Wagyu🥩🖋️

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You felt incredibly warm, like there was a soft freshly-washed blanket wrapped around you. It was comforting, like a warm hug from someone you loved deeply.

It was pitch black, well..not completely. Short bursts of faint colors and patterns dance across the void like paint in water. It was somewhat pretty, the urge to reach your hand out to try and touch the colors trickles through your mind but you couldn't move your arm.

Why couldn't you move your arm?

Maybe you should wake up..Oh..Was that why your vision is black? Were your eyes closed?

You try to open your eyes but your eyelids felt far too heavy to do so, a part of you wanted to keep them closed as you quite enjoyed the sleep you were having but another part was urgent in waking up. Come on, try again..If it doesn't work this time you can go back to sleep.

Might be hard to do so, whatever that beeping sound was is pretty annoying, and that mumbling. You were trying to sleep, why were there people talking in your bedroom? Hell, why were they even in your room in the first place?

You let out a deep breath through your nose, attempting to open your eyes once more. They slowly flutter open, snapping shut for a moment when bright light shone directly into your eyes making you groan. The beeping grew louder but the talking went silent.

Your vision was so blurry..ugh. You rub your eyes with the side of your fingers, trying to rub away the sleep so you can see your bedroom.

Though, with a second glance and few more seconds of your brain connecting the dots. You realize you aren't in your bedroom, you were in a hospital room.

Why the hell were you in the hospital?

Your head was beginning to pound, making you let out another groan but instead of annoyance, it was one of pain.

"Don't worry, hun. The morphine will kick in shortly.".

You blink a couple of times, realizing there was a tall woman standing beside your bed checking the monitors that were connected to you by wires.

With her close, you could smell roses coming off of her. It was a nice scent.

You swallow, throat feeling so fucking dry which made you cringe uncontrollably. The nurse, you assumed, noticed that you were thirsty and softly smiled, "I'll get you some more water.". She straightened her back and turns her head to look at something on the other side of you, "I'll be back, you know how to reach me if something occurs.". In drowsy curiosity, you slowly turn your head to the other side of the hospital bed and see your mother sitting there.

"Thank you, Ms. Carpenter." Your mother thanked with genuine sweetness, you heard the nurse leave as you kept your eyes on your mom.

"Mom?" You breathlessly whisper, oh god it hurt to speak, what happened? Why were you here? Why does the back of your head hurt so bad along with your throat..and now that you noticed, why was there a dull pain on your thigh? You try to shift your leg but your mother quickly shot her hand out and placed it on your stomach.

"No, no. Don't move, baby. You'll pop open your stitches.." Mom softly orders. Her touch is light, as if any other pressure would end with you shattered.

Stitches?

"Mom..Mom, what.." You cringe from the pain and immediately stop speaking, nose crinkling in displeasure. Your mom looks pained at the sight of your pain.

"Shhh. No talking, okay, baby?" She lifts her hand and gently pets your hair, you notice that she doesn't pet any where near the back of your head. Most likely you had an injury she didn't want to touch. "Doctor said your throat is gonna be painful for a day or two, no talking so it heals.", her hand goes down, caressing your cheek lovingly.

"Just shake or nod your head for yes and no, okay?" Your mother suggested, you don't care to try to think of any better idea than that so you simply nod which made her smile but it was a small one.

"To answer your question, or what I'm guessing your question was.." Her hand leave your cheek and takes the closest hand to her and cradles it with both of her hands. "You..You know of.." she pauses, seeming to try and remember something, "..Of the Whistling Man?". It takes you a small moment to remember but when you did, you nodded. Mom pauses, hesitating to tell you something, you know she is hesitating due to her quietness and how she casts her eyes to the side to avoid your gaze.

"…..He attacked you last night.".

The whistling.

The screams of the delivery guy.

The fight.

The blood.

He was fucking dead, dead on your own floor.

Henry on top of you, choking you out.

Her grip on your hand tightens the second she feels the trembling in your hand, all the air in your lungs leave you at that very moment. A cold sense of dread entangles you, leaving your limbs feeling heavy and your skin to prickle with goosebumps.

Oh god.

Oh fucking god that poor guy..

You felt so sick, it felt worse that there was nothing in your stomach to vomit out. You dry heave, slapping a hand over your mouth. You stare wide eyed down at your lap, your ears began to ring. Fading out the quickening beep of the heart monitor.

His eyeball hanging out of his eye socket, his guts were yanked out of his stomach and his fucking face..slashed and torn. A violent display of death, a death carried out by the same hands that..Oh god, the very same hands that were caressing your face like you were some animal he was trying to calm. Teardrops land on the white sheets covering your lap with each blink of your burning eyes. You hiccup, it hurt but the pain killers were taking affect, you were beginning to feel the numbness take over your senses.

You feel your mother rub your back as she continues to hold your hand that wasn't covering your mouth, comforting you as you silently cry in the hospital bed.

A few minutes passed, the nurse came back with some more water. Nurse Carpenter checked your vitals when your dad came in, having been talking to your doctor about what is to be expected with your recovery. He looked misty eyed as he quickly came to your side, carefully hugging you which you hugged back with all your strength.

"I'm so glad you're okay.." Dad whispered shakily, kissing your temple. You couldn't help but get tearful once more, silently thanking the universe that you had survived. You wouldn't want your parents to go through the agony of losing their child, you wouldn't want your best friend being at your funeral mourning you. You could only imagine her sobbing her eyes out, you wouldn't want to cause her any sort of pain like that.

You didn't want her to feel the same pain you had when you lost your older brother.

Your mother told you that once you're discharge, they will have you staying at their house until you're well enough to go back home alongside when the police are done gathering evidence and making sure the Whistling Man didn't return. You wonder what will happen now, will the return of the Whistling Man lead to mass panic? You're probably gonna get bombarded with people from The Reporter, damn you're probably gonna get questioned by the police too, huh? That's usually how it goes when you almost get brutally murdered by a deranged freak.

Great..

You and your parents stayed in that room for a couple of more hours, your throat and head slowly felt better during those couple of hours. You had hoped that maybe that meant you'd get to go home but unfortunately the doctor wanted you to stay for one more night to ensure your concussion didn't worsen sporadically. They said your concussion would take more than ten days to heal fully so you parents will have to watch you for a couple of days but not the full ten days, as much as you loved your parents, your mother can be a severe worrywart and be overbearing lot of the time.

You can't blame her this time though, you did almost get murdered. You'd be fretting over your kid if that happened to them too.

Your doctor entered the room, her name was Dr. Laser. Greeting you with a caring smile as she spoke, she went over your recovery plan and what should be carefully watched whilst you're home with your folks. Your head didn't need any stitching thankfully, only the deep cut on your thigh was the thing needing stitches which would needed to be taken out in about fourteen days. Dr. Laser also informed you that Officer Martinaz had swung by to ask you a few questions but she had let the officer know of your slight inability to speak at this time. Dr. Laser gave you and your parents a heads up that the officer will most likely drop by soon.

It was a lot of information, to the point it made your head ache softly with how much information you were trying to retain. But, there was something she said out of everything that made an uncomfortable feeling twist in your gut. Looking at you with gentle eyes, that smile of hers that brought you comfort at first but now made you squirm.

"You're lucky to have survived such an encounter.".

Why did she have to say that? Why did she have to call you lucky? That meant that poor teen wasn't lucky, meant that the universe or whatever had decided that 'No, that kid didn't deserve luck, YOU did though.'. It made you feel so unbearably uncomfortable, why did you get to live and not that kid who probably had plans to hang out with his friends after his shift, or finally scored a date with the girl of his dreams. But no, he was gutted like some squealing pig. Dead, cold and lifeless in a fucking morgue with his parents sobbing their eyes out seeing the state of their little boy.

Why was it you that had survived?

…

…

You just want to go home.

After another day in the hospital with no red-flags popping up when it came to your concussion, you were given the okay to be discharged. Which you were thankful for, you were getting pretty bored from just sitting in bed and not being able to do much. Shit, you're gonna have to call into work and tell your boss that you might be missing a few days. You worked at the Ripley Records store alongside side Kathrine.

Katherine, your best friend, was absolutely gonna tackle you to the ground despite your injuries and ball her eyes out. Your dad told you that she had even left her vacation early to come back home to come see you, you felt bad that she had to leave her hard earned vacation because you were hospitalized. Maybe when you're feeling better you could bake her some home-made chocolate chip cookies or some brownies, she always begged for your baked goods since the moment she found out you could bake.

Kathrine has been your best friend for a good while now, having met her at work when you first started with her being the one to train you, showing you how to do things around the record store. You've had grown close throughout the years since; She was a bit older than you but that small age gap didn't stop her from being an awesome best friend.

Standing in the bathroom, changing from the hospital gown to your comfortable loose clothing provided by your mother. Before you had put on your loose pants, you stared intently at the wound on your thigh. You couldn't stop yourself from gently running your finger along the stitches. It was weird, a feeling you've never really felt before, but it wasn't unpleasant? Just..Odd. Dr. Laser had informed that it will leave a scar, that didn't upset you really. Everyone gets scrapes and bruises, sometimes even a scar.

You just hope that when this scars it doesn't carry a heaviness, a reminder of what had happened to you. You already have enough on your plate, with all sorts of troubles and issues you're already dealing with. It most likely will, reminding you that you were the lucky one that survived the Whistling Man attack and not that poor kid.

Fuck.

Your eyes look at the mirror you stood in front of, eyes locking on the bruises around your throat. You grimace, hand lifting from the wound on your thigh to your throat. You lightly brush your fingers along the dark discoloration, you see the licks of blue and maroon. Man, that was gonna be there for awhile, wasn't it? Shit, maybe you'll cover it up with make-up if it stays long.

You mentally sigh, that was enough oogling.

Exiting the bathroom that was connected to the hospital room, you stop in your tracks when your eyes catch commotion outside. Your breath hitches when you spot a news van for the local news station; There was a woman wearing what seems to be a baby pink suit jacket with a matching colored pencil skirt that ended at her knees, the black heels she wore gave her extra height, she also had a blonde perm that ended at her shoulders. She looked familiar, more so the outfit she wore considering her back was facing you. She was looking into the camera that a guy was holding up. You recognized her from the news but you forgot her name…

Ugh, what was it?.. Gale?..Weathers?..

No, wait! Her name was Dale Clime! Yeah that was it, she's been part of the local news for a couple of months now. Ms. Clime was a good bit older than you if you remember correctly, there was a part of the broadcast celebrating her birthday. Ms. Clime seemed like a nice person.

You stare a bit longer, watching as she gestures to the front of the hospital. A gut feeling tells you that she was there because of Henry attacking you, especially because you haven't heard or been told of any other news that would be related to a hospital.

You hope that you don't have to tell the story to her, you didn't want any attention on you, you didn't want people to be side eyeing you as you walk down the street nor do you want people to pity you over this attack.

You just wanted to move on from this.

The drive from St. Gabriel's Hospital to your parent's place wasn't long, your eyes watching the scenery pass by. It was raining, the droplets of rain race across the car window. You always loved the rain, it was peaceful, calming. A drastic contrast to how things were the night you got attacked.

You grimace, feeling a faint ache filling your body as it remembers. You didn't want to remember, not now at least. You wanted to forget for just a moment that an innocent teenager got brutally slaughtered in your own brand new home, forget that you were attacked by the Whistling Man, and trying to absolutely forget that he had caressed your face. Like, why did he even do that? Is it because you called him by his name? People were keen on calling him just by 'The Whistling Man' and not his actual name. You guessed that it was to rack up more of an audience and instill more fear, Henry Barrow wasn't exactly a scary name that makes people piss their pants in fear.

You didn't know what was going through that psycho's head and you didn't want to, you wanted no part of whatever it is to do with Henry. Why were you or that dude even attacked? You were just getting some fucking pizza from the guy.

You sigh quietly, leaning your head against the cool glass, pleased at the nice cold feeling against your head. You see people with their umbrellas walking on the sidewalk, rain pouring down on those who either knew that rain was coming or those who obviously didn't know because they were rushing to get to cover. It made a puff of air escape your nose, you felt bad but it was kinda funny watching those people desperately trying to get to cover.

You continue to people watch until you finally made it home. Your dad using his beige coat to shield you from the rain as both of your parents unfortunately forgot to bring their umbrellas, your mother helped you up the short set of white stairs with your dad continuing to shield you from the rain. Once you three were under the porch cover, dad lowered his trench coat and quickly got to the front door, unlocking the padauk-colored wooden door with his key.

You hadn't left your childhood home for that very long but still, it felt like you hadn't been home in decades. It made you smile, walking into your childhood home that hadn't seemed to change a single bit since you've moved into your new house. The porcelain sand-colored, long-furred cat figurine hadn't moved from it's spot that's always been at since you could remember, it still stared at you with round green eyes. Silently greeting you the moment you walked into the house.

You wanted to run your fingers along the cold porcelain but your mother ushers you further into the home, hearing your dad close the door behind you two.

"We'll set you back up in your old room and I'll make you a plate of lasagna! How does that sound, hun?" Your mother suggested as she walks with you to your old room that you grew up in, last you heard whilst you were on a call with your mother is that she had spruced it up a little to become a spare bedroom for guests. The mention of your mother's famous lasagna made you perk up, a bright smile beaming on your face making her laugh. "I'll take that as a yes.".

"Are we sure about lasagna? Wouldn't it be hard to swallow?" Your dad asks with concern as he walks past you two, opening the bedroom door for you and your mother to enter. You felt a bit embarrassed by how they were acting at the moment, your mother had linked arms with you and was basically glued to your side since the moment you left the hospital whilst your dad was…well he was just opening doors for you.

It's not like you were gravely wounded, it's not like you were..

It's not like you were that dead teenager.

You swallow thickly, holding in a pained whine that wanted to slip past your lips. Shame settling into your bones, leading you to slightly duck your head, trying to hide your grimace from your mother's observant eyes.

Your mother huffs as she sits you on the edge of the bed, waving her hand in a dismissive manner, making the golden bracelets jingle and clash against each other. "Nonsense, it's considered a soft food! Which the doctor said would be safe to eat. Plus, my baby deserves a good meal after such a horrific event!", your dad simply sighs in response and nods. He wasn't one to fight your mother, not that he was a doormat but just because your mother was quite the stubborn woman when it came to what she wanted to do.

Your mother smiles triumphantly, "Now you rest in here while I go make you some food." she gives your forehead a gentle kiss, probably leaving a bit of a lipstick stain that you'll have to wipe off when she isn’t looking, before walking out of the room pass your father who stepped out of the way. After she had walked off down the hallway to the kitchen, your dad walks over to you from the door and smiles.

He lifts his hand and licks his thumb, you grumble in disgust with a scrunched nose as your dad wiped off the lipstick stain with his wet thumb. "Just let me know if you need anything, alright? Don't be afraid to ask.", he wipes off the rest of the lipstick stain off with his forest green cardigan sleeve. You smile up at him, nodding. Hopefully your gaze shows off that you were grateful for him.

With that, your father pats your cheek softly before leaving the room with his hands stuffed into his brown slacks.

You sit there on the edge of your old bed and stare at the doorway, unable to move your eyes away from it. You needed space, you needed to be alone for a moment. Your hands grip the bottom of your sweater, fingers curling into the fabric, stressing the soft material. A shaky breath leaves you, you didn't know how to feel. Time since you've woke up has blurred to the point it felt like a blink of the eye, it unnerved you.

You feel like you should be more shaken up than you currently were, you feel..nothing. Empty? Numb is probably the better word for it, maybe your body had gotten used to the feeling of being full of despair. You've experienced tragedy, when your brother had died a while back you had no other feeling but despair. Having even fallen into a deep depression that was hard to get out of..hell, you still suffered from the depression from it.

You hated this, just like you had hated the feelings of when your brother died.

Fuck, you just wanted to be in that stage of life where you get your own place and be independent, but then Henry-Fucking-Barrow just had to come and fuck that up. You were even planning on inviting your friends for a little get together in your new house, goddammit Henry. Fuck him.

Fuck him and fuck him caressing you, who even does that in that fucking situation? Fuck, maybe he was just trying to freak you out? Make you uncomfortable and weirded out as if it was like..some weird shit that turns him on? But you knew his story, you knew why he killed, so doing what he did to you and that kid being a turn on for him didn't seem likely.

It was weird and fucking confusing, you wish you could ask why he did this but if you saw him again you'd probably be too afraid and too angry to care to ask.

You just hope you never cross paths again, what did either of you do to deserve this? You weren't a part of the Whistling Man pranks from before or were you connected to the cover up..Right? Well, yeah obviously not considering you nor your parents were targeted when Marie and Henry decided to paint the town red. Maybe the teen was connected? You couldn't even ask because he was dead and gone.

You loosen your grip on your sweater, hand lowering to your thigh, rubbing your fingers oh-so gently on the stitched up wound hidden beneath your loose fitting pants.

You hope, pray even, that this was only time your path crosses with Henry Barrow.

Another day had passed, it was now the early morning of the day Katherine comes home early from her vacation with her boyfriend from Colorado. Raymond's, her boyfriend, family lived there and Katherine was visiting and, technically, taking a vacation from her job. They've been going steady, you were proud of her finding someone who genuinely appreciated and loved her.

Katherine has been telling you all about Ray since she first met him, you've even met him and knew they were a good match. Ray worked at Christine's Gas & Repair, it was how they met. Katherine had some issues with her car and Ray helped her out, they've hit off since then. He was quite the romantic, from what Katherine has told you, he goes out when it comes to Valentine's Day. Flowers, chocolates, gifts, even getting tickets for the Valentine's Day Maize Maze so they can go on a cute date. It was sweet, he knew her well and did his very best for her. You're really happy that they had met.

You hope that one day you could find someone like that, you wouldn't mind loving on them the same way Ray does with your bestie and you would love for someone to treat you like Ray did with Katherine.

Your parents were currently out of the house, your mom out to grab a few things from stores while your dad was at work at Doc's Pharmacy. This meant you had the house all to yourself, which was definitely a much needed break from your parent's overbearingness. You felt kinda like a dick for thinking that but it just..You weren't dead, you got the better end to the attack. That kid had his guts ripped out of his stomach, you want to say that his face slashed to the point he was unrecognizable but you can hardly remember what he looked like before the attack. All you could see is his corpse, every time you closed your eyes that was all you could fucking see.

It made you sick, all of this. It felt wrong, it felt uneasy. You were meant to die that night yet here you were, watching the television whilst sitting on the old, brown leather couch in the living room.

Your parent's overbearing care wasn't a new thing, they've been like this since the moment you were born and grew even extra overbearing when your brother had died. It was just too much, which led you to hiding things from them since you were young. You know they meant well but it was truly just too much. That's why you couldn't wait to get home, you missed the comfort of your home. You missed being able to hide away, missed being independent.

You just wanted to move on.

Knock

Knock

Knock

You blink, turning your head to look over the couch to look towards the doorway that led to the front door. That must be Katherine. Ugh you feel awful that her and Ray had to leave Ray's parents just because you got attacked. You're gonna need to make some sweet treats for them once you're hundred percent. You stand up from the couch and made your way to the front door, preparing yourself for when Katherine ultimately charges you and finishes the job Henry failed to by hugging you to death.

Your fingers wrap around the brushed nickel door handle, you went to turn the handle but..You couldn't. You've froze up, a part of your mind telling you to not open the door. Your skin crawls with absolute unease, you could even a small tremor make its course through you as you stare blankly at the door handle.

Knock

Knock

Knock

You want to open the door but you fucking couldn't.

What if it's him? What if he's found where your parents lived, knowing they were housing you for the time being, coming to finish the job?

Fuck. FUCK.

You squeeze your eyes tight, letting out a shaky breath.

It was just Katherine, it wasn't Henry.

You take a deep breath and open the door, almost swinging it open like it was a bandaid being ripped off. You open your eyes, even hesitating to do so, you look at who was just knocking on the front door.

It's not Katherine.

You swallow thickly, relief filling your system just a tad the second you recognize it was just Officer Martinez with her hand up in the air, most likely was going to knock again but you opening the door interrupted that. "O-oh, Officer Martinez!", you smile at her which she returns it as she lowers her hand to her side. "What can I do for you, ma'am?" You ask, already knowing she was most likely here for questioning. You've been dreading this if you were gonna be honest, but you'll just have to get this over with so you can move on.

"Morning! I just came by to ask you a few questions about what had happened the night you were attacked." Her dark eyes glance behind you into your home before locking eyes with you once more. "Is that alright with you? It's standard procedure".

You gave her a nod, "Yes, of course, Officer Martinez. Would you like to come inside? It would probably be better than standing out here.". You offered, hoping that she agrees. Considering your parent's neighbors can be pretty nosy and you really didn't want them to be up in your business.

Officer Martinez agrees which leads you to stepping to the side and letting her inside, shutting the door and locking it. You lead her further into your parent's house. Deciding to head to the dining room, feeling that would be better for a serious situation than the living room.

"Would you like a glass of water?" You offer politely; Officer Martinez shakes her head, declining the offer. You both take seats at the dining room's short oval oak table, Officer Martinez sat at the end table chair with her back to the wall whilst you sat in the wooden chair that was tucked into table closet to hers.

"So, Officer Martinez-".

She cuts you off, raising her hand and giving you a hand-wag. Officer Martinez smiles, "You can just call me Martinez, no need for officer.".

You gave a polite nod, she probably noticed your nervousness. She was a cop after all, she was trained to read body language. "So, Martinez..What is it you'd like to ask me about that night?", You just wanted to get this questioning over with then you can just move on.

"Well, my first question is..What happened that night?".

It was the simplest question, the most cliche question that a cop trying to find out what happened would ask.

But, why does it still feel hard to answer? You had a simple answer; Ordered pizza, pizza guy shows up and so does a fucking maniac that proceeds to kill an innocent kid, caresses you like some lover and then bolts off when the cops come.

That's all that happened.

Fuck, you feel like you should be more emotional about this but..still, you felt numb.

"I ordered pizza, Ponty's Pizza, that night after unboxing some boxes I was procrastinating on dealing with. There was a knock on my door, I opened it and there was the delivery guy with my pizza and…", you trail off. Remembering the sound of the whistling piercing the night air. You clear your throat, regretting that as the pain of doing that still makes itself subtly known. "..And I heard it, that whistling. Before I knew it, I saw him.".

"The 'Him' being Henry Barrow?".

You open your mouth to immediately agree but you shut your mouth; Now that you think about it, was it Henry? You kinda just automatically assumed it was and the killer seemed to respond to when you said Henry. Logically, it was most likely Henry but there was a chance that just maybe it was a copycat killer Who wanted to be just like Marie Campbell and Henry Barrow? That feels like it would be some plot to a thriller movie.

"I believe so, yes." You nod as you spoke. You didn't notice it but Martinez had pulled out a notepad and a pen, you watched as she wrote down what you assumed to be what your recall was that night. She gives a slow nod as she finishes writing, a gesture to continue speaking.

"He came at us so fast, I dragged the delivery guy inside and tried to shut the door but Henry over powered the door.". You wondered what would have happened if you didn't act, would he have killed the delivery guy right at your doorstep? The haunting thought of your welcome mat you had just bought being soaked in blood is dominate amongst your thoughts, you shoo it away. You needed to focus on getting this interaction over with.

You continued, "We, me and the teenager, fell on the ground with me landing on top of him. Henry entered and we were trying to get up when Henry locked the door, and before I could get up he grabbed my ankle and yanked me towards him. I was kicking and struggling to break out of his grip.".

"And what was the pizza delivery guy doing when that happened?" Martinez asked.

"He was able to get up; For a moment I had believed he was going to leave me behind.".

The sound of scribbling slows down, "Why did you believe he was leaving you behind?" she asked for clarification.

"Because I had lost sight of him after he got up, but he was only grabbing a lamp. He slammed it into Henry's head to get him off of me." You answered.

You continued to recall what had happened that night up to the point of when henry had dragged you back inside and was on top of you. You felt a flicker of shame ignite in you, embarrassed at the thought of explaining to a police officer that a serial killer had caressed your face. Did you really need to share that? Was it really important to the case?

You chew on the inside of your cheek lightly as you thought more about it; You wanted to give the police all they needed to help capture Henry, you didn't want them coming back after finding out you withheld a tiny bit of information. So with a quiet sigh, you told the truth.

"After he had dragged me back inside, I ended up on the floor and.." You hesitated, you had to tell her what happened. "And he got on top of me, I thought he was going to finish the job but he just..stayed like that, and..then he started to touch..my face.".

That made her straighten her back up even more than she originally was, her eyes staring intently at you. It made you slightly squirm in your seat and look away. You wanted to hide away because felt so weird to tell someone that, you were beginning to regret telling her everything.

"He started to..Touch..your face?" She repeated for, once again, clarification. You gave a nod and continued recalling that embarrassing creepy moment.

"Yes, I could feel him smearing the blood. It was..gross." You admit, looking back at her with a grossed out look that she had on her face as well. "I pleaded with him to let me leave, he didn't say anything. Just stared at me and kept touching my face until you guys showed up. Then he just..ran.". Finally, recalling what had happened is finally over with.

Officer Martinez nods, "That explains the odd blood smearing on your face when we found you..". She say as she finishes up writing, though near the end she kept glancing up at you then back at the note pad. Clearly there was something still lingering on her mind.

After a small minute of silence she speaks her mind, "I will admit, you seem pretty calm for someone who survived a Whistling Man attack and witnessed a brutal murder in your own home.".

That hit you like a brick, what was she implying? You swallow some spit quietly before speaking, "It's better to be calm, isn't it? Being scared wouldn't do me any good.", did your calmness look suspicious? Just because you weren't sobbing your eyes out didn't mean you should be considered suspicious, you just handled this differently.

She stares at you for another moment of silence afterwards before agreeing with a simple, "This is true.". That didn't ease your nerves one bit.

Officer Martinez flips to a different page and writes something down as she states, "If you have anymore information that you believe will help us with capturing Henry, this is my number. We will call you if we have any more questions.". She rips the yellow paper off and sets it on the table, sliding it towards you. You stare at it, a bit hesitant to touch it if you were going to be honest.

You nod, taking the paper and holding it firmly. "Thank you, Martinez. I appreciate it.".

Martinez smiles, "And I appreciate your cooperation, thank you for taking the time.". Officer Martinez stands up from her seat, you do the same afterwards. She mentions needing to head back so you lead her back to the front door, opening it up and watching her walk through the doorway.

"Wait." You quickly speak up.

She was only two steps out of the house, she turns around and looks at you curiously. "Yes?".

You hesitate, staring down at your shoes as you decide if you should ask your question or not. Your brain demands that you do. "I'm sorry to bother and you don't need to answer if you aren't able to but..what was the teenager’s name?", you didn't want to keep calling him 'the teenager', 'the delivery guy', etc..it didn't feel right. You wanted to know who died in your house that night.

Martinez seemed caught off guard by your question. She sighs, scratching the back of her neck. "I'm sorry, we're not allowed to give out that information until we have everything correct. We still need to ID the body to ensure it's the right person.".

"Oh.." You expected that answer, though you had hoped that maybe she'd share some information with you but you understood. "Of course, I understand.".

You bid each other farewells, you watch her go down the patio steps and get into her patrol car. And with that, she left you there. You stood at the doorway longer than you needed to, just kept staring at where her car was parked. After a few more minutes, you step back and shut the door, making sure to ensure the door was locked. Turning around, you stare down the hallway, the house oh-so quiet.

It was uncomfortably quiet.

Terrifyingly quiet.

Your feet move on their own, heading straight to the living room where you knew the record player was. Your mother was quite the lover of Def Leppard so seeing multiple vinyls of Def Leppard wasn't a surprised, seems as though she had gotten some new records to add to her collection that were inside the dark oak cabinet that was pressed against the wall, you randomly picked one of the newer looking ones and pulled the vinyl out carefully out of the record sleeve that had an interesting cover art, big yellow and red gradient letters that spelled out 'Last Action Hero' with a man holding a boy under his arm jumping out of a movie theater screen.

You carefully set the vinyl on the record player, your mother would kill you if you didn't handle her records with care. You make sure to set the record at the correct speed before setting the the needle gently onto it, eyeballing it enough for the needle to be placed where the song played at the very beginning. You take a step back from the record player and wrap your arms around yourself, swaying side to side as the rhythm of the song flowed.

~Walk away if you want to

It's okay if you need to

Well you can run but you can never hide

From the shadow that's creeping up beside you

There's a magic running through your soul

But you can't have it all

Whatever you do, I'll be two steps behind you~

Couple of hours have passed; You were in the kitchen, debating on if you wanted to indulge on a TV dinner as a late lunch whilst you watched some TV in the living room. You knew that Looney Tunes usually played around this time, you liked indulging in some cartoons here and there. Especially when stressful things were happening around you.

As you made a Hungry-Man Salisbury Steak, you couldn't stop thinking about what Officer Martinez had said about how calm you were; Why did she have to say that? It was making you overthink everything you said and did, did you mess up in some way to make her feel suspicious towards you? Or was it just a test to see if your response would be sketchy? Was it normal procedure to say those sort of things?

Ugh, you didn't know and you really didn't like it. Made you feel like some criminal even though you literally didn't do anything!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

You almost scream when hearing banging on the front door, your heart lurching and almost leaping right out of your chest. You grip the kitchen counter and place your hand on your chest. The microwave dinging, telling you that the TV dinner was finished. Though you pay no mind to it as you were entirely focused on the banging on the door.

You sigh shakily, taking a couple seconds that felt like hours to calm yourself down enough to cautiously walked through the living to the hallway that led to the front door. You stood in the archway that entered into the hallway, standing there and staring at the door. Your eyes move to the side window that was beside the door to see if maybe you could see whoever it was through the window from where you stood.

You almost jump at the sight of Katherine pressing her face against the window, peaking inside. Relief fills your being at the sight of Katherine. You thank the heavens it was her. Though it made you realize that earlier you could've used the side windows to see who was outside earlier with Officer Martinez, you blame still being a bit shaken up for not thinking about it.

You quickly walked to the door and unlocked it, the tingling sensation of hesitation about opening the door filled you but you pushed it to the side. It was just Katherine. You opened the door, feeling budding excitement fill you at the sight of Katherine standing there.

You didn't stand a chance when Katherine laid her eyes on you. Just like you had expected her to do, she almost tackled you to the ground when you opened the front door after hearing her bang on it, but, thankfully, you had to use all your power to not land on the ground. Katherine hugged you tightly, already sobbing her e pretty yes out and blubbering stuff you couldn't understand because her words were slurring and mushing together.

"Katherine..Katherine, hey, calm down..I'm okay!" You try to reassure as you hold her close, her face in your chest. You can feel the front of your cardigan getting soaked by her tears. You're kinda trying not to laugh, she'll probably be annoyed if you did. Thank fuck your voice has gotten better, it was pretty annoying trying to tell your parents what you need and now you could comfort your best friend verbally instead of doing a guessing game on what you're trying to say, didn't mean your voice was restored but definitely enough to speak properly.

Katherine pulls away, her hands firmly gripping the upper parts of your arms as she lightly shakes you as she squawks out, "You could've died! YOU WERE LITERALLY ATTACKED BY THAT PSYCHO THAT ATTACKED PEGGY!". You grimace, damn your bestie can get pitchy. You realize though that what she said was true, she was pretty good friends with Peggy who was one of the main reasons many people survived the night that the Whistling Men attacked Gallows Creek. You sigh softly, smiling tiredly.

"You're right, I'm sorry but..look, I'm okay? I'm good and alive." You calmly reassure, trying to not let your voice crack from dull pain; "I'm not going anywhere.". That seems to do it, Katherine's entire figure that was wounded up with tension eased up. A sniffle leaving her, staring at you with glassy eyes.

"You promise?".

"Promise.".

Katherine fully relaxed, shakily sighing as she nods. "Okay, good..Because if you didn't, I'd cry more.".

You let out a small snort, "Oh god forbid, please give our ears mercy." you teased making Katherine huff in annoyance. Glaring at you, though, it had no malice in sight.

"Rude." Katherine huffs and you just snicker in response. A sense of guilt hits you, here you were laughing with your best friend, but that teenager couldn't do that.

How lucky you are to be alive.

God, you hated just calling him 'the delivery guy', 'the teenager', 'the kid'. You didn't even know his name, the name of the teen that basically saved your life because he didn't abounded you. Fuck, you were pathetic.

You take a deep breath in, trying to calm down. You didn't want Katherine to stress out over you, you'd feel awful worrying her even the slightest bit. You clear your throat as Katherine lets go of you, wiping her face from the residue the tears left behind. "I was making a TV Dinner before you arrived and planned on watching some Looney Tunes, would you like to join me?" You asked, knowing she would be willing to join you.

She beamed at you, that's all you needed to know that she was willing to join you.

You were grateful for Katherine, you truly were. Though sometimes she can be too nosy for her own good, she would usually hound you for information if something happened to you but she hadn't asked a single question about what had happened. You appreciated that right now she wasn't hounding you, you had a feeling that she could tell you were just too worn out to talk about it. You'll tell her soon enough, but right now you just wanted to enjoy eating TV dinners and watching cartoons with Katherine.

🔪🎶🔪🎶

Thanks for reading! Leave a like, reblog and comment if you'd like!

Remember to eat and drink water! Have a good day/night! :D

The song that Reader listened to is Two Steps Behind by Def leppard, a personal favorite of mine! ^^

9:23pm April 30th, 2026

You stare out at the police cruiser, all white and black with tawny gold detailing bathed in the golden glow emitted by the arc sodium streetlight perched several feet above it, like a vehicle nestled proudly in a gameshow podium spotlight.

A voice then, darkly booming from the saturnine recesses at the back of your mind like thunder, a voice like one of those old carny barkers breaking the chokehold of mental silence that had stolen over you from your initial shock with all the tenebrific zeal of an adrenaline fueled night terror, sending a chill swimming up your spine as agile and deft as a barracuda cutting through turmultously churning waters.

'Tell her what we've got for her Johnny! For starters how about a ride in the back of a brand new, luxury, all wheel drive SUV, fit with your very own private, civil servant chauffeur. Along with a fine pair of matching, silver, cold-punched, steel link cuffs. And to top that off how about an all expenses paid one way ticket to Florida's finest penitentiary, where I'm told they still have a line down the block to get into the ever exclusive, by reservation only, make ya jump right out of your strapped in seat, electric chair!'

You shuddered to push the voice away, a fear so potent it became a physical thing that moved you, requiring effort to dispel. You confronted the sight before you again and forced yourself to grasp the realities of it to stop your mind from wandering back into the sideshow nightmare of your overactive imagination.

On both the driver and passenger sides, the outline of Florida was encompassed by a wreath of satin red rose heads. Black banners flanked Florida from the north and south embossed with the words 'Protect' and 'Serve' respectively in a golden script. A relatively simple design in and of itself that wasn't half bad, but it made you think of Christmas or Valentine's Day more than serving justice or fighting crime and felt far too regal to represent a growing township in central Florida.

With nothing to do but sit on your hands and listen far too intently to the muffled warble of their voices through the walls; Danny's animated and personable— no doubt in full on Jed mode, and the officers, one brawny and distinctively timbre and the other softer and slightly higher in pitch, your imagination refuses to settle into stagnation.

You see yourself busting through the plain glass window of your little back bedroom and screaming bloody murder, you see the offiers backing into view, guns drawn and trained at Danny's head. You see backup arrive instantaneously, four more cruisers and a swat van to boot flooding your dark neighborhood with righteous blue and white light as they barrel down your road.

You see yourself, pulled free of the house, a strong officer with steady hands lifting you bridal style safely through the jagged glass. He pulls you in, head rested on his chest, well padded with muscle. His face is a blank but it's a handsome blank, that much you can imagine and his arms feel sturdy and so supportive as he guides you away from the hectic chaos that's become them attempting to subdue and restrain Danny.

But that's where the pleasant bubble bursts as the tendrils of nightmare scenarios start seeping in, and your stomach takes an unexpected lurch. Best case scenario you see them order him to the ground, a command with which he complies and then they pounce on his prone body, practically trussing him up like an oven bound turkey before carting him off like an old tote bag into the back of a cruiser, never to be seen again.

Or worse even, they order him to the ground and he doesn't heed their warnings, and opts instead to charge the nearest officer with his knife. Would he succeed? You think it likely. How many could he realistically get before they shot him down like a rabid dog in the street? One, two maybe if he's quick. But the ending is always the same.

Danny lying face up in the grass. Face up because our daydreams are always of the most exorbitant caliber whether positive or negative in nature. Designed to either torment or exhilarate us to the grandest of extremes. And the most vividly gruesome picture you can paint for yourself is the image of Danny lying face up and dead in the grass beneath the brilliant light of a full moon.

You can see him in your minds eye. They've planted a 9mm right between his eyes and four more into his sternum and neck for good measure. The pools of blood flow endless— there's no saving him. The death is instantaneous— there's no saying goodbye. His eyes, infintismal in their shades of brown are wide open and glassy, all the malicious life and tainted love drained from them as the small trickle of blood from his head wound dips into the hollow of one orbital and down his face like a single final tear. Not even time for a song to bleed out to after all.

You try to swallow but it gets stuck in your throat and there's a hot, heavy weight all of a sudden right behind your eyes that you have to blink rapidly to clear. You cough to clear your throat as the door bursts open, scaring you shitless.

"Jesus fuck, Danny! What the hell?" You hiss at him in alarm, hoping to god he doesn't catch the slight tremble in your voice beneath the surprise.

"Put on your robe, quick." He says, already moving away from you and towards your closet and snatching back the doors by their round wooden handles. He flings the robe back at you even as he's already reaching up towards the clear plastic bin that held your small assortment of winter wear. And it was small— living in central Florida did not exactly demand the need for heavy insulated clothing. But you had a few odds and ends tucked away for the off occasional winter day— a nice warm coat, a pair of flip-top mittens, and a nice long wool scarf.

Of these, after Danny pulled the top off, he grabbed the latter from the bin and then threw it haphazardly onto your bed where it promptly landed half-skewed, bounced and then toppled over altogether, spilling the mittens and half of the coat out on top of them.

"Danny what the fuck is going on? I just put those up for the season." You ask even as you're already doing as he'd instructed, pulling the robe on overtop of your clothes as you stared at him in bewilderment. He shushed you and helped to pull the robe fully together in front of you before lashing the sash tight around your waist with a vicious tug.

"The cops are here and they're asking to see you. I've told them you're sick and sleeping but they've insisted. Answer questions as minimally as you can and let me do most of the talking. How's your sick voice? Can you do a sick voice?" You stare up at him, brows furrowed as you take in everything he's saying. You think about his question for just a second before you answer in your best imitation of a sick person.

“You mean like this?" You ask him, trying to give the words a throaty, nasally spin.

His lips thin and turn up to one side. "Ok, just nod or shake your head then. And let me do the talking." He says before taking the scarf he'd collected from your winter things and wrapping it over and over and over again around your neck and upper chest. It bunches and chokes up just beneath your chin and you scowl at him as you reach up to tug it down and adjust it, earning you a prompt slap to the back of the hand.

"That's meant to be there. It covers the marks on your neck and I've already told them that I've pulled all the stops to make sure you get better, so leave it." You grumble at him but he only spins you around and ushers you towards the door, stopping only right before the threshold to whisper just behind your ear.

"Oh. And I'm sure it goes without saying that I will not hesitate to kill both of these men right out there on your front porch in front of god and anyone else who may witness it for that matter should anything go awry. And after that I will have to kill them and Him if it comes down to it. Do you understand me?" Your heart freezes in your chest as your blood runs cold and pumps through it, but you give him a curt nod, untrusting of your voice suddenly.

"Excellent. It's almost over, doll. That I can promise you." He slips a covid mask on over your face as a finishing touch and then he's pushing you out of the room and towards the central part of the house. There you're greeted by the sight of two police officers stood just outside your front door in the luminescence cast by your moth flecked porchlight, a cautious but close enough distance away so as not to risk catching what you're apparently infected with.

"Here she is." Danny croons from behind you. "The poor things been in bed all day. Picked up what's been going around at work I think and I'm not taking any chances for it to fester into pneumonia." You only half pay attention to what he's saying, you're too busy staring at the pair huddled in your doorway, left wondering just what the requirements are these days to be recruited on as 'Roseville's Finest'.

The two officers before you could not be more opposites of each other if they tried. The one on the left was tall and strong. Apparent by the way he hardly fit in the frame of your front door. His uniform bunched tight at the forearms and shoulders. He looked more like a supersoldier or terminator than a regular run of the mill beat cop.

The one on the right on the other hand was a lean and lanky man with all the stature of a lawn gnome. It was like someone set a dachshund next to a cane corso. You were glad now for the covid mask, it was hard enough to stifle your laughter, let alone your smile.

Your eyes kept ping-ponging back and forth between them but after a moment you thought that might look a bit suspicious and so you forced yourself to quit it, settling your eyes on the stouter of the pair as you inhaled deeply. The thought of lying to the police had you a bit out of your own head and over analytical of any and everything you did.

"If we could make this quick officers? I'd really like to get her back to bed." Danny asks, full on Jed mode indeed as he huddles in close behind you and slips a protective arm around your waist.

"Of course." Says the dachshund, addressing Danny before turning his attention back to you.

"Sorry to show up on your doorstep like this at such a late hour, we'll make this brief. Ma'am, have you seen or heard from Joshua Dubois in the recent weeks?" And there it is, you knew this is what they came for, but by god here it is in the rotten flesh. One arm twitched as you felt the imaginary slap of cuffs lock down over your wrists. Snapping out of it, you shake your head no, prompting Danny to speak up.

"She'll probably be doing a lot of that in regards to your questions. It pains her to talk." The dachshund who had seemed to be sizing you up, pulled his eyes from you briefly to nod and acknowledge Danny before directing all of his attention back to you. From his side you can feel the cane corso's eyes boring into your very soul.

"You haven't heard from Mr. Dubois at all then? Not a text, or a call, or a letter in the mail even?" He asks as a follow up to which you shake your head for him again as Danny asks.

"What exactly is this all about officers? I'm sure you're aware but, she's had some trouble in the past with Mr. Dubois and the subject is a sensitive one." The dachshund nods in what appears to be sympathetic agreement with Danny's claim.

"Yes. We are very aware. That is in fact, the reason why we are here. You see, Joshua Dubois was found dead this morning in the parking garage of your previously shared workplace."

You take in a sharp inhale, one that was genuine in reaction. You had seen it up close and personal with your own eyes, hell he'd had his hands around your throat as it happened, but something about hearing it aloud from someone else's lips, from the mouth of a bonafide and fully laced police officer standing right outside your front door knocked all the wind out of you all over again.

The dachshund nods again in a kind of sympathetic understanding but the cane corso to his left only squints his eyes minutely, scrutinizing. You avoid making eye contact with him, opting instead to let your eyes drop to their shoes, what you're hoping looks like a contemplative, disturbed reaction.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this, it's not the ideal way but we've got a body and no answers, it's up to us to ask the questions. Starting with anyone and everyone who he had trouble with in his past." He explains, diplomatically. And it does seem to be him doing all of the talking, the cane corso seems to be either retroactively silent or muzzled.

Danny, the elected mouth piece on your side of the board, addresses the officer again. "Was he murdered, officer?"

The question jars you and you have to fight to stop yourself from physically recoiling. Has he lost his god damn mind?

But to this question the officer doesn't even seem the slightest bit surprised to hear as he lifts his eyes off you again, letting them drift up and up to Danny, who had to have doubled the man in height. He smiles as he answers, a playful tug at the corner of his lips, which you clock as extremely odd given the morbid circumstances.

"Well, it's too early to tell. But we think it's likely. And that's all I can divulge at this time." He answers Danny like an old friend, or at the very least like a well worn in acquaintance, even going so far as to tip him a playful wink at the end.

Danny nods solemnly, a gesture of well toed respect. Like he's done this song and dance before and knows the lines that he is barred to cross.

And for the third time, driving his point home rather firmly. "So just to confirm, you have had no contact with Mr. Dubois, of any kind?" Your eyes rise up from the ground to his again, hoping that the eye contact will provide him the emphasis he's clearly searching for, and then you shake your head again, for the third time in response.

He nods good-naturedly, like that's what he thought the answer was going to be all along.

"Well, that's all we'll be needing from you tonight. If we have any more questions we'll drop by again or give you a call." The officer says, winding down his officer on duty persona right before Danny interjects.

"Before you go officer, is there any chance, any chance at all that this is the work of Roseville's Ghost?" Danny asks and you stiffen, your head turning just slightly in his direction on the axis of your neck as you hear the officer issue a hearty chuckle.

"Always on the job aren't ya, Jed? Even stuck at home taking care of the missus." Danny chuckles right along with him.

"What can I say officer? The reporter in me never rests." The officer nods, like he understands before asking him a follow up question that catches you from complete left field. "Off the record as per usual?"

Danny nods and tips him a wink, eyes shining. "Of course."

The officer nods and after a moments consideration, he answers.

"Well, it's still an ongoing investigation but… no. No, we don't think so. This one doesn't fit his MO. The victim well…" he hesitates, his eyes shifting back to you like he's just only now remembered where he was and the sensitive ears that were present.

"…let's just say the victim's cause of death is not consistent with those of the previous victims." He says, giving Danny a pointed look which Danny reciprocates with one more solid head nod to punctuate it.

"Got it. Thanks, officers." Jed says through that winning, charitable, golden retriever grin. But then officer dachshund gets this gleam in his eye and you were not prepared at all for what he said next.

"Since we're in the spirit of speaking off the record, Jed. You never mentioned you had a sweetheart." He says, looking at you with a new expression that hadn't touched his face the whole time he'd been in officer mode. Off the record, indeed.

"Well.." Danny says, pulling you somehow impossibly closer and bending down until his head dips and comes to rest on your shoulder, until you're quite literally cheek to cheek and his whole body eclipses your frame, until it's like you're wearing him like a human shroud.

"…we've been waiting for the right time to go public." He says as he tilts your head gently towards him with only the tip of one finger, hooked around your chin, pulling your bewildered eyes off the officers at your door to make direct eye contact with you. Those deep brown eyes that so clearly reflect his love and devotion gazing directly into yours.

"But we're getting very serious now, aren't we sweetheart?" Danny says, putting emphasis on the pet name deliberately. You only stare back at him, your cheeks heating as your embarrassment grows tenfold.

He would ham it up in front of the cops, but it's not just to sell the lie anymore, this is where the lies stop. This is where the curtain has dropped and the play ends as reality begins— Danny's reality; and yours too if you don't find a way to put the brakes on this runaway hell train soon.

Not now. Not here where the lie had a purpose, but soon. You reach forward and slip a palm up the side of Danny's cheek, cupping it gently as you stare into his eyes. You wonder if the cops can discern the difference between the loving gaze you're currently miming and the poignant hate that's swims in your irises from this angle, but you doubt it.

And your doubts are confirmed as officer dachshund makes a disgustingly sappy 'daaawww' noise and slips a hand up to his own chest to rest over where his heart would be beneath all that nylon and starched cotton. "Young love." He says dreamily to no one in particular.

Apparently having had enough of the pleasantries and cringe, and for the first time since the whole encounter had begun, the cane corso speaks up— not so muzzled as he had at first appeared. The deep, timbre of his voice puts you on pins and needles all over again and you pull your arm back down to your side as you turn to face the officers outside your door.

"If you remember anything, anything at all that you believe is relevant to the murder of Joshua Dubois give us a call."

Your eyes drift to where you had purposely kept them from straying as the brawny man seems to address you directly. When your eyes meet you find him looking to you and you alone as he offers up a buisness card with one outstretched hand to you and you specifically.

You look up at him, caught in the trance of his gaze as his deep blue eyes bore down over you, intense as they pin you in place. You can't even bring yourself to reach out the two inches required to take the aforementioned card out from between his fingers to end this whole damn debacle. Danny has to do it for you, all while assuring the officers that you'll do just that as he pulls you back from the door and further tucks you into his wings.

The cane corso's eyes never leave you, even as the other officer has already turned away as Danny begins the process of shutting and locking the door. His stare stays with you long after the cruiser pulls away from beneath the streetlight and out into the stygian curtain of night.

"Ok.." He says on a sigh and runs the fingers of one hand through his hair. Looking down at you as you pull the Covid mask from your face and the itchy, wool scarf that's been torquing down tighter and tighter around your throat with every passing minute of your chat with the friendly neighborhood paw patrol.

"This is fucked." You say, unsure of exactly who or what you were speaking to or about specifically. Every part of this was so fucked that the statement could easily apply to any and everything about the current situation.

"It's fine." He says, brushing the whole thing under the rug it seems as he pushes off the closed door and moves towards the kitchen. As he vacates the space, you rush forward and push your face up to the door, eye poised over the peep hole to get as descreet a view as possible of your front yard, certain that upon doing so the only sight you'd be greeted with was a sea of that same vast, deep blue of the bigger officer's eye, peering back in at you. But of course it isn't, it's dark but you can see enough to know the cruiser is gone and the bigger, stonier officer gone right along with it.

"How in the hell can you even say that? The cops were at my door Danny. Does that not alarm you in the slightest?" You ask as you pull yourself away from the peephole to better address the issue with him.

He'd made it to the kitchen and was now rummaging through your cupboards seemingly for something to eat and was so unalarmed in fact that he meritted it safe enough to change the subject entirely.

"How about soup and grilled cheese? This whole playing the role of the caring, concerned boyfriend nursing his sick, ailing girlfriend back to health has a surprising amount of appeal. Who says after the audience is gone we can't still play out our parts, hmm? Plus we really need to go grocery shopping soon. You're out of like everything." You just stand there, staring at him. How is he so nonchalant about this when your blood pressure is rising through the roof?

"They know." You say, half to yourself and half to Danny who finally seems to clock some of the spiking anxiety in your voice and takes the time to at least half-heartedly reassure you, even if he does it without looking at you, opting to still root through your ill store of provisions. "They don't know a thing."

You try; really, really try to step back for just a moment and see things the way he sees them. To see anything that's just happened and label it under that tried and true old moniker of 'not that big a deal'. It takes all of three seconds for the process to run its course and come up the same. You look down at the floor and bring just another bit of evidence that this whole thing was dead at the gate inadvertently into view.

"Oh yeah? They don't know a thing, huh? Well what about this Danny?" You ask, stepping out from around the bar so he can get a good hard look at the sneakers, still on your feet from coming in the door and out of the rain just a split second before they'd pull into your drive.

"Do sick people who have been in bed all day normally wear soaking wet shoes to bed with them? You think they missed that, hmm? And what about you? Asking them all those- those questions. What the fuck was that, Danny?"

He chooses to steam roll right over that first statement to get to the next. "You ever hear of a reporter that didn't ask too many questions?" He asks, letting that hang in the air to compound emphasis before responding as if you'd answered in his favor.

"Exactly. Just as you had your part to play, I had mine and being the nosey, pushy but personable reporter harassing the local fuzz for the latest scoop is just another part of mine. Honestly doll, they would have found it suspicious if I hadn't asked any questions, don't you think?" You breathe out a frustrated sigh because none of this was doing anything to help calm you down. You can tell he's trying, sort of, but his nonchalance is only inducing the panic, not quelling it.

"Danny." And that gets his attention enough to look at you, but apparently not enough to pull him off task.

"Chicken Noodle or Cheddar Broccoli?" He asks, holding up a can of each. You cup your face in your hands and let out an exasperated sigh that does nothing to vent your stress.

"Danny we need to talk about this." You say through the mask of your own fingers. He waits for you to emerge from them to give you a pointed look, and only after you'd given him your preferred choice does he finally address the issue.

"What do you suggest we do, doll?" He asks with the kind of gentle, mild curiosity one may utilize when deciding which pair of socks to put on in the morning.

You really weren't sure what you wanted to do, the necessary steps to take after killing a man who was trying to kill you was not exactly in your repertoire and you weren't even sure what exactly was going to come out of your mouth in answer to his question, until it did.

"We need to leave." And then the pair of you sat there in the afterbirth of that brilliant idea for a moment before Danny did something that surprised you entirely. He disagreed.

"No." Your brows furrowed at him as the simple word, one of the first a person ever hears and learns to understand in their young lives, hit your ears and at first did not compute.

"No?" You repeat, as automatic as a trained parrot.

"That's just not a good idea, babygirl. That's not going to pan out the way you think it will." He said as he popped the top off two cans of soup and pulled Kraft cheese singles out from one fridge door shelf.

"That's not a good idea?" You repeat, a well trained parrot indeed.

"Let's talk logistics." Danny says and then proceeds to lay in.

"What you're suggesting is that we skip town, yes? You and me out on the road with merely the clothes on our backs, a bag for each of us, the money from your safe perhaps, combined with mine and my car, the black one that is least likely to be recognized right away."

"You want to cut and run, somewhere north perhaps, Boston? Utah? Canada even.. on a hunch that the police have already linked, out of all the possible suspects— and with an active serial killer on the loose to boot, you, not only to the scene of the crime but as a prime suspect, solidified only by the fact that they showed up late at night at your door to ask you if you've had contact with him in the recent months and then leave. Am I getting all of that correct?" He asks as he takes his eyes off the soup he'd been carefully ladling into a pot with a wooden spoon for confirmation.

You stare at him, now silent as he lays it all out rather eloquently for you and something about that, something about the firm grasp he has on a situation you are absolutely floundering in leaves you speechless and so in turn you just nod at him.

"Well for starters babycakes, as I've previously mentioned, it is way too early to bail out of town. For one thing it will only draw eyes to you. You've explicitly told the Roseville PD that you have not had contact with Josh for several months now, which wasn't the wrong thing to do, don't get me wrong about that part. You did excellent. But.. if you leave now, it will only incur more questions."

"For one thing, they think you're sick. Which is a good enough cover for why you haven't been at work and only helps our alibi, placing you away from the scene of the crime at the time of the murder. Except that the only solid witness you have to corroborate that alibi is me, and now that they know that we're dating.." You open your mouth to speak up and correct that point but he just bulldozes right over it, continuing.

"..all my good standing as a reliable, unbiased witness is forefit. Not to mention the fact that if they come back to find you're not here and after they check in with your primary physician's office who will be doubtlessly clueless and unaware of your whereabouts, let alone the knowledge that you were even sick period, it's not gonna look good. It's not gonna look good at all, doll." All you can do is gape at him.

"Now let's discuss the angle you've proposed. You and me out on that open road, tossing our troubles and lives into the wind for a life on the run. You need a plan, you need to know where you are going and how you're going to get there. You need to consider what you're going to do when you get there and I don't just mean in the immediate future, I'm talking long term, end game. Can you make a living and sustain yourself on the run and for how long?"

"Five, ten, fifteen months into the future. Years and years of a new identity, a new life, a new name. No contact whatsoever with your old family or friends, not even an anonymous postcard in the mail."

"You'd need contingencies for if the police catch up with us. Are we surrendering? Are we running? Are we going out guns blazing? Don't get me wrong, doll. If we do this, we're doing this. I am with you until the end, full on Bonnie and Clyde style if that's what it comes down to, but that is something I think you aren't as prepared for all the realities of as you believe." He finishes, decimating your half cocked idea.

"Crust or no crust?" He asks, a kitchen knife in hand, poised to cut over the very edge of a steaming hot grilled cheese. You answer him in a soft, distant voice before he launches back in, right where he'd left off.

"Now.." He begins anew. "Let's consider the avenue you haven't perused just yet but I can see you eyeing up in the back of that beautiful brain of yours. Say you decide to reach out to the police, courtesy of the little business card Officer Tren so readily provided you with, and told them the god's honest. That it was self defense, that Josh approached you on your way into work this morning and tried to strangle you to death and it could have been you they had toe-tagged and carted off to county this morning instead of him."

"But that would raise the question of why.. Why lie about something like that, and to the police at that. When you lie to the police on an official report that's called perjury, which in the state of Florida is classified as a felony of the third degree. And while the fact that their visit may or may not be classified as an official report is something that could be easily debated, it's essentially a toss up."

"And as for whether or not you'd see any jail time for that, being a first time offender with a clean record and all, is also a pure toss up, depending on the judge you get and the mood of said judge. All of that could come out as a wash in the end, but in the end it still raises the question of why. Why would you lie about something like that? And one question raises many others and you'd more likely than not be pulled in for further questioning. Which is a whole other can of worms with a whole other can of possible outcomes depending on your fortitude and willingness to corporate with the police."

"I am not saying all of this to scare you, sweetheart. Truly, I'm not. I simply want you aware of all the possibilities and all their possible outcomes since you wanted to discuss them." He says and finally falls blessedly silent as he plates your soup and the grilled cheese he had labored over all the while he was explaining all of this at such length.

This left you with a lot to think about and no reassurances. You folded your arms on the bar top and sat, deep in retrospection. Every option seemed like the shittiest option. He pushed your plate, complete with full bowl of steaming hot soup and two sandwich halves towards you, nudging your arm with it.

"Eat." He says simply and digs in to his own meal. You both eat in relative silence, but eat you do. Shoveling spoonfuls of soup and bites of sandwich into your mouth passively until you're pulled from your thoughts by the clank of the spoon against the ceramic of your empty bowl.

He, apparently having been done awhile, stacks your bowls and plates and carries them to the sink where he fills one basin with hot, soapy water and makes quick work of the dishes the pair of you had made.

When he'd finished he turned away from the sink to find you still sat there in the same place at the bar and after rehanging up the dish towel he crossed the room towards you, a fact you didn't even realize until he'd made it there and the front of his chest was pressed up, warm and frustratingly familiar against your back. You tensed reflexively and then relaxed and upon relaxing he wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on top of your head from behind, until once it again it was like you were wrapped up in him, an unsettlingly soothing position.

"I know this is hard for you and I know I haven't had the chance to really ease you into this as much as I would have liked but you're doing so well, doll. Honestly I am so surprised and so proud at how well you've taken all of this. You may not be able to see it but you are built for this. I knew it the second I laid eyes on you. I know you probably think I singled you out because I thought you were weak or an easy target but that couldn't be further from the truth. You have a resilience, a mental fortitude that rivals any victim I've encountered before." It was that word, that one word that made your eyes blink open from where they had been comfortably resting lid to lid, like a dusty switch being turned on after remaining shuttered and dormant for a long, long time. It was like stepping out of the dark.

"And I know right now this probably all seems like a terrible nightmare to you, but for me, it's a dream come true and soon, with time, I hope you'll see my vision too. Until then, I'll be right here with you every step of the way. I promise."

This was not the grand motivational, emotion-chocked speech that he must have thought it was to you. But it did snap you out of the daze of shock that had settled over you like a fog and made everything that had for so long now been lost in the mist once more crystal clear. So when he spun your stool around so you were facing him and he pulled you into his arms, you hugged him back, genuinely.

And at the squeeze of your arms around him something in the back of Danny's mind flagged. A sensor of the most ancient, primal variety. An instinct that he did not heed, but he felt all the same. Before he could decipher it for what it was it was drowned out in a tidal wave of affection and hope, hope that was ultimately false.

10:59pm April 30th, 2026

"You know what? I know exactly what you need, babygirl. Let's get lit, you and me. I grabbed a couple of joints back at my place earlier and doesn't a hit just sound lovely right about now? Then we can kick back and relax a little bit for once. Watch a movie, have some sex, see where the night takes us, yeah?" He asks and in familiar style does not wait to see what you'll say.

All of that at dinner to shoot down your plans and his brilliant alternative is to partake in recreational drug use, watch a movie and fuck nasty style on the couch again? You think not.

He hops up and strides down the hallway towards your back bedroom trusting that, just like the sun shall rise tomorrow, you will be there when he returns.But that was his mistake.

You weren't even aware of the notion growing within you until it was too late to advert it. Without even being actively aware you were doing it, your feet had stood you up from your place on the couch and walked you past the kitchen, through your little laundry nook and had stopped you two feet from your back door. It was barred and chained, but your fingers took care of the heavy work before your mind could even begin to grapple with the decision of doing so. The door cracked soundlessly and a soft, chilly breeze, brisk in breath, blew through the gap.

You took one solitary step towards the door, and then one became two, and then two blended in with all the rest after and before you knew it you were out the door, and down the steps, then out in the yard and then beyond it. And your steps became a jog and your jog became a run.

You slipped through your backyard as silent as a wraith, through the cold, tightly grown shrubbery that marked the divide between your property and the next and emerged from the front yard of the house behind yours. You crossed the lawn where grass gave way to concrete, which dropped off in turn to paved asphalt, and then you were running down the street.

Aware of nothing but the rush of mist down the blades of your forearms as they sliced through the night air. The pump of your legs as they carried you, seemingly boundless with energy through your neighboring streets. Your sneakers splashed down into puddles of rain colder than even the Arctic sea and your sinuses filled with air even more frigid than the rain.

You ran and ran and didn't stop, not even when your feet began to ache, not even when Danny's voice pierced the night air with the sound of your name, sending your heart into a burst of beats more rapid than a hummingbirds wings.

You felt an exhilaration you thought reserved only for those bungee jumping or standing at the summit of mountain peaks. The roar of rushing blood and the great woosh of air drawing in and out of your burning lungs dominated your ears. You weaved in and out of flourescent street light beams, materializing and vanising in and out of existence in intermittent flashes by way of pounding feet.

You had no thoughts, aware of nothing as for the very first time in your life instinct outweighed rational thought and you let it carry you as far as your legs would alot you to go.

Treemont Street had become Maple, Maple bled into Roosevelt Lane, Roosevelt Lane became First Ave and then after that you were lost. The street signs read foreign names that held as much meaning to you as ancient hieroglyphs, and still you didn't stop.

Your body finally gassed out and forced you to a halt somewhere in an alley between Neibolt Street and Rugsby Ave. You doubled over, body folded in half as your lungs heaved air in painful gasping draws. It felt like a lance had pierced them and was still firmly lodged there; if you put your hand to your ribs you could pinpoint exactly where it had run you through and you half expected to feel the pinprick tip poking out from between them, almost but not quite protruding the skin on the other side.

When you finally recovered some, you straightened up and took a cursory look around. The streets were empty and eerie. A fine mist hung in the air and your skin was wet for having raced through it. As much as you wanted to, you didn't linger.

You were vaguely aware of whereabout in the city you were. You had ran your way through the suburbs, past dark shuttered houses, beyond the small, trendy, uptown district with its bohemian boutiques and artisian bars still lively with what small circles made up Roseville's pulsing nightlife and were now somewhere seemingly behind the scenic downtown part of Roseville with its brick and mortar facades and heavy wrought iron street posts. You took a deep, centering breath and looked around again.

Vermillion Street, you had heard that one before, you thought, in passing somewhere. Vermillion Street bunted up against Sesame Road, a real missed opportunity in your opinion, Sesame Street was right there! Standing in the intersection of Vermillion and Sesame you took a real in-depth survey of your surroundings. John Tom's Hardware House and Ellie Marie's Habidashery and The Great Bernini Ice Cream Parlor, you were sensing a theme here. All buisnesses you had never been in and were completely unfamiliar with.

You knew with a kind of mild certainty that with this being somewhere near the heart of downtown Roseville, that had to mean that Main Street would have to intersect it somewhere and from there you could navigate your course, but where was it exactly? And how long would it take you to find it?

Enough time for Danny to play catchup? Was he out here with you even now? In the streets, waiting around every dark corner to corral you home again? It was a chance you didn't dare. Keeping The Great Bernini Ice Cream Parlor to your right, you headed up the street. Perhaps the park or maybe the courthouse would have a map of the city you could course correct by.

You passed streets with names you recognized but had no frame of reference for. You had heard Tommy at work talk about the sub shop on Renee Drive and here it was, but hadn't he also said that it was across town and that's why he always stopped by before work to get his sandwiches? Because he never had enough time on his lunch break to get there and back and eat.

You tried to triangulate the distance between here and work and home but after a few minutes of forced concentration and with half remembered mathematics equations from high school to go on, you gave up with a huff. You were lost and thank god for the soup and grilled cheese sandwich Danny had practically stuffed down your throat before you'd up and bolted. You were going to need every ounce of that energy to make it back home.

But when? When was it safe to go home again? Would it ever be? Could you afford to never go home again? But that was a preposterous thought. You couldn't avoid going home, it was your home. You had nothing with you save the clothes on your back. No purse, no wallet, no cash, no identification.

What the fuck were you thinking?

I wasn't thinking.

The voice rising out of your consciousness answered and it sounded so clear in your head it was almost audible and that made you jump, quickly moving away from the place where you'd lapsed as if to put distance between you and it.

You crossed the street and rounded a corner onto a new road that may as well have been the exact same one you just turned off of for all you recognized of it. The names of the businesses tacked up on their marquees were the only indication you had to reliably know you weren't running in circles.

There was an abrupt crash from the other side of the street up ahead. Your eyes snapped towards the source of the sound as you froze in place, heart once more thudding in your chest, seeming to climb up your throat with each succinct beat.

And then you felt naked all over again. Forget the fact that you had no purse and no cash; how about the fact that you had no weapon, no safeguard, nothing to defend yourself save your own fists and how much good would that do you?

You took one retreating step, eyes glued to the mouth of an alley halfway up the street that you designated as the source of the sound. One step once more became two and then you were running again, once more for no good reason at all and with no goal in mind as you rounded one corner and then two and then were doubly lost.

You crossed a train track and an overpass and that place in your side where you'd felt that imaginary lance pierce you after your earlier bout of sprinting had become an epicenter of sharp radiating pain. Waves that washed over and through you in time with your fluttering pulse.

Catching your breath the second time was a harder, slower process and you decided then and there that save for a chase, you would be running no more. But there was at least one silver lining, you actually recognized where you were.

Witcham Street was a road you'd been on once before, back when you'd first moved to Roseville. Upon settling into your new town you'd managed to snag a job interview at the place where you now worked off the back of a chance encounter with an old friend who gave you a tip that he was leaving town for a job opportunity somewhere else and the place he'd been at previously would be hiring to fill his position.

Since you worked in the same field you'd applied and been delighted to receive a call back. You got the job, even despite having arrived late because of a missed turn; where you ended up two blocks over from the building, on the very same Witcham Street that you now walked. Although back then at least you had a car to traverse by, now you had to walk the two blocks you'd miscalculated the first time on foot.

It took you fifteen minutes alone to walk those two blocks, but it was all worth it when the stout shitpile of brick that was your place of work came into blessed view and the smile on your face at the sight of it made your cheeks ache with the stretch. You had never been so happy to arrive at work.

But the smile faded into a look of stupefied awe as your eyes caught upon the distinctive yellow caution tape sectioning off the entrance to the parking garage as it billowed with belied life in the late night breeze. It was hard to believe you'd been standing here in this same place mere hours earlier on this same day, with all that had been crammed into those hours between that moment and this one, it felt like eons had passed.

Like all your decisions this night have been, you ducked under the caution tape for no real reason at all and went in. The garage was dark this time of night but there were a few overhead flourescents on in strategically spaced intervals so as to deter the homeless and the nefarious from loitering around where they shouldn't and to give the security cameras a little light to capture things by.

Your feet took you off the beaten path towards the southpaw entrance once again, past cameras that you knew would not catch you until you were standing at the farmost wall where in a crude semicircle, anchored off on either side from the nearly busted elevator, there was another barrier of bright yellow caution tape, this one as silent and as still as the dead as it cordoned off a section of tightly marked unholy ground.

You stopped on the outside of this grim perimeter, unwilling to trespass on the killing floor of which you became an unwilling participant and stared at that stretch of concrete for an undeterminable stretch of time replaying the incident over and over again as a kind of tribute, acknowledging all that took place. It seemed like the only right thing to do considering you had chosen to besmirch the truth and commit to the lie today.

The least you could do was remember all that had happened here in it's entirety one last time, and maybe that's the real reason you ran away, maybe you were always running here and you just never had realized it until now.

They had cleaned the space, probably scoured it from top to bottom trying to figure out exactly what had happened to Josh. You wondered what evidence you could have left behind in your haste, wondered what evidence you were leaving behind even now in returning to this place.

This was a bad idea.

Yes. You knew that, but it hadn't been so much an idea really as it had been an impulse and you were never really good with controlling those at the best of times in your life and this most certainly did not classify as the best of times.

When your mind ran out of reel, when it finally stopped replaying the sordid scene again and again you had to ask yourself what comes next.

What was left now that all had been done and acknowledged and laid to rest as best you knew how? You had to do what everyone does when the grief comes home to roost. You move on.

You turned away from it then for a final time. Starting for home you slipped back out into the misty night and tried to do just that.

You remembered someone or other always saying to you as a child 'tell a lie enough times and it will become true' and with as many times as you'd told the lie about you being sick, by the end of tonight you thought the odds were very likely that it would become a reality.

You figured it had to be well past midnight when you finally walked through your front door again.

Of all the many, many things that you'd dreamt could be waiting for you upon your return home an empty house was not one of them, and yet that's exactly the sight you were greeted with on arrival.

You push open the front door poised to flinch at the first signs of the no-holds-barred onslaught you were sure Danny would be launching into as soon as your feet crossed the threshold, but it never came. Instead, all was dark and quiet.

Unbelieving, you push further into the still silence. You test a lamp, wondering if the storm had possibly downed a line somewhere up the power stream and that maybe was the ultimate source of the darkness, but one switch was all it took to debunk the theory.

The lamp came on at once and doused the room in a spill of light, driving back the darkness. Your ears pricked, expecting any minute now to hear Danny start in from one corner of the house or another about all the ways you'd betrayed him and all the fun exciting methods he'd devised to punish you for it, but his voice never came.

You cleared the whole house, room by room. Everything was just as you'd left, nothing amiss. It was only when you'd come shuffling back into the kitchen with your soaked through sneakers squeaking on the linoleum the only sound to accompany you that you noticed the small, blinking red light on the mostly unused corner of the far kitchen counter.

Your eyes squinted in mild confusion as you focused in on it. It didn't alarm you, you knew exactly what it was, though you hadn't seen the little blinking light in ages. It was the answering machine that for the entirety of your time occupying this house sat like a squat, malign toad in the corner, hooked up and operational but that went mostly unused; this was after all the golden age of smartphones and when you'd moved in originally you'd been surprised to learn the place still had a serviced landline tacked onto and inseparable for whatever reason from your rent.

You hardly ever got any calls and you certainly didn't use it, why would you have? But there were a few people who had the number in case of absolute emergencies. It was only then that you remembered about Danny snapping your phone in half just earlier that same day and your heart sort of skipped a beat. What if something had happened? To Mom? Dad? Your brother?

That was all it took for you to cross the kitchen and stand before it. The little digital read out flashed up at you the number 3. Your heart took a leap into your throat and you had to swallow to force it back down into place as you picked up the receiver with shaky hands and hit PLAY. The clunky but sultry automated female voice of the machine informed you that you had three. new. messages. She then promoted the first and a real, genuine human on the other end of the line, one you immediately recognized, began to sound through the reciever.

Erin.

"Hey dork. What's up with your phone? You didn't seriously break another phone, did you? And have you heard from Marcy? Have you two been hanging out without me again? She ditched our dinner date plans and now she's not answering her phone either. I swear if you two ran off to Vegas like we always talked about without me then I'm kicking both your asses when you get back. Seriously, call me!" BEEP. "End of message."

Then a loud beep indicating the end of the message and that same sultry automated voice came back on to state the obvious before promoting message. number. two.

Mom.

"Honey? It's mom. What's going on down there? I've been trying your phone all day and it just keeps putting me right through to your voicemail like it's off or something. Your aunt called the resort in a huff and said something about trouble down there. You know they confiscated our phones at the start of the retreat, it's done wonders for your father and me. I think when we get back we'll be canceling our phone plan. You know what they say, in this new digital age everybody is expected to be available every minute of every day. It used to not be like that you know, back when I was a girl you cou— Oop. I— I heard a beep. Honey? Shoot. I think it cut me off. Honey? If you're still hearing this I'll call you soon or— or you call me. The resort I mean— call the resort and they'll patch me through. I love you! If you can still hear me I love y—" BEEP. "End of message."

"You have one. new. message." From the sultry robot lady and then a voice you didn't recognize for a change on the other end. A woman, middle aged and tired but maintaining her carefully curated professionalism as she starts in.

"Hello, this the Roseville Police Department. I'm calling today to officially inform you that Detective John Moore is requesting your presence down at the Roseville precinct at your earliest convenience. He has a few questions regarding an ongoing investigation. It is advised that you do not leave town and again to please come down to the station at your earliest convenience. Thank you." BEEP.

"End of message. You have no. new. messages. at this time." Then silence save for your own breathing as you stand at the kitchen counter, one hand clutching the counters edge like a lifeline, the other whiteknuckling the handset still held tightly up to your ear.

There's a ringing starting in your ears, growing in pitch and volume until it drowns out all else. Nothing but the ringing in your ears as your pulse spikes and the room around you spins and the world that had once been so steadfastly anchored beneath your feet becomes unmoored from its axis and drops away out from under you. You think you may be sick. You spin around to rush towards the bathroom or perhaps the sink when your eyes catch on something, something that should not have been.

Sitting front and center of the middle placemat on the bar top was a brand new but cheaply manufactured mobile phone— what one would call a burner, in a gleaming strip of moonlight. You walked over with hesitant, stuttering steps, queasiness momentarily forgotten.

Your eyes locked to it, trained and unblinking as if it could disappear in between one moment and the next. You reach out and put a hand over the smooth, compact device and pull it back again, frightful for a reason you cannot fathom. It's a cell phone, not a mimic. Get a grip.

Then it's sitting in the palm of your hand, the flat of your palm stiff and rigid, fingers uniform and tucked tight together, poised just as one does to offer an apple to a horse.

You breathe out a few succinct shaky breaths and flip the burner open. It lights up, sitting at ninety-nine percent battery and ready to go. The background looks simple and default. From here you get a little lost. No pictures, no open text threads, no call log. Why is this here? Where did it come from? Are you dreaming this? Wouldn't that be a relief.

You start flipping through random menus and categories when your eyes catch on a bit of text on screen and your fingers pause over the directional pad. There is one listed contact. It reads simply: Call Me.

You read it and reread it and, hanging on hard to that dream theory, you pressed the green call button.

It rang two consecutive times and connected on the second ring.

"Ohhh Doll. I'm so glad you called. I missed you so much." Danny's voice coos from the other end of the line. And the relief you hear is sincere, you can hear it in his voice. He means every delusional word. No dream.

"Danny, where are you?" You ask, attempting to jump straight over the bullshit to the heart of the issue.

"You went out so I went out. Maybe if you would have waited and taken a second to consult with me beforehand we could have done something together like a couple instead of making separate plans."

"Danny this is serious, the cops they're—"

"Looking for you? Yeah, I know. Don't worry I've got it all handled."

"Han— I'm sorry, handled? You. You have it handled?" You ask incredulously.

"Of course, don't I always? Now, let's backtrack for a second. How was your little night run, hmm? Don't think you're off the hook for that. You could have at least offered to let me tag along. I'm not mad per se, just disappointed. We could have had soooo much fun chasing each other around after dark— well, I'd be doing most of the chasing I'm sure, but still. It would have been good for us."

At some point you'd begun to pace, straddling the boundary between the kitchen and living room, where carpet transitions to linoleum back and forth. Waiting for him to stop talking, waiting— endlessly waiting, for him to stop toying with you for five minutes so you can stop feeling like your mind is on constant panic mode. Like you're always switched into damage control.

"But enough about us, we'll settle the score later. Did you meet any interesting characters out on your little adventure, hmm? Most would be worried about you running into Roseville's Ghost going out that late at night, but we both know you don't have to worry about that." He says, his voice oozing with teasing inflection.

"I like this. This is nice. We kinda jumped right over the talking stage you and me, well— mostly me. But that doesn't mean our relationship has to follow the traditional linear path, you know?"

"Life is ups and downs babe, we had our first little spat as a couple. It happens. What matters is us and—"

"WE ARE NOT A TOGETHER!!" You yell into the phone, finally snapping. The backbone you'd grown in the act of fleeing your captor in the middle of the night flexing its vertebrae. But as always Danny takes the punches and keeps on rolling through them.

"You're right doll. We aren't together. Right now we are physically not together. But—"

Danny emphasizes and then he stops talking long enough for a blood curdling scream to cut through the line, a distinctly female scream that tapered off into a chilling, wretched sob. And at that all of your supposed spine shriveled and died at the prospect of your defiance causing outward harm to others.

"DANNY STOP!" You scream once again into the reciever, hand gripping the little burner so hard it's plastic casing crinks in protest.

"—if you don't want little miss Marcy here to pay the price for your sudden rebellious streak I suggest you rectify that. And soon. I am a patient man, doll. But I don't know how much longer I can bear us to be apart."

"I swear to god, Danny. If you fucking hurt her—" you begin to threaten, but he cuts you off, per usual.

"She's not hurt, she's scared. Can you blame her, doll? Unlike you she hasn't gotten used to strange men slipping into her home in the middle of the night and tying her up for their own devices. Give her some time, she'll adjust." You have no words, no comebacks, not even the mind to plea with him. All you can think about is getting in the car and getting to Marcy.

"I didn't want this babygirl, you forced my hand. I wanted a nice, peaceful night in, just you and me. You are the one who insisted on spicing things up. But that's our little game, isn't it? You play hard to get, I play hard to get away from. That's classic us, babe."

"It would have been all too easy to kill my way back to you. I could have done that, you know? I had half a mind to. But then I thought 'what would my doll have me do?' and I knew you wouldn't approve. Don't you see, doll? Even after all this I'm still making sacrifices for you." He seems to be done ranting, as he pauses before reiterating the ultimate point of the conversation at hand.

"Now you can come to me quietly, like a good girl. Or not, and I'll be forced to kill as many people as it takes to get the resources I need to track you down, starting with poor little Marcy. The streets of Roseville will run red, that I can promise you. And there will be no place on this Earth you can hide from me then. Bodies upon bodies, babygirl. I will sever every last one of their lifelines, every last bloodline on this earth if that's what it takes to crawl back to you. The choice is yours."

When you next speak your voice is hard but complicit, sober of any and all gumption.

"Where are you?"

“This isn’t still in service, is it?” You asked, trying your best to make yourself sound curious instead of hesitant.

“No worries,” Marco answered, “we hang here all the time.” The fact that this didn’t answer your question was an answer itself.

As you all started to walk onto it, you were sure that you were at the back so the boys would be less likely to see you watching every step you were taking. The way that the old boards creaked under you all was not at all reassuring. Still, all the rest in your group were walking as casually as they did on the pier; Paul was practically walking on his tiptoes like he did when he was excited about something. One of the planks squeaked so loudly when you stepped on it, that is made all of the boys turn and look your way.

“You good?” Dwayne almost had to call back from where he was standing.

“Yeah,” you gave an unconvincing nonchalant answer.

Marco and Dwayne turned and kept on their way to the middle of the bridge. David kept an eye on you for another few moments. It was hard to place what the look on his face was portraying, but it was something that was focused. It was markedly easy to tell what the look on Paul’s face was: ornery as it usually was.

“Tell ya what- If you do fall one of us will catch you. Sound good?” He teased as you brushed past him.

While you weren’t going to let him know you were worried about falling, you did decide that if someone were to have to stop you from plunging to your watery death below (if you were lucky enough to hit the water and not a rock or a tree or…) it would be difficult for them to do that if you were dragging your feet so far away from them.

It was a difficult choice between trusting your feet to find the next step themselves and looking down and watching your vision double at the sight of the spaces between the boards. While you were switching between the two your foot caught on the track and in your panicked effort to balance you went to grab onto one of the beams along the side of the bridge- except it was further ahead of you than you thought, making you miss it and tumble over the side.

Subconsciously bracing yourself for the inevitable impact, your body tightened every muscle that it had as your mind turned itself off. The last things you processed was the blur of things flying past you before you were stopped by something. While you never fainted, you certainly weren’t conscious anymore.

“Jesus, clumsy,” a voice that you couldn’t process was muffled by the ringing in your ears.

“Told you we catch you,” a voice farther away chimed in.

-

The boys weren’t too worried. It wasn’t like you were in any real danger; for them a fall off the bridge was the same as a trip on the sidewalk. They’ve even shoved each other off on purpose more times than they can count. After all, being able to fly took the danger out of a lot of things. Once Marco had flown you back up, they expected you to be frazzled, but nothing too bad.

That was until Paul noticed the glazed over, unmoving stare in your eyes right around the time Marco processed how rigid you were. Dwayne was the first to walk over when he noticed the two of them being uncharacteristically quiet, and was followed quickly by David.

“Breathing?” David demanded as he approached.

“Yeah, but barely. Quick and shallow,” Dwayne answered, one of his hands resting on your upper chest and the other on the side of your neck. He didn’t have to tell the other three how hard your heart was racing; they could all hear that loud and clear.

Marco was still holding you, doing his best to keep you sitting up while Paul was poking, prodding, and pinching along your arms in an effort to snap you out of the state you were in. David knelt down to look at you himself. He tried to look into your mind, but retracted from you quickly with a cringe and an audible hiss.

“David? What’s going on?” Paul asked, looking over as David smoothed his hands through his bleached hair in an effort to soothe his now throbbing temples.

“Noting good,” he seethed before walking back the way you had all came, ordering, “Marco, take them back to the cave. We’ll meet you there.”

Marco looked between you and David a few times before asking, “What about my bike?”

“Fuck your bike! Move your ass!” David snapped, making the other two wince as Marco scrambled to stand up, pick you up bridal style, and get into the air.

There was little noise from the others as they all walked back to their cycles other than the clomp of their boots on the bridge turning into the crunching of gravel as they stepped off of it. Once they were all getting back on their prided vehicles, David spoke up, “Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Paul questioned nervously.

“David, are you sure?” Dwayne asked hesitantly.

“Tonight,” David insisted before turning his engine and peeling out like a bolt of lightning.

-

When your body was finally starting to function on a less panicked level, the first thing you saw was a very focused Marco. The second that your breathing deepened a bit, he noticed. “Hey, Hey!” He said both expressing his relief and getting your attention, “Focus on me, yeah? We’re almost back.”

You were still too out of it to question where you were going or how exactly you were getting there. You closed your eyes for a moment, listing to what was around you. There was still the remnants of your heartbeat in your ears, but there was also wind whistling past you. You hadn’t remembered it being windy tonight, but sometimes being so close to a coast made the air fickle. Right as the mystery wind settled down, you heard Marco’s boots clanking on the metal walkway leading to the hideout. “C’mon, stay with me,” he instructed, coaxing you to open your eyes again, causing him let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Once you were both inside, he sat you down on a ratty couch that was tossed in some random corner of the sunken hotel; then he flopped down next to you. The both of you sat there for who knows how long before you finally asked, “How did I get here?”

You knew the short answer was that Marco brought you here. There were bits and pieces that you could vaguely pull up from the time you tripped to ending up at their place. You flexed your fingers slowly, feeling like they were thawing out from being held in the snow.

“I caught you before you fell too far,” Marco mumbled as he put his arm over his eyes to block out what little light was in the cave at the moment, “But, you, like… I don’t know. Your body just quit or something. David had me rush you here since I was already holdin’ you, then you snapped out of it right before we got here.”

Even though he seemed to still be trying to figure out what had happened himself, Marco had given you enough to let you piece together the main thing that took place after you were back on the bridge.

“I, uh… I had a panic attack. It happens… especially when something freaks me out,” you explained best as you could through your remaining haze.

There was a laugh, out of disbelief and only mildly humor, from Marco as he moved his arm and looked over at you. “Well, you managed to freak us out too, so congrats on that. That’s not easy to do!” It seemed like he was telling the truth because despite his small, tired smile his face was so creased with worry that the dim light in the cave almost made his features look exaggerated in some way.

Before the two of you could say anything else, the sound of motorcycle engines caught your attention. Shortly after they all cut, there was a loud, metallic bang, and Paul popped around the corner shortly after. His eye brightened when he saw you sitting up by yourself.

“Look who it is! I’d welcome you back to the land of the living if I could! How’re you feeling?” He pelted you with words.

You weren’t really sure exactly what he was talking about, but answered, “I’m a bit better. My head hurts and my nose is still a bit numb, but I’m getting there I think.”

Dwayne and David walked up as you were telling Paul how you were doing, and while they weren’t quite as outwardly emotional as the other two, they did seem to make a beeline toward you; David held back a bit and watched you for a minute. Once he seemed convinced you weren’t going to keel over, he walked into another part of the cave.

Dwayne, in a move surprising to you all, walked up behind Paul and slapped him on the back of the head, causing the blonde to yelp. “The hell was that for?” Paul sneered.

“You dented the walk way when you jumped, dumbass,” Dwayne scoffed as he walked over to couch and sat on the armrest that was closet to you. “You hanging in there?” He asked. He knew you had just answered that, but also wanted to double check.

“Panic attack,” Marco answered for you.

With a hum, Dwayne reached down and brushed your hair away from your face, “You should have told us you were feeling bad. We could’ve slowed down a bit before this happened.”

This got a laugh from you, “You guys don’t slow down for anything.”

“We’d slow down for you,” Paul chimed in.

“But, just a little bit,” Marco teased.

“Yeah, don’t want to get all old and boring like Max,” Paul said more to Marco than to you.

You gave him a confused look and asked, “You mean the video guy on the boardwalk?” That was the only person named Max you could think of in the area.

Dwayne shot the other two a warning look. Paul just shrugged it off and kept going, “Yeah, he’s like a weird, boring uncle that we’ve known for forever. That’s why we’re always giving him a hard time.”

This level of information sharing seemed to confuse Marco, like you were just told a secret that they were supposed to take to their graves. Paul reflected the confusion for a second before something dawned on him. “Right you weren’t with us. David’s gonna be here any second with it.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Marco looked over to you, but then quickly over to Dwayne, “Like, right now?”

The sudden suspense from the sudden change in the atmosphere made your body start to tense up again. “What exactly is David getting?” You asked nervously.

Their attention all snapped over to you, and there was almost a giddiness to how they looked at you.

“It’s… something to help your head feel better,” was the explanation Dwayne offered.

“Not just your head. You’ll feel a million times better than you ever had,” Marco added.

You looked between the three of them suspiciously before pointedly questioning, “What are you guys trying to give me?”

“Yo! We’re not gonna drug you or anything!” Paul pouted at the accusation, “It’s just a drink.”

An amused laugh interrupted the conversation. David walked up to the rest of you with an ornately decorated, yet very dusty bottle. “I see you’re all doing a great job convincing them we’re a bunch of axe murderers,” he purposefully body checked Marco to scoot him over as he sat himself between you two.

“That would be crazy, right?” You laughed nervously as you looked at the bottle then up to David.

“Of course,” David agreed with a suspiciously innocent smile before adding, “we don’t use axes.”

Before you could do anything else to stall, David took the cork out of the bottle and held it in your direction. “Drink it. You won’t regret it,” he insisted. When you still didn’t give in, he looked you in the eyes, a mesmerizingly intimate action, and asked, “You think I’d mislead you?”

“Yes,” you answered bluntly, but in a whisper as your resolve started to waver.

A smirk that made the rest of his face slightly crinkle with mischief made its way across his lips. He leaned in closer, almost pressing to opening of the bottle to your mouth. “But, you’d still follow me, right?”

You didn’t say anything. Tentatively, you reached a hand up to hold the jewel covered glass, your fingers brushing against David’s on the other side as you did. With his grin turning into an actual smile, he helped you tip it so that the red liquid inside made it into your mouth while the others cheered and hollered. There was an odd, metallic taste to in, as well as some sort of sparkling, not quiet fizzy feel to it, yet for some reason you enjoyed both. Like it was something that you could never get enough of. In fact, if it weren’t for David being there to pull it away, who knows how much of it you would have drank.

Things seemed hazy; it wasn’t the frenzied panic that you had just come out of. This felt somehow energizing and mellowing at the same time, like all the care in your body was sucked out and replaced all the time in the world.

“Whoa, that hit fast,” Paul teased as he sat on the floor in front of you.

“Been a crazy night. Probably didn’t have much fight left in their brain to think about it too much,” Marco thought out loud.

“Maybe this should have waited a night or two. I think the left over nerves are reacting. Eyes are already yellow,” Dwayne observed as he tilted your head up to look at him.

.Ben is the Super for the building you live in. He fell for you when he helped you move your furniture into your place!

.He fell in love with you right away, to the point of obsession.

.He was so obsessed with you that he was the type of yandere who would put cameras in your home.

.Specifically, he has a camera on your toilet and not in your shower. He was a bit of a perverted yandere who put watching you use the toilet instead of watching you shower (Piss Muffin, Piss)

.He was so enamoured and obsessed with you as a yandere that he has made sure to watch you every single day and even breaks into your apartment.

.Since he is the super, he has a key to your apartment, and he has broken in, gone through your things, smelled your things, and even jerked off in your bed while smelling your underclothes.

.He is even making a fake version of your apartment to look just like the one you have.

.He has it ready for you so that he can one day bring you down to it and tell you that he has everything ready for you, honey.

.He is very much a yandere who would stalk you and do everything he can to make sure you are his and his alone.

.He would find you to be everything he wants, and he cannot live without you; he needs you.

.He watches you leave the building and come home, and he stays up to make sure you make it home safely and that you are not bringing anyone over.

.He would be so jealous, and anytime you bring anyone over, he sabotages your date night or even friends and family nights.

.So that way you are not with them, and he would make sure you think it is just because of the shitty old building and not him.

.He also is a yandere who would worm his way into your life so that he can make sure you are his and his alone and that you belong to no one else but him.

.He is a yandere who will isolate you from anyone and everyone in your life and make you depend on him.

.So he is slowly chipping away at your social life to make you need him and him alone.

.He is going to make sure that you need him and that you belong to him forever and ever.

.He is a yandere who will kidnap you at some point, but we will get to that in a bit.

.When it comes to his rivals, he does not stand for them, and if they are in the building, he is going to kill them and gut them.

.Taking great pleasure in torturing them and making them suffer for trying to be with you.

.He would even take their organs and put them down the garbage disposal.

.He is making sure they suffer for trying to get with you, because he is a very jealous yandere and cannot stand the idea of them or anyone other than him being with you.

.If his rivals do not live in the building, he will get them banned from the premises, and if they end up coming onto the property, he will call the police for trespassing and have them arrested.

.That way they are still out of the picture, and he can make sure that he has you to all himself~

.He is not going to let anyone else get in the way of his love. He is a yandere who would even see your family as a threat to his love for you, and he will do everything to be your one and only~ 

.He is also very possessive, seeing you as his property, and if you are not going to be a good darling, then he will have to kidnap you and do whatever he can to keep you safe and sound. 

.When he finally has his hands on you, he is not going to let you go; you will belong to him and him alone. 

.He is not going to let you leave him, and he is going to keep you by his side so that he can make you stay. 

.He does everything he can to keep you safe, and you're trying to fight him, or trying to leave him, he cannot stand it. 

.So that he is going to keep you with him, even if it is against your will, he does not care what he has to do. He will make sure to keep you safe and keep you as his and his alone. 

.When he finally confesses his love to you, it is when he can get you alone, and that he can have you, and even if you run from him, you will not get away! 

.He made the plan perfect, and he was going to do everything to make sure that he caught you and got you to be his and his alone. One way or another. 

.So if you accept his love, you have done it the easy way, and he is going to have so much fun with you. 

.He probably will want to do some fantasies that have you and him and his job as a super. Maybe it is because you are late with the rent, and you would pay your rent in another way. 

.He is going to fuck you on camera too, so he can watch it back and watch you get fucked by him over and over. 

.But if you say no, he is going to snap and say no, no, no, you are going to be his, and you are going to accept it one day. 

.This is where he will drug and/or knock you out so that he can kidnap you and have you as the love of his life. 

.He is going to take care of you; all you have to do is love him and be a good darling for him. 

.You are his honey, and he has everything ready for you; you and he will be so happy together, he will make sure of it. 

.Just be a good darling for him and let him love you forever and always~ 

.Then he will be happy with his unhinged, obsessive love for you, and you and he can finally be happy together, forever. 

.Just like he has always dreamed, since the day he met you and helped you move in, from that day, you were his, and you will always be his,