abner. Every day he comes home. Irritable and severely angry. Red paint all over his hands. Occasionally blood. God knows where it's coming from. I don't know whether it's his or someone else's. Ms. Abner has sent me several letter addressing her concerns about Maverick's hostility towards nearly every person at the shelter. It's not normal teenager angst. Something horrible. Something darker I tell you. My son hasn't always been.. mentally sound. But it's gotten worse. Almost the work of the devil. Please come talk to him. Anything to get him to behave again...

Sincerely with much regard,

Sebastian Madlock.

April 6th, ????

Fr. John Ward

To Mr. Sebastian Madlock,

Thank you for writing to me.

I know it’s not easy to reach out to a stranger about something so personal, but I want you to know I take your letter seriously. Pain has a way of isolating us. I’ve seen it firsthand, and I don’t think any parent should have to face it alone.

I’ve recently begun visiting Ms. Abner’s shelter. Just a handful of visits, nothing official. But I do recall hearing Maverick’s name. I didn’t speak with him directly, but I have noticed the way people shift when he walks into the room.

What you’ve described in your letter is not something to be ignored. I won’t pretend I have easy answers. I’m not a doctor, and I can’t promise healing. But I’ve spent my life walking in places people call cursed and sometimes, it’s not just in the walls. Sometimes it’s in us, or around us, or clawing to get in.

If you’ll have me, I’d like to speak with Maverick. Gently. No sermon, no salt and holy water unless it becomes necessary. I only want to understand and maybe offer a way through this. If he’ll let me.

Please feel free to stop by my home, or send another letter if that feels safer. I’ll be here and I’ll come when asked.

You're not alone in this.

In faith and hope,

Father John Ward

[the-housenextdoor]

April 8th, ???

Thank you Father Ward. As soon as possible would be good. Maybe April 11th? That's really the only day that works. God please.. His bouts of anger are so severe to the point even I am scared of him. He doesnt throw tantrums. He doesnt yell. He doesnt even fight or throw things. He sits there in silence. He waits for you to become vulnerable. Initially he just did petty acts of revenge. Scaring the living hell out of us by dragging dead things into the house. Standing in dark corners. Then it escalated. He carefully rips apart our clothes with a seam ripper to the point it is unnoticable until you put the article of clothing on. He tried to put rat poison in my food last night.. God I'm terrified of my own kid. You would never have guessed it. He's such an angel on the outside. Going to church. Praying the rosary everyday. His bible is annotated top to bottom. But sometimes I wonder if he's even praying to God at all... He wants to see others suffer. It's so hard living with such a demon.

Come as soon as possible. I can't take it anymore.

Sincerely,

Sebastian Madlock