𝙾, 𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙾𝚁

SHE ISN’T SURE WHAT SHE SHOULD BE AFRAID OF ANYMORE. a few years ago it was the headless woman in the graveyard. then it was the ghost that haunt the building across the street from the graveyard. the fire at the motel, the death of those families, her family. now she thinks she should be afraid of herself or shouldn’t be of anything at all. quinn bit at the inside of her cheek and tucked the books in hand in the hollow part of her elbow. 

“i didn’t know she had a kid.” a beat, quinn swallowed thickly: “i was, uh, actually here to see you.” 

‘yes,’ and then not even a second later,  ‘actually, no. no. i’m not here to see the kids. or marci.’ there is something about her that feels off. she is jumpier than usual and she pulls at her fingers while she speaks,  ’i’m here to see you. i have a problem. i need your help.’ 

@hiethen​

What do you do when things go bump in the night? When the floorboards of your empty apartment creak and there’s no excuse to be provided for the noise, no way you could hide from the fact that you are not alone? What do you do when you know that someone is coming for you, that they are right at your bedside just waiting for you to open your eyes and scream? The answer is simple when you have so few options left:    you take the knife you keep under your pillow, the one you sleep with, and you don’t wait for answers like who and why; you feel warm blood on your face; you strike first; you flee; you do not turn the light on for anything, for fear of the horror scene you might find of your own doing. You run, and keep running from your home until you remember that you are not wearing shoes, drawn to the closest ally you can sense in nothing but a tank-top and a pair of boxers, hair drenched now from the thin sheet of rain that tickles your skin. You search dark alleys, empty streets until you find someone you think could help. You feel your pursuers close behind, scenting you. You should have called someone, instead of running out here like a horror movie cliche, but here you are, a mess of bleeding feet and sheer waking panic.                               “Jude?”         What a mess she must look. Bloody face, knife dripping and held tightly in her grip. Cuts on her arms. Was there more than one person after her? How did they get into her apartment without waking her? She can barely speak, she keeps a safe distance away from those she would call ally.       “I— I - I–” 

oh ?! she’s giggling - tugging him by his arm. summoning him down on the couch ,  it seems.  “ come - come here.  ”

oh, he’s seen her around. no doubt, she’s seen him. they’ve got a MUTUAL CONNECTION: stella. jude clears his throat, scratches the side of his nose. “ she--- uh, took her kid out for somethin’. STELLA, i mean. she ain’t here. “

“ --- ya here t’see the KIDS ? “