Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6163489.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Slender_Man_Mythos, Creepypasta_-_Fandom, Tribe_Twelve, Everyman_HYBRID,
      Marble_Hornets
  Character:
      Slender_Man
  Additional Tags:
      Original_Character(s), POV_First_Person, POV_Original_Female_Character
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-03-05 Updated: 2016-09-27 Chapters: 4/? Words: 15233
****** Fall Away ******
by Travel_with_me_my_dear
Summary
     One year. One whole year of loss, torment, and constantly questioning
     my sanity. There’s this thing that has been stalking me; ruining my
     life, and I can’t even say why. I’m insignificant, a regular
     teenager...but it won’t seem to leave me alone or let me die. This
     isn't a story about a hero defeating a scary monster, or a love
     story, or even about an underdog rising. Who’s to even say that there
     will be a happy ending? This is a story about tragedy and the will to
     survive. This is my story.
Notes
     Hello all!
     First off, thank you so much for taking the time to read this!
     Comments are always welcome, I could always use some advice. Second,
     just a few warnings. This is a story that I have been working on for
     over two years now, in my head, and I'm just now beginning to put
     those ideas into chapters. This is a really long story. At this time
     right now, it may have up to 25ish chapters; which means that it's a
     slow boiler. All of the events that are going to transpire won't
     begin until a few chapters down the line. I've put so much thought
     into this plot, I don't want to just throw everything out on the
     table. Where's the fun in that? Anyways, if you're patient, you're in
     for one hell of a ride.
     P.S. Comment please!
***** Shroud *****
Thursday, September 29, 2011
(03:07:12 PM PST GMT-8)
A flash of distorted colors lit up the screen before fading to a solid blue. It
takes several seconds, along with some whirring coming from within the device,
but the screen eventually comes to. The camera view seemed to tumble before it
settled at a slight upward angle, pointing across the room towards a silhouette
of an older woman, possibly middle aged. She sat comfortably on a mid-century
loveseat, legs crossed properly, with a note pad placed on her thigh. Despite
the lack of features, it was easy to tell she was dressed accordingly in some
sort of buisness suit; her hair shoulder length, straight, and lacking any sort
of individuality.
Even her voice was a tad bit too bland, if not almost robotic. “I want you to
have this camera. You can use it to log your thoughts throughout the day.” The
woman was obviously not alone as a soft sigh was let out just next to the
camera. The woman's body language stiffened, appearing irritated with the
other's non-verbal complaint. “This is a tool, dear. Not a homework assignment.
If it makes you any happier, you can also use it for whatever you wish to
record, however on one condition. I need to ask you to just sit down and record
your thoughts and feelings at least once a week. Just talk about your day or
your week, your worries, your accomplishments, anything.”
The room's climate was very thick and stuffy. Despite a fire burning in the
side of the room, the ambience felt cold, apathetic, and just unwelcoming all
together. The person who the woman was talking to remained quiet. The only
sound that was made was cloth sliding against leather as they crossed their
legs and arms, allowing a brown boot to appear in the camera frame. The
silhouette sighed, tilting her head slightly to appear more warming; even with
the attempt, it didn't change much.
“Roseanna, you can give me some sort of input, you know? An ‘okay Ms. White’,
or a ‘yes this is cool’, or a ‘no I dislike this.’ Something. We're here for
you.”
My voice spoke softly, almost as a whisper. “Alright, fine, I'll give it a
try...” I stopped a second before continuing, allowing my voice to build
confidence. “and please call me Rosy. I told you about this already.” With a
last remark, I turned the camcorder off. I had only wanted to test it out.
[END OF TRANSMISSION]
 
The woman, Ms. White, silently nodded. Obviously ignoring my complaint. “Let's
talk about what happened last week.”
I didn’t look up at her from the camcorder or respond.
Ms. White pressed on. “How has Michael's death affected you?”
“It hasn't.”
My therapist glanced down at her notepad, using it as reference. “That's not
what you said last week, the day after it happened. You kept saying that you
felt guilty. Why is that?”
I took a second, carefully placing my thoughts in order, before looking up and
stating: “Because even though he was a bastard, he didn’t deserve to go like
that. No one should.”
Ms. White nodded, pleased with the response, almost as though it confirmed her
hypothesis. She glanced down, scribbling notes as she said: “And does this
remorse for Michael Hain come from your friend’s history with her mother’s
abuse?”  
Memories of two little girls, a blonde and a brunette, running down the street,
flashed through my mind. The brunette’s pigtails wiped her face and she spun
around to see if her friend was close behind. The blonde girl, with tears
rolling down her bruised cheeks, grabbed her hand, assuring her friend that she
was there. That blonde friend was Jenny, my childhood best friend. Jenny never
had a stereotypical, loving, american nuclear family that you would see on TV
or in movies. Sure, her and her family lived on the nicer side of town, but
that didn’t change anything. Behind closed doors, Jenny’s father would abuse
her mother, who in turn abused her. Just because you have money, doesn’t mean
you have happiness. Money doesn’t equal shit but new toys and nice cars.
“Partially.” I admitted. Anyways, back to Michael Hain. Despite having an
abusive family, Jenny didn’t seem to fall far from the family tree. Hain didn’t
have the greatest family either. It was never clear if they were abusing him or
not, but he sure as hell mistreated Jenny. Michael never laid a hand on her,
but instead, he would mentally abuse Jenny. No matter how gorgeous she looked,
or how well she was doing, Hain always had to be the better partner. He put her
down, constantly. I never understood why she ever stayed a year with that
fucker, even if it was good sex. Still, no matter how bad of a person he was,
he didn’t deserve to die. One week ago today, Hain was found dead at his house
with multiple stab wounds. Rumor has it that his mother was the one who killed
him. She might have been overly distressed from her husband’s sudden
disappearance a month ago and blamed it on Michael. It isn’t for sure, but it
definitely is suspicious. The evidence just proves that he was killed by a
female, around 5’4, and a size 6 ½ shoe size. It was a stretch, but without a
solid alibi, Hain’s mother is the only prime suspect at this moment.
“How is your friendship with Jenny, at the moment.” Ms. White asked, pulling me
back to reality.
“Well,” I sighed. “She still isn’t talking to me. We might have had a falling
out over a year ago, but I know she’s taking this hard. I tried to comfort her,
but she didn’t want  anything to do with me.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
What kind of a question is that? “Frustrated, obviously. I’m trying to be a
good friend and be there for her like she was there for me when my mom died,
but she’s too fucking prideful to accept any help from me.”
“Roseanna-”
 “Rosy.”
Ms. White sighed, uncrossing her legs. “ Rosy , please do watch your language.”
I remained quiet, turning away from her gaze to avoid any kind of response.
“Alright, well, I think we will stop there.” Placing the notepad on the coffee
table that accompanied the loveseat, my therapist stood up to bid farewell. I
followed her lead to the door where she held it open for me, reminding me:
“I’ll see you next week. I expect you to use that tool I gave you, Roseanna. It
will help, I promise.”
I passed her and entered the hallway of the office building, waving as I
departed. “Of course,  Janice .” I didn’t even have to turn around to know that
her face contorted into an awful frown, I could just feel her eyes glare down
my back.    
It was pointless to act like that to her, I know, but it made me feel some sort
of achievement. With the most recent months of my life taking a hard loss, it
felt nice to have some sort of control. My dad sent me to her for a reason, but
it's so difficult to compromise when she's that ignorant. Although, It was nice
to open up every now and then to someone who didn't really have a significant
role in my life.
At least some good came out of the past few months, and he so happily greeted
me as I walked into my house. I bent down and vigorously rubbed my German
Shepherd’s back, talking to him as though he was a baby. Well, then again, he
was. He was my baby.
“Hi, Zim, hi baby!” I cooed, now rubbing his belly. Zim excitedly scratched the
air before suddenly jolting back onto his feet to run further into the house.
“Who are you looking for, boy? Are you looking for dad?” I followed him down
the hall to my dad's office, aka the kitchen table. Stacks of paper and books
covered the table almostly completely. The only area barren of any paperwork
was where my father's head lay, using his wrapped arms as a pillow. Poor guy,
ever since my mom passed away back in April, he's indulged himself in his work.
Now with a single income, he has to work double time; and this area of town
isn't the most affordable.
I spun on my heel, attempting to retreat to my room as quietly as I could. I
was able to make it halfway up the stairs when a loud  creak  slid from under
my foot. God damn it, I should have remembered to avoid that stair. It's not
like it’s been there since I was six or anything.
“Rose? Is that you?” I heard my dad call from the kitchen.
I mentally scolded myself before returning down the stairs, “Yeah, it's just me
pop.” Knowing my dad, he's gonna wanna talk a little bit. Even though he's
hardly home, he still tries to be a parent; which is why he sent me to a
therapist after my mother passed away. My dad stretched and let out a loud yawn
as I entered the kitchen. “What's up daddy-o?”
“How was Ms. White?”
“Bitchy, as always.”
My dad sighed, “She doesn't help at all?”
Guilt twisted in my stomach, “No, she does. She even gave me this camera to
help ‘log my thoughts’.” I mocked.
I could see that this made my dad feel a little better, it made him feel like
he was still a good influence in my life. “A little cheesy, but hey, whatever
helps. Right?”
I nodded, taking a step back. “Right. I think I'm gonna head to bed and try and
sleep.”
My dad nodded, allowing another yawn to escape. “Alright, pumpkin. See you in
the morning.”
I didn't reply, just smiled and climbed the stairs. I knew he wasn't going to
be here in the morning, he never was. Who can blame him though? It was nearly a
two hour drive to Seattle, so in order to beat traffic, it required getting up
at ridiculous times in the morning. As I made myself comfortable in my bed, I
looked over to my night stand to turn off the light. Taking one last glance at
my family portrait, I switched the light off.
-------
Friday, September 30, 2011
(02:07:09 AM PST GMT-8)
The old sony camcorder whirred as I placed it on my night stand, turning the
LCD monitor around so it would face me. After adjusting the frame, I leaned
back against the wall and sighed. It was weird knowing that my every move was
being recorded. Because of it, I was overly aware of my voice, movements, and
facial expressions to the point where it made me self conscious. I don’t like
being filmed; or more so, I don’t like to see myself on the other side of a
camera. Maybe it’s because I’m too modest, or that I just don’t like myself?
Who knows.
“So, I had a dream. A weird one. The kind of dream where everything feels so
real, you can’t really tell if it’s a memory or not. I was standing in front of
a window to a house and I’m guessing it was Michael’s house due to the fact
that I saw him inside.” The wind howled from outside, pulling my attention away
for a split second. I watched as the moon-lit trees danced in the breeze.“I
think...I think I saw Michael die- well, I saw a tiny glimpse of it. And-” Out
of the corner of my eye, I saw that the recording screen froze.
“Shit.”
I reached over and picked up the camera and smacked it until the picture became
clear again. Piece of shit camera, if Ms. White expects me to keep doing this
stupid camera interview, she should at least give me something that works. I
held the device out, continuing where I left off. “I didn’t really see much,
everything happened so quickly. I can just remember watching him back against
the wall pleading to someone. I have never seen so much fear in a person’s
face. The person he was scared of was just barely out of my sight, so all there
was was this shadow that just towered over him.” I brought my knees up to my
chest, continuing to hold the device up, which made my arm begin to shake so I
placed the camera down on the bed and adjusted the angle.  
“Everything happened so fast…” I repeated. “Out of nowhere, Michael pulled out
a gun and just kept shooting. But the look on his face when the gun clicked, oh
my God. All the color from his face drained, in like, 0.2 seconds. I looked
away just in time, but I could still hear his screams.” Again, the camera
glitched. “Next thing you know, I’m staring down at this white blanket covered
in splattered blood over his lifeless body.”
I shook my head, pulling myself back into reality.
“I want to say that this was a normal nightmare. I want to forget it all, to be
honest; but it just felt way too real. I don’t know...maybe I’m more affected
by the stupid fuck’s death than I care to admit. I can only imagine what
Jenny’s going through...”
I picked the camera up, “Anyways, I think that’s enough Final Destination mumbo
jumbo for tonight. Goodnight.”
As the camcorder's view spun around, the recording malfunctioned once more. The
film ended on a stutter of a clip displaying the trees from the window.

[END OF TRANSMISSION]
***** The Nest *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“You’re in way over your head.”
I stood my ground in front of an orange dirt bike, my hands clutching onto the
handlebars with my foot acting as a doorstop for the front tire.
The over-confident rider laughed, slipping the matching colored helmet over his
head. “Oh come on, I’ve done this a thousand times before.” His big smile
shined through his shadowed face after he flicked the visor down. “It’s just a
wheelie.”
 “It’s just a 450 dirt bike that you haven’t ridden in years, Ronnie.” I
countered.
Ronnie shook his head, “How ‘bout this. If I do fall- which I won’t, you can
have my vinyl record player AND the original copy of Nirvana’s  Nevermind .”
My ears perked up, I’ve been asking Ronnie for that record player for ages now,
and he’s throwing in one of my favorite albums too? I slid over to the side,
“Deal.”
The 4 stroke roared as Ronnie kick started the engine, giving the throttle a
few revvings as a follow up. I shook my head at Ronnie, crossing my arms.
“You’re actually letting him do it?”
 Raven colored hair caught my attention in the corner of my eye. I turned my
head as my other friends, Parker and Lizzy, join my side to watch the jester of
our small group. “Well, he did make a compelling argument and made an offer I
couldn’t refuse.”
The engine’s howling paced down when the idle settled, allowing only soft
popping to escape the exhaust. Ronnie revved the engine one more time -
probably to show off - before pulling in the clutch, shifting down, and taking
off in a spray of mud. We all took a step back, allowing the pieces of earth to
fall before us.
“What the hell could he have bargained you for that you let him do something
stupid like this?” A simple smile eased in on my face at Parker’s remark. He
was right in a sense, I usually have a strong opinion with almost anything my
friends do and I stick to it. It’s not because my friends don’t know how to
make good decisions, I’m just over protective over them. I just don’t want to
see them get hurt.
We watched Ronnie follow the graveled trail that he made in the grass years
ago. The KTM guided him through the twists and turns effortlessly. Even though
it had been some time since Ronnie had even touched that bike, all of his
technique rushed back to him as soon as he took off. He shifted his position
back as he approached the straight away, preparing himself. As the back tire
completed the turn, the front launched into the air. Ronnie continued to
balance the bike up, keeping the throttle steady with his front fender kissing
the sky.
The three of us clapped and laughed, impressed that he was able to ride the
rear wheel with such ease. Ronnie turned his head and gave us a big smile,
turning his attention away. I immediately stopped clapping when I realized that
he missed his next turn and was now heading frame first into the fence. My
mouth opened, but the only sound that was heard was wood bursting and the
bike’s engine screaming as Ronnie was pulled off the throttle lever. Our feet
slammed against the gravel as we rushed over to the fallen jester.
“I’m good! I’m good!” Ronnie exclaimed. Just before we reached him, he jumped
to his feet and pulled the helmet off, revealing his gold and curly locks of
hair.
My palm made it’s way over to the back of his head. “Idiot!”
“You’re going to break your neck one of these days, Ronnie.” Lizzy’s black hair
swayed as she shook her head and crossed her arms.
Ronnie flinched, “Ow! See, you guys keep sayin’ that, but it still hasn’t
happen’ yet.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” Parker advised, helping Ronnie pat the dust off his
jacket. “Are you positive you’re not in any pain?”
“My shoulder’s just a lil’ tweaked.” Ronnie rolled his neck side to side,
massaging his shoulder blade. “No biggie.”
I crossed my arms. “Good, I hope it hurts.”  
“Come on, that wasn't even a lil’  bit cool?”
I didn't reply. Ronnie nudged my side, trying to get an answer out me while we
all walked back to his garage. If facial features could tell a story of a
single person, that grin would be his life’s novel. Nothing could ever get this
boy down. No matter what was thrown at him; or in this case, how hard he was
thrown, Ronnie always smiled in the face of misfortune.
 
Saturday, October 1, 2011
(10:25:12 PM PST GMT-8)
The air that surrounded our lounging bodies was thick and clouded as  Where Is
My Mind  by The Pixies gently played in the background. The vibrations from the
rhythm of the bass and drums alignment made the hairs on the back of my neck
stand up, while in each bending note of guitar made it sound like it was
weeping. Black Francis’s harmony completed the package, inspiring the
atmosphere as haunting and calm. Lizzy’s dark
maroon lips embraced the end of a toke while she took a long and hungered drag
of her personal choiced medicine, exhaling her mental demons. She took a glazed
glance at me, offering. I shook my head and passed it a long to Parker who
graciously accepted. This type of treatment wasn’t for me. I’m not too keen on
allowing anything alter my mental state, even if I can forget my problems for a
little bit.
“Isn’t your therapist going to see this?” Lizzy questioned, referring to my
recording camcorder.
I shrugged, “Shedid say I could record anything I wanted. She’ll just have to
deal with it.” I was actually planning on transferring the video onto my
computer so I didn’t have to deal with the questions, or shame-filled eyes from
my dad. I was having such a good time here with my friends. I wanted to keep
this memory alive years later when we’ve all grown up and moved away. Maybe on
a late night, when my husband and child are sleeping and I’m up remembering the
past. I’ll look to this video and smile at the family I had found in this dumpy
town when I was a rebellious seventeen year old. Just the four of us, kicking
ass, taking names and chilling in Ronnie’s parent's garage, otherwise known as
his room. We were a group of outsiders. We had the happy-go-lucky skater boy,
the soft spoken punk goth girl, the post-popular poet, and then there’s me.
“Little Roseanna...all grown up” Ronnie mock-sighed. Returning to his joint in
between talking.“but, she doesn’t partake. She’s just a poser.”
“Coming from the dipshit who just destroyed his own fence. I’d kick your ass
myself, but that would be child's play compared to what your parents will do to
you when they see your fantastic landing spot.”
Ronnie’s cheeks burned scarlet as he blinked several times. Before anyone else
could comment, Parker jumped in. “A single moment of misunderstanding is
sometimes so poisonous that it has the capability of creating a rip tide. It’s
times like these that you two should reminisce on all of your joyous memories
as friends.” We all stared at Parker with repressed smiles as we tried not to
laugh. His black curved eyes widened with bewilderment before realizing that
none of it was completely serious. Parker was the artist and the philosopher of
the group, so whenever he got a little high, anything he said would become a
poem or an idea of trying to understand life in a deeper meaning.
“If only someone would’ve given Jenny that advice.” Ronnie chuckled. His laugh
crashed against an atmosphere that fell painfully silent. My eyesight lowered
onto my knee-high brown boots as I played with the laces. I could feel
everyone’s gaze bear into my skin, I could feel their unanswered questions
hanging in the air. I could smell the aroma that seeped out of the joint and I
could feel the heat from the intense flames that swallowed the building. I
could hear Jenny calling me, but I dare not answer. I could feel the panic that
controlled me, the fear. It was only a prank, we didn’t mean for it to go that
far. It was an accident.
Lizzy cleared her throat, tearing me away from the stinging recollection. “Hey,
uh, do you mind driving me home Rosy?”
I nodded my head eagerly, “Yeah, sure.” My upper body shot out of the frame as
I nearly jumped to my feet. “I’ll see you guys later.” Lizzy mirrored my exit,
walking out of the camera frame completely and out of the garage. Ronnie and
Parker remained quiet until the sound of a car starting broke the silence.
 Static subtly began to buzz against the film.
Ronnie hastily looked over at Parker, “Was it really that bad? Rosy and Jenny’s
fight?” His voice was recorded scratchy and harsh in result of the distortion.
Parker scratched his short raven colored hair, “It wasn’t like that.”
“What happen’?”
It was clear as day that Parker was hesitant to answer. He sighed and looked
away, “It’s not my place to tell the story.”
 Ronnie’s body language swayed, appalled. He was probably confused and hurt
that no one would trust him with the information. “You knew Rosy the longest.
You were even friends with the both of them before they fell out. Can’t you
tell me anything?” Parker’s lips thinned as he pressed them together in
uncertainty. He thought for a second, carefully choosing his words. The static
appeared more thick, now creating a slight high pitched squeal.
“Rosy let her fear control her and because of it, ruined Jenny’s future.”
Parker finally revealed.
The squeal’s volume raised higher and higher, but before Ronnie could comment,
the distortion cleared as soon as I stormed back into the room.
“I forgot the camera.”
[END OF TRANSMISSION]
 
I didn’t speak a word when I hopped assertively back into my Jeep. Lizzy was
quietly waiting for me in the passenger seat and remained quiet as I shoved the
clutch down and the shifter into first gear. I knew that I was over-reacting, I
just can’t hold myself back sometimes. What happened between Jenny and I was
something I’m trying to forgive myself for and leave it in the past. My
childhood best friend hates me, is anyone going to get mad at me for not
wanting to be reminded of it? Sue me, I’m just trying to move forward. She
wants nothing to do with me, and I don’t want to think about it anymore.  
Lizzy’s hair fell slightly over the buzzed side of her head as I turned the
corner sharply. “Dumb question, but are you okay?” She questioned, swiping her
long hair back to it’s rightful place.
I avoided the question, redirecting it. “The  real  question of the day is, are
you?” I could tell that she became unsettled by the way she quickly licked her
lips slightly and her eyes darted away. “The only time you smoke weed is when
you want to forget something.” She didn’t say anything. The silence between us
began to become uncomfortable and awkward. It also raised alarm within my core.
As an attempt to lift the mood, I decided to play a song by  José González.
After I noticed Lizzy beginning to relax, I pursued the question further. “You
can trust me, you know? I’ll have your back until the end.”
Again, nothing. How bad can this be where she’s so scared that she won’t tell
me what’s going on? My mind began to race, recalling the most recent events in
hope of getting some sort of clue as to why she isn’t opening up to me right
now. School has been stressful on her, I know that. Is she just going through
another rough spot with her depression? After several all-nighters of
comforting and uplifting words, I managed to convince her to seek out
professional help. The last I heard, her grades were improving since she’s
returned. Despite my reluctance, my musing turned toward my insecurities.
“Will you not tell me because-”
“You’re not the one to blame.” Lizzy cut in.
My mouth shut mid-sentence, and I let out a breathe through my nose I didn’t
know I was holding. The Jeep vibrated loudly as the tires rode over the vacant
wooded bridge just over Rosner Creek. I was surprised that no one else was near
the bridge. This is usually a popular hangout spots for the younger generations
living in this town.
I took a quick glance at Lizzy. If it’s not me, but there is a person at fault,
then it had to be her ex boyfriend, Jace. They broke up probably three months
ago now, but every now and then he likes to harass Lizzy. “It’s him isn’t it? I
swear to god I’m going to-”
“I don’t know if it’s Jace or not.” Lizzy interrupted again, which honestly,
was beginning to piss me off. “I think it’s him, but I’m not completely sure.”
 We pulled into her driveway, and the closer we got to her garage, the brighter
my cab became as my headlights bounced off against the garage door. I offered a
water bottle when she erupted in a small coughing fit. With the indirect light
shining on her face, I could see the concern underneath her clear pale skin. My
voice lowered with heed, “What do you mean you’re not sure it’s him? What is he
doing?”
“There will be times where I’m just minding my own business, and I will see
this person from afar just standing there...watching me.”
“Someone?”
“A man, a bald man, I think. It’s so hard to tell. He’s always wearing this
black business suit.”
I wanted to laugh, a suit? What is he gonna do, come to your door and ask if
you’ve accepted Jesus into your heart? “And you’re sure it’s not Jace?”
 Lizzy shook her head, I watched her eyes fill with fear. “I said I’m not sure.
I’ve only seen him every now and then these past few weeks.”
I want to believe that the man watching her was Jace, this way it would be
easy. However, this wasn’t the case. Lizzy had fallen head over heals with that
prick, so it’s safe to say that she had nearly memorized his figure and
features. I’m sure if she ever saw him across the street, she would know right
away. Besides, Jace is reckless and an idiot. I can’t ever see him having the
patience to just stand across the street to give Lizzy some goosebumps. I can’t
tell her that though, what kind of a friend would I be? Lizzy’s is unsettled to
the core at this moment and she wants to hear a problem with an easy solution.
“Honestly, it’s probably Jace. It’s just a new way he’s found to give you hell
and you shouldn’t put up with that shit. I think I remember someone telling me
he shaved his head not too long ago, too.”
Lizzy’s dark colored eyes lit up, “Did he?”
“Well, this is going to stop. Next time he gets anywhere near you, you call
me.” A smug grin spread across my face and my green eyes flickered with
confidence. “I can finally put these MMA classes to use.”
Lizzy smiled, imagining her abuser getting his ass handed to him by a brunette
just short of 5’7. “I’d love to see that.”
“You have my number.” My eyebrow raised cockily. I playfully smacked Lizzy’s
arm as she jumped out of the car. “Love ya bud.”
The drive home was quiet. I didn’t bother to play any music, my mind was to
preoccupied to enjoy anything. I’m worried about the person watching my friend.
There’s a strong possibility that the creep is Jace, trying to get into her
mind again; but there’s also a chance that it isn’t.
Chapter End Notes
     I know, another slow chapter, but trust me when I say this this
     chapter is very important. There is some key information in the form
     of hints, and some quite bluntly. I've been putting in a lot of
     symbolism and some metaphors, and I can't wait to see if anyone picks
     up on them. Again, thank you for reading. Let me know your thoughts
     on it!
***** Lucid *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Chapter Three: Lucid
 
Perspiration dripped down the side of my temple as my vision zeroed in on my
objective. I was so close. If I made a proper move now, I had a good chance of
getting out alive. If this fails, I’m done for. My eyes met my opponent’s,
narrowing as I licked my lips and made my move as fast as I could. I cursed
under my breath and tightened my fists when it failed. My heart began to race
and I looked up and down frantically. I couldn’t move, this was it, he was
going to win. I held my breath and waited for his response. My opponent smirked
and tilted his head at me; he was prolonging the inevitable, maybe to give me
the impression that I had a chance. But there was nowhere to run, nowhere to
hide, and I was out of options. He was coming after me, my own blood.
 
“Don’t do this.” I  whispered.
 My brother, Liam, rose his eyebrows, as his hazel brown eyes looked down upon
me with false empathy. “B4.”
 
My teeth grit together, “Sink.” My palm slammed against the table, “I hate this
stupid game! I know you cheated!” I growled. Liam drew his lower lip in between
his teeth, holding back a snicker, when a security guard approached me and told
me to keep it down or leave. I apologized and resumed my glare at Liam after
the guard took his leave, “Shut up. This is your fault.”
“How is it my fault?” Liam laughed, picking up all the pieces from the board
game. “ You just suck. You have horrible strategy. See, your problem is is that
you always run head first into everything and don’t think.”
 
“Eat a dick Liam. I have strategy skills. I didn't even want to play
Battleship. ” I huffed, reaching behind me to put on my camouflaged jacket.
 
The gray walls that surrounded the visitor’s room dripped with dread. The
atmosphere felt cold and bleak, despite the motive of this room to be a safe
place for visitors to see their imprisoned loved ones. I could feel the ray of
light shine on my arm through the only window in the room  —  probably the only
window in the entire side of the building. However, even with that broad ray of
sunshine, this wasn't a very joyous and heartfelt setting.
Liam cleared his throat, commenting on my outfit. “Where are you off to? A
war?” I'm guessing that my expression revealed the confusion about his remark,
because he began to explain what he meant by it. “Well, let's see. Not only are
you wearing a camouflaged jacket, your hair is up in a ponytail, and your boots
are ridiculous. I mean, they reach to your knees. What's the purpose of that?”
I could feel my cheeks threaten to turn crimson, but I withheld the influence,
and replied, “If there's anyone who looks like they’re  going through a war,
it’s you.” I leaned over the table and rested my chin on the palm of my hand.
“Nice shiner you got there, Fight Club. How did you get that?” Liam's lips
thinned and his eyes darted away. He was hoping I wouldn't notice, but how
could I not?
The dark circles under his eyes was accompanied by a rather large black bruise
that kissed his cheek bone, turning his skin surrounding it yellow. Before all
of this, I used to constantly hear that Liam and I were spitting images of our
parents. My brother gained the same gingered colored hair and strength from my
dad, he could even grow a hefty beard like him. I was lucky enough to take
after my mom in the waist size department; I may look slim, but strength is not
out of the question. My hair was long, brown and straight like hers, but not so
dark. There was still plenty of red swimming in these locks. The main
difference we both share that sets us apart from our parents is our eyes; I
take after our father’s green eyes while my brother gains the hazel from our
mother. Returning back to the present, Liam just doesn’t look like himself
anymore. Prison has not welcomed him well since he was admitted over a year
ago. His once long and lively apricot colored hair that he usually wore in a
pony tail, was now short and darkened with oil  —  how long has it been since
he’s showered? His eyes are now dark with apprehension, losing that spark that
this family so proudly wears. He even looks like he’s lost a good amount of
weight.
“You know me,” Liam shrugged. “Some asshole called me over to his cell for some
‘company’, and I told him I was too tired after screwing his mom.”
A snicker escaped my lips, “Once a trouble maker, always a trouble maker, huh?”
“A true McKinley never holds back their thoughts. Even if the comment gets you
punched repeatedly on the ground and toilet service for a week…” He trailed
off. Liam's head visibly  began to slowly turn away before he jerked back
forward, sending his pointed finger at me. “Be smart and don't follow your big
brother's footsteps.”
“Like you're such a bad criminal. You got caught selling weed to an undercover
cop. Great strategy skills there, by the way.”
Liam’s nostrils flared. “You're no perfect child either, princess. It must have
felt great when mom picked you up from your sleepover at the sheriff's station.
What did you do again? Tag the side of a building on a popular street in
downtown Seattle. Don't talk to me about strategy.”
My hands curled up into fists against the cold steel table. “Actually, it felt
fucking great knowing that my little art project put mom in the situation that
got her murdered.”
Liam's eyes widened slightly, taken aback. “Rosy, no. We are not playing the
game of which sibling has the worst sob story. What happened wasn't your
fault.”
“Pulling the trigger to the gun that pierced her head, no, that wasn't me.
Leading her down 3rd Street because of a stupid fight, yeah, that's my fault.”
 
“Rosy, you need to let i-”
 
“I saw her die, Liam.” I said sternly. My voice was beginning to shake. “Before
it even happened.  I had a dream she died. Then, three nights later, guess
what? She’s dead.” My head tilted slightly, causing my side bangs to fall
slightly over my left eye. Out of tension and habit, my hand immediately swiped
it back.
Liam took in a breath, “You did not legitimately see her die. You told me that
all you saw was a gun, the woman who was being robbed, and the sound of a woman
screaming. How the hell could you predict that mom, of all people, was the
person catching a bullet?”
 
I crossed my arms and leaned back into my chair. “I’m clever, I should have put
two and two together.”
Before Liam could add on another objection, the clock began to rang and the
security guard announced, “Okay, everybody. Visiting hours are over. Please
quietly say goodbye to your loved ones and exit the building.” As if in
synchronization, all of the visitors I accompanied stood up to bid farewell.
Liam and I were now the only two still remaining in our seats. There was a few
seconds of silence between us as we both watched the other visitors hug and
kiss their family members and friends. One by one, as they began to leave, I
noticed tears streaming down many of their faces as they departed.
Liam scratched the back of his head nervously and directed his gaze at me. “Oh,
come on. Don’t let it end like this.” I remained quiet, keeping my eyes on the
others and off of Liam and the security guard ushering the people out. He
sighed, “You’re really going to make me get up first, aren’t you? Fine.” Liam
pushed himself up from the table. His arms opened up as an invitation, but his
expression revealed how irritated he is, being the first one to act sappy. I
gave Liam a quick glance before mirroring his sigh in defeat. I stood up, and
walked into his open arms.
 
“I love you, asshat.” Liam mumbled.
 
“Love you too, shitface.” I patted my brother’s back, bidding him goodbye, just
before leaving the visitors hall. I remember, not too long ago actually,
dreading ever coming here. These hallways are haunted by the painful memories
of my mother crying every time she saw him. I could remember seeing her tear up
entering these halls to visit her baby boy who was locked up; and I could
remember her leaving, furious, balling her eyes out from the shame and burden
of what her son had become. After the incident on 3rd and Yesler, after my mom
died, my brother and I have grown a lot closer. As much as I don’t care to
admit, I actually look forward to visiting him.
As I left the prison, I pulled out my phone and turned it back on. The screen
lit up right away and was greeted by small droplets of water that fell flat
onto it’s surface. I pulled up my hood over my head, and slid my phone into my
jacket’s pocket to protect it from the rain. I walked through the thin layer of
fog, feeling light rain prickle against my skin. When I reached my Jeep, I
simultaneously pulled myself up into the driver’s seat and retrieved my phone.
I had about seven new texts messages; no, not from all different people, I’m
not popular, remember? Most of them were from Ronnie and Parker trying to set
up a day to go hiking, one from Lizzy asking if she could sleep over because
her parents are out of town, and one from my dad telling me to get A&W on the
way home before they closed. I replied to all of the messages and then drove
off.
Not too many people can say that they like where they are living, especially if
they’re teenagers living in Washington. Most of my peers hate how cold and
gloomy the weather constantly is, and many of them plan on going to school
abroad; California Universities are usually the top pick. Personally, I love
where I live. Maybe because it's all I know, since I've only traveled out of
the state when I was a baby. There's just something comforting about the
blanket of trees coating the landscape. I live in Lokni, Washington, the small
town hidden between three forest mountains. The name Lokni means ‘rain falling
through a small crack in the roof’, fitting perfectly with the location of my
town. Not too many people know about our town, being as though every road to
pass the mountains are tight canyons, so it's rare when we come across a
tourist. Even though we have our own lake and creeks, tourists usually prefer
the bigger cities that surround us.
I made my visit to A&W quick, luckily my dad and I usually get the same thing
every time we go there. I juggled the food carefully as I made my way through
the dimly lit parking lot, nearly spilling the root beer floats with each step.
When the food was placed down on my seat, I wanted to pat myself on the back
for not losing any of it before reaching my car. Now driving home without
flinging the french fries all over the carpet, that was new goal. When I
strapped the two meals down against the seat, I noticed something hiding under
seat that glistened slightly against the indirect gleam from the street lights.
My hand blindly reached under the seat and clutched onto something cold and
metallic. It was Lizzy’s lighter, I realized, when I pulled the object back
out. She must have dropped it when I was dropping her off at home a few days
ago. My fingers slid against the smooth red coating, turning the lighter
around. I chuckled to myself, the lighter was modeled after a fire
extinguisher. How ironic, but fitting, especially for someone like Lizzy.  
A loud thump that came from within the dumpster near me caused me to flinch,
allowing the lighter to slip from my hands. The red lighter slammed against the
ground and rolled downwards towards to the dumpster until it was stopped by the
wheels. I looked around the parking lot to see if there was anyone around who
saw me jump before stepping forward to retrieve the lighter. As I approached
the dumpster, I began to perceive the noise of nails scratching rapidly against
the frame. I held my breath, and stopped, listening to the noise.
 
Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch.
Scratch, scratch.
 
....
 
Sccrraaattttcc- scratch, scratch, scratch.
 
My boots scraped against the gravel as I walked over to the dumpster. The
dumpster was old, rusty, had swarms of flies buzzing around it, and overall
just smelled foul. Actually, it smelled worse than foul. It smelled worse than
any kind of smell old, moldy food could expel. The smell that protrude from the
trash was nauseating, burning my nostrils with each breath I took. At that
moment is when I noticed the faint drips of blood leading down from the cover.
Something’s not right. My fingers slid underneath the edge of the dumpster lid.
When I lifted the cover, my vision was taken over by the color black. Frantic
wings flapped against my face, forcing a gasp to escape my lungs. My body
jumped back, allowing a Raven to fly into the dark cloudy night.
I took a step back forward and grit my teeth together, “You fucking shit sack
of wings-” I hurled over and gagged as the stench rose from it’s contents. The
smell hit me like a fucking truck. My fingers squeezed my nose together as I
reached over for the cover. I visibly gagged once more when my eyes laid upon
what was inside, slamming the cover shut. At the bottom of the barrel, lay dead
a half-eaten Raven. The decomposing Raven remained twisted in a position as if
it was trying to fight. It’s face was mauled and one eyeball was poking out of
it’s socket slightly. The worst part, was the maggots that inhabited the
remaining flesh of the bird’s abdomen. I quickly grabbed the lighter and
started my way back to the Jeep, turning my head back to the dumpster.
 
“It’s a trash can, stop staring at it like it’s going to lunge out at you.”
 
My feet stopped abruptly, snapping my attention forward. A woman who looked
about my age stood casually next to my car. She wore a dark crimson hoodie that
shielded her face along with old ragged jeans. Underneath her hood, I could see
messy peach colored hair that hung just above her shoulders. Her hair was in
desperate need of a combing. I was just about to play off this woman as a
random civilian, a bystander, before she pulled her hood off. The woman’s face
was pale with dark circles under her blank eyes, she looked sick and – oh my
God.
 
“Jenny.”
 
My old friend smiled weakly, “I know it’s a bit cliche to say, but you look
like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
 
I feel like I’m staring at one right now. “There was- uh. This R...Raven in the
trash- dumpster. And uh….you know what? Nevermind.” Jenny looked a bit tired–
no,  exhausted . I could tell it’s been days since she’s had a proper night of
sleep.  Maybe even a proper meal, too. Her jaw line used to be round with an
undefined chin; now her face looked thin and sharp to the point. Those blue
eyes filled with fire and confidence had faded into a gray blank stare. Jenny
didn’t just look depressed, she looked sick. I softened my expression. “You
look good.”
“Don’t lie. I know I don’t look my best.”
“I didn’t lie.”
Jenny raised her unmaintained eyebrows at me, “You bite your lips a lot when
you lie.” I didn’t even realize that I was doing that. It shouldn’t surprise me
though, we’ve known each other since kindergarden. “Anyways, my life has just
become a shit storm. I can’t sleep, I don’t have any kind of enthusiasm for
anything anymore. I just keep making really fucked up decisions. I feel like
I’m losing myself.” She paused, looking me over. I noticed something flashed in
her eyes, reminiscence, maybe? “But you can probably tell just by looking at
me. Which is why I was looking into some outside help….from someone I can
trust, you know?”
My eyes widened in surprise. It’s been over a year since we’ve had a
conversation without arguing. My mind can’t help but wonder what possessed her
to come to me for help. “I’m sorry, but why now? And how did you even find me.”
Jenny snorted, “Don’t flatter yourself, honey. I was planning on calling you
sometime soon and I just so happened to come here to eat. And what does it
matter why I ask now? If you don’t want to help me, fine. I’ll take care of
myself.” She turned to walk away. “Just like I’ve always done.”
I grabbed her arm, slightly shocked at how cold to the touch she felt, and
said, “I never said I wouldn’t help you. I just…” And that’s when I realized
it. It wasn’t because she truly missed me, or needed my help specifically. No,
it was the same old ulterior motive ever since we entered high school together.
“Your so called ‘friends’ abandoned you again, didn’t they?”
Jenny looked away, pulling her arm back. She never agreed nor denied it, but
quietly said, “You’re all I’ve truly got.” I wanted to laugh, after all this
time? My hands settled on my hips as I paced back and forth in small steps. My
body shivered slightly as the wind began to pick up. Jenny continued on, “I
know I’ve shined you on multiple times, I still haven’t fully gotten over that
night of the fire, but I- I need you now. You’ve always been such a good friend
to me while I was making pretty bad decisions and I just need that right now.”
Before I could reply, my phone rang. It was Lizzy, I noticed. “Give me a quick
second,” I told Jenny briefly before answering the phone. “Hey, can I call you
back in just a bit? Something important is going on right now.”
 
“He-he’s here. He’s in my house!”  I heard Lizzy whisper on the other end of
the line.
My eyes widened, “What? How?”
She began to sob silently, her voice trembling with fear. “What do I do? I’m
h...hiding in the clos...et downstairs.”
 
My eyes shifted over to Jenny in a hard expression. I licked my lips,
contemplating in my head my choices. I exhaled quickly and made my decision.
“Call the police. I’m on my way over.” I could see the hurt flash over Jenny’s
expression. “Call me back right after you do, okay?”
Lizzy hesitantly agreed, ending the call.
“Listen, my friend’s in trouble. I’ll...see you at school tomorrow and we can
talk, alright?” I said, rushing over to the driver’s seat.
Jenny slowly walked over to my window. Her expression hardened and her eyes
returned back to a blank state. “You’re never going to put me first, are you?”
I pushed in the clutch and started the engine. “Not until the day you do the
same for me.” I backed out of the parking space and raced over to the street,
my tires slipping against the wet pavement. My eyes darted to my rear view
mirror as I exited the parking lot, watching Jenny pull her hood back up and
begin to walk away. As I drove, my mind kept returning to Jenny's reappearance
and to those two Ravens. I didn’t want to imagine the process and time that
lead the other bird to cannibalistic tendencies, but it wouldn’t leave my
memory.  It just didn’t sit well with me. With the bird, Jenny, and now Lizzy,
this just all seemed like some lucid dream.  
Chapter End Notes
     I'm actually very upset that I waited so long to update, but life
     happened. Long story short: I visited Washington recently (gaining
     tons of inspiration and insight), dealt with my job which resulted in
     me finding a new one job (yay for me!), and since it's close to the
     end of the semester, school has been a set back as well.
     Anyways.
     This chapter was actually supposed to be a good amount longer, but
     since it's been over a month since my last update and this chapter
     was already 7 pages, I decided to input a cliff hanger and just split
     this session up into two chapters. As you can tell, this is where all
     of the shit starts. Everything from here on out, is going to end bad.
     This is the part where I become excited to begin exploring the dark
     parts of my imagination in hopes that I will leave my readers
     bewildered and uncomfortable. So I hope a good amount of readers have
     gotten past the slow paced chapters.
     And as always, thank you for reading.
***** 3rd & Yesler *****
April 11, 2010
The smell of a soggy, soiled carpet battled for dominance against the smell of
fresh coffee within the atmosphere of the sheriff’s station in downtown
Seattle. My feet stumbled against the stained carpet as an officer escorted me
through the office with my arms handcuffed. The process was over, questioning
was done. I was in the clear. This whole use of handcuffs was unnecessary,
ridiculous, and humiliating; but that’s how he wanted it to be. He wanted me to
feel embarrassed and scared. He wanted me to ‘learn a lesson.’ The only lesson
that I’ve learned is that sometimes I can have the shittiest luck. Out of all
of the patrol cars that prowled the area I was in, it had to be from one of my
mom’s long time friends, Vincent Corbin.
 
Vincent guided my arm in front of him in a rather rough manner. He pointed to
the chair and stated: “Take a seat here. Your mother will be here to pick you
up soon.”
 
I remained quiet, causing the cold plastic chair to squeak when I rested my
weight against it in a rather aggressive motion. My eyes remained glued to the
floor, refusing to give the officer any kind of engagement to the conversation
like he expected me to. Out of habit, my hand made it’s way to my forehead to
swipe my bangs to the side. I visibly flinched when the palm of my hand brushed
against my freshly bruised cheek.
Vincent broke the silence between us with a sigh of defeat and tossed a box of
kleenex on top of my lap. “You’d best wipe the blood off your nose before your
mom sees it. Even though she would probably say that you’d deserve it, it’s not
a good look.” He cleared his throat and straightened his back, returning back
to his ‘bad cop’ side. “Next time you even think about pulling a stunt like
that again, you’ll receive something far worse than a little nosebleed. You
hear me?” I tried to remain quiet, I tried to hold back so that I wouldn’t make
the situation worse  — which was probably the best decision I’ve made tonight —
but it was just too much when Officer Dickhead continued to push my buttons and
said: “Are you deaf? I’m talking to you. What were you thinking running from an
officer?”
 
My glared eyes rose to meet his similar scowl, “I figured if you could lose
track of your head of hair, I had a chance.”
 
The officer shifted his weight uncomfortably, placing one hand on his hip and
the other to point at me sternly. “Listen up, pipsqueek. Your mother and I have
been friends since before you were even born. I am more than happy to throw
away that friendship to see how long you and that lesbian haircut of yours
lasts in juvie. So keep it up, please. Do me that favor.”
 
“Remind me again what kind of relationship — sorry, ‘friendship’, you two have?
You guys seem to spend a lot of late nights together.”
Before he could unload his wrath upon me, everyone’s attention shot towards the
entrance when the double doors slammed open. Two officers held tightly onto
each of a girl’s arms as she kicked and wiggled for freedom. She wasn’t in
handcuffs, but it was more than obvious that the two police officers had no
intention of letting her out of their sights. Vincent cursed under his breath
and shot a warning in my direction. “Don’t even think that we’re done here.”
My eyebrow raised in thought. The officer who was previously scolding me,
marched over to the girl who just arrived. Compared to his interactions with
me, his body language softened in a rather comforting manner. Was this another
one of his “friends”? If so, she was definitely not happy to see him. I also
noted how young she looked, despite appearing so mature. Judging by the way
that she carried herself, how she spoke to the officer, the fear hidden behind
her dark eyes, she was probably about my age. She reminded me of Snow White.
 Her face was softly pale, causing her black eye shadow and crimson lips to
stand out; making it the first thing one would notice. She wore her hair long,
tied up into a high ponytail with both of the sides buzzed off. I admired her
appearance, snapping back to reality when I realized the girl was making her
way over here.
Vincent now stood left behind in her trail, frustrated with the look of defeat
plastered on his face. The dark haired girl carried on in a fit of tears. She
was so wrapped into herself that she didn’t even notice my presence until she
was about five feet in front of me. She stopped abruptly and, quite literally,
snapped back into reality. First, she appeared surprised only to lower her
expression down into an aggravated glare. She ripped the chair next to me away
and dropped it right against the desk on the other side, sitting down with her
back facing toward me.
A few minutes pass of silence between us with an occasional sniffle from her.
Curiosity overtook my actions, and I commented:”Nice hair.”
She remained quiet.
My eyes narrowed  in frustration, attempting a conversation once more. “So, are
you here because you’re in trouble or are you another one of that bald-headed
bastard’s girlfriends?”
The girl simply snorted, disregarding my question. She replied with a question
of her own, “Are you the convict that punched my dad’s face?”
 
I blinked. Dad?
 
My head shook to the sides, I replied, “I’m not a convict, just a person in the
wrong place at the wrong time. Regardless of these handcuffs.” Seems like the
story of my life. “But, yeah. I did.”
 
“He deserved it. So...thanks.”
 
The conversation could have ended there, but I decided to continue it. “My
name’s Rosy. What about you?”
The raven haired girl turned around to face me. This close, I could see how red
and puffy her eyes were. She looked hesitant to speak, but seemed to overcome
the doubt. “Elizabeth, but call me Lizzy.”


The engine of my Jeep roared as I shifted through the gears with the gas pedal
floored. I raced passed traffic lights milliseconds after it turned red, still
managing to be careful to notice the absence of cars as I approached.  Nearly
every traffic law was broken as I raced to Lizzy’s house. A slight part of a me
was surprised that my car was never pulled over. I kept my breathing shallow
and calm to maintain concentration, but my heartbeat fluttered nevertheless. It
was difficult enough to corner every turn without losing too much speed or
crashing; but on top of that, the wind began to pick up. A big storm was
approaching, and nature reminded me of it every time I felt my car shift
slightly out of my control.
Lizzy bolted from her front door the moment she saw my headlights approaching
the house. Her hands were trembling and tears rolled down her face, but she was
okay, and that was what mattered the most. I wanted to let out a sigh of relief
when she told me that she hasn’t heard or seen the intruder since she called
the police, but that sigh was never released. There was still a chance that he
was still in there. I decided not to scare her with that possibility. Instead,
I suggested returning back into the house to avoid the rain that was beginning
to intertwine with the incessant wind. When Lizzy wasn’t looking, I quickly
retrieved my hunting knife from the glove compartment. She was a bit hesitant
to return to the house, but she felt safer next to me, she confessed.
I walked cautiously through Lizzy’s one story house as her hands hovered over
my arm as a way to keep me close. Despite feeling safer with my presence, she
kept insisting that we should wait outside for the police to arrive. There will
never be a day when I will admit to her that her suggestion was a safer
alternative, I’ll never admit my true motive. Even though I told Lizzy that her
ex-boyfriend was gone and that I was just trying to see where he came in from,
the truth was that I was truly hoping to encounter him. He deserved all the
pain that I would bring to him, just like the pain he had brought to my closest
friend.
The wind that howled softly in the background began to rise, causing the slight
pitter-patter of the rain to evolve into solid knocks that crashed against the
windows. My attention rose above my head when the lights began to flicker until
the inevitable darkness punched the lights out. A soft thud came from somewhere
in the house, presumably close to the kitchen. My gaze snapped to Lizzy.
 
“Where’s your dad’s guns?” I spoke with my voice low and cautious.
Lizzy’s eyes were filled with worry. “After I came back from the hospital, he
put several locks on his weapon casket. I can’t get in.”
 
I cursed under my breath.



“Shit.” My fingertips met with the warm liquid running down my nose. Lizzy,
noticing the unwelcomed crimson, reached for the tissue box on her father’s
desk and tossed it at me. I thanked her, patting down on the blood. Her head
tilted slightly as she looked over my nose. I could tell what she was thinking.
“Complimentary of your dad.” I confirmed.
Lizzy smiled weakly. “It could have been worse, trust me.” Her voice was
comforting, but I couldn’t help but notice that there was a hint of customary
behind that smile. Before I had the chance to address it, she changed the
subject. “So were you working on an art piece when he found you?”
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
Lizzy quickly added, “You tagged the side of a building, right? Were you
working on something or…?”
I scoffed. “If that was the case, at least I would have had a decent reason to
be there. Long story short: I was trying to save a longtime friendship by
looking after this particular friend at a party. She left me with one of her
party buddies. He was trying to impress me with his art work on that building,
and that’s when Mr. Authority shined his light on us. Obviously this guy had
experience running from the police because he was never found. I wasn’t so
lucky.”
 
“And that’s when you told my dad to ‘fuck off’ and nailed him in the face?”
 
More so because I was scared and punching is usually my initial reaction. But I
didn’t say that. I agreed anyways, “Exactly. Anyways, what about you? Why are
you here?”
 
As if reminding her of her current location, Lizzy’s eyes lowered back down as
she turned her head away in embarrassment. “I came out to my parents the other
night. Dad was angry, mom began to cry, so I figured that they would be happier
if I just left.”  
 
The conversation volume dialed down to zero when Lizzy took notice of what was
behind me. Without thinking, I turned my head. Officer Jackass prowled down the
walkway accompanied by the woman herself, my mom. I wanted to act tough, I
wanted to show that I didn't care, but that entire thought process flew out the
window when my lips let out a “God damn it.”
 
My mother stood before me with her arms crossed while Vincent took off my
handcuffs. Her dark brown hair was neatly pushed to the side, tied together by
a rubber band. “Don't damn God, you'll be praying to him once I'm done with
you.”
 
As an attempt to redeem my attitude, I rolled my eyes and replied: “Then I
guess I'll be praying to nothing.”
 
Vincent’s expression hardened, taking offense to that comment. While I took
notice of Lizzy’s slight smirk, my mom took charge before Vincent could begin
his rant. She yanked me out of the chair by my hand, “Let's go. Now.” She gave
her friend one last look and said, “Thank you again Vince, I owe you once
again,” before dragging me out of the police station.
 
It was an unusually cold night in Seattle. Despite being surrounded by humidity
given by the ocean, the temperature lowered to close to 30 degrees Fahrenheit.
I pulled my hood over as an attempt to shield myself from the chilling mist
that fell. The street we walked down was empty and quiet. The only salvation of
noise was the sound of traffic in the distance. The silence between myself and
my mother was a blessing, but it was only temporary. The longer she was quiet,
the more she strategically planned out her punishment for me at home. I didn't
want to start anything, I  really  didn't want to begin the argument; but I
knew if I wanted her to forgive me, I would have to open Pandora's Box now. If
she was truly my mother, then she would do the same thing as I do: completely
explode now so that when we got home, she could calm down.
 
I took a breath, “Look, it's not what you think-”
 
Just like tapping a crack on a window, my mom shattered and unrolled all of her
pent-up thoughts. She began with, “No, I think it's worse than what I think.” I
allowed her to vent  —  and for the most part, I deserved it. So I kept quiet.
Once we made it to the car, I stood right next to the door, waiting until she
realized she needed to unlock it. All in the meantime, I took one mental slap
after another.
“I didn’t raise you this way!”
“You’re turning into your brother!”
 “Why has God given me such difficult children!”
And the list goes on.



My tread was light and silent as I prowled through to the kitchen, holding my
hunting knife up and ready. The house shifted and creaked against the incessant
howling wind. Lizzy tiptoed close to my side, aware of every single sound. We
made our way to the kitchen, but there was nothing there. My body eased up, and
I lowered the knife. “Damn wind, it's messing with us,” I chuckled awkwardly.
 
“And the electricity.” Lizzy added quietly and looked down at her phone.
 
I leaned against the sink countertop. The only source of light came from the
window behind me. “It's fine, we’ll light up some candles while we wait for the
police.” Lizzy nodded her head in agreement, raising her head up at me. “It
shouldn't be too long — ”
 
“ — Rosy.” She cut in, her gaze slowly rising above my head as they widened
with fear. She whispered, “He's behind you.”
 
In the reflection of the painting across the kitchen, I watched a shadow emerge
upwards behind my silhouette. The shadow of a man towered over me, looking down
at us with his head tilted, and these…  things  that came from his back danced
in the wind. My heartbeat pounded against my chest as I felt a wave of fear
wash over me. The man was tall, impossibly tall, nearly nine foot impossibly
tall. Unless Elizabeth’s ex decided to buy stilts, this was a complete
stranger. A real threat. My body snapped around to face the man, but what my
gaze met was branches of a tree bouncing with the wind current.
 
“It's just a tree, Liz.” I sighed deeply, calming my beating heart. I mean….I
guess  that can be mistaken for a tall man; but even to myself, I couldn’t be
convinced.
 
“N-no! It's not the tree! He was just there.”
 
Before I could respond, my heart jumped to my throat when a sound came from the
living room. The window had just shattered.



Just as my mother broke open the cage of her raging emotions, I had done the
same when she screamed: “Why do you have to be like this! Why do you have to
fight authority all the time! If you have problems, talk to me! I have always
been there for you!”
 
“You’ve been always been there for me?!” I laughed. And I snapped, just like
that. Only in my case, I have not, nor will I ever get over this issue. These
pent up feelings has been brewing for a very long time. “Since when! The last
time I can remember you acting like an actual mother to me is when I was
fourteen! But once Liam left high school and got involved with that gang,
you’ve been absent from my life! You were busy trying so hard to keep that
leash on Liam tight!”
 
My mom took a step backwards as if I had just slapped her in the face. She
mumbled, “That’s not true…”
 
“The  hell it isn’t!” I screamed. “All those straight A’s I got in freshman and
sophomore year meant shit! You and dad were constantly worrying about Liam, you
forgot you even had a daughter!” I should be crying. These last few years, I
have felt neglected and alienated from my own family. With all of this buried
deep inside, only to be let out like right here and now, I should be balling.
But I’m not going to. Right now, the anger I feel towards her refuses to let
any other emotion show right now, other than rage.
 
My mother attempted to lower her hurt expressions to stern. “Your father and I
are doing the best we can. If you were a parent, you would under-”
 
I didn’t let her finish. “And that’s the worst part.” My voice lowered and I
began to smile. “You are doing your best. What a shame it is for me that all
your best goes towards my brother.” I turned away, beginning to storm down the
street. “I’m taking the bus to a friend’s. I’ll see you later.”
 
As I began to walk down, it only took a couple seconds for my mom to recollect
her thoughts and pick up that parental badge I slapped out her hands. “No you
are not. We are leaving together and going straight home.”
 
I ignored her, extending the distance between us.
 
“Rosanna McKinley! I’m not going to chase you down! I will leave without you!
Get over here now!” My mom threatened. Once she realized that I truly wasn’t
returning, she jogged down the street after me.



I pressed my index finger against my lips. Lizzy nodded in understanding,
continuing to trail behind me. I carefully walked into the living room. Once
again, the room was vacant, but covered in broken glass. My eyes narrowed when
I saw a stone brick lying within the glass.
 
Lizzy noticed the stone as well. She whispered, rubbing her arms for comfort.
“He’s still here.”
 
I placed my hand on her shoulder for reassurance. “He’s just trying to scare
you. Don’t let him.” My attention glided over to the glass cabinet next to
Lizzy. Behind the glass doors was a pistol showcased on a gold mantle. I
pointed at it, “Please tell me that works.”
 
She shook her head. “It hasn’t worked in a very long time. That was the first
pistol my dad bought when he was younger; it’s just an antique now.”
 
“Here.” I said, handing over my hunting knife to her. She could probably use it
more than me right now, even if it will only make her feel a fraction safer.



I was able to make it all the way down the intersection where 3rd Avenue met
Yesler Way. To my right, there was the bus platform I needed with a bus pulling
up to the curb. By how late it was, it was the last bus of the night, I
assumed. My attention was pulled away when my mom grabbed onto my jacket..
 
“I said you’re not leaving.” She growled.
 
I pulled my arm back. Before the argument could continue, our attention was
redirected to the small park across the street. The park was nearly pitch
black, the most I could see was a silhouette of a man and woman. They were
arguing, that much I could tell. It seemed as though the woman was trying to
walk away from him, but the man refused to let her leave. Despite my absent
knowledge of the identity of the couple, my mother seemed to know one of them.
“Oh my God, that’s Daryl and Ava.” She whispered.
 
I rose my eyebrows. I’ve heard about Ava and her problems through the years
from my mom. She was the stereotypical woman that got together with a ‘bad boy’
in her early reckless age, had a child with him, was abused by said husband,
and tries to move on. I looked back at the infamous couple, watching as Ava was
pressed against the tree aggressively. The more she struggled, the more violent
her ex-husband, Daryl, became. Someone needed to intervene, or Ava was going to
get hurt.
 
I looked to my mom and said: “He’s completely out of it. We need to help her.”
 
“I’ll call the police.” She replied, pulling out her phone.
 
“There isn’t time for that.” I quickly added, charging into the street.
“Rosy, hold on-”
“HEY!!!”
 
Daryl’s attention shot toward my direction, he didn’t look too happy that
someone interrupted his activity. His eyebrows furrowed, “What do you want
kid.”
 
My fists curled at my sides, continuing my stride into the park. “Who the fuck
do you think you are! Don’t touch her like that!”
 
He scoffed and turned his head away from me. He slurred. “Run alon’ lil’ girl.
This ain’t your problem.”
 
Little girl? I grabbed onto his leather jacket and pulled. “Don’t fucking
ignore me, asshole.”
 
Daryl immediately shoved my hand away, now stomping towards me as I backed up,
cracking his knuckles. “Alright! You got your wish! C’mere and get your ass
whooping.”
 
I felt my mother’s hand grab onto my shoulder, pushing herself off of me,
towards Daryl. “You’re not going to touch her. Now, calm down.”
 
Daryl laughed, “And now you? Fuck, what’s next?”
 
It’s felt like forever since I’ve seen that look on her face. Her expression
was a mix between that protective mother instinct and disgust of injustice.
 The last time I can remember seeing that expression was when my mom finally
caught this bully that would mess with me at school in the parking lot. It’s a
bit different in this case, there is a dangerous risk confronting this man. He
isn’t a child bully, he was an adult man who could really hurt someone. If
there was any sort of fear that she felt, it was hidden well. I caught myself
admiring my mom for her bravery, it was something that I’ve always strived to
have. I forced myself to snap out of my thoughts, and stumbled to pull out my
phone and dial 911. I tried to also listen in to my mother’s argument with
Daryl.
 
I listened as Daryl growled. “This ain’t your business, Julia.” He tightened
his grip on Ava’s arm.
“Well, I’m standing right here and I’m not leaving. She’s my friend.” My mom
replied. “Ava, what is he bothering you about this time?”
 
While keeping a close eye on the group, I addressed the emergency operator on
the phone and answered her questions. For some reason, as I watched them, I
kept getting a slight feeling of deja vu. I quickly explained the situation and
made sure to make a point that this man was incoherent and erratic. I watched
as my mom put a hand on Ava’s shoulder and gently began to pull her away from
Daryl. What ever she was saying to them, it was calming them both down.
 
The emergency dispatcher pulled my attention away. “And what is your location
at this time, miss?”
 
I shot a glance at the sheriff’s station down the block, hoping to see Vincent
or any officer walk out. “We’re on 3rd and Yesler, just down the street from
King County Sheriff’s Office.”
 
“Okay, hold tight miss. I just alerted the nearest officer in your location.
He’s-.”
 
“Are you fuckin’ with me?” I heard Daryl shout. My eyes darted back to into the
park, noticing a new pair of eyes on me. Daryl’s attention was fully aware of
what I was currently doing.  “You don’ wanna just talk, you’re tryin’ to trick
me! I see your bratty kid on the phone over there with the pigs!”
 
The hand that held my cellphone lowered to my side. I watched as my mom slowly
began to approach him with her hands slightly raised. She calmly tried to
decrease his tension. “Daryl, that’s not what-” But he wasn’t listening.



“-ROSY BEHIND YOU!”
 
Without a second thought, I lowered myself down just enough to feel a small
gust of wind blow right over my shoulder. I spun on my heel to turn my body
completely around just in time to catch a glint of light flicker off a silver
blade. My instincts took over. Just like the warm ups I do with my trainer, I
leaned my body to the side, dodging the knife, and landed a single punch to the
opponent’s jaw line. They stumbled backwards into the moonlight that came from
the broken window. From this distance, I could take a good and safe look at who
just attacked me.
 
This person stood at maybe a couple inches taller than my 5’7”, already
confirming that this wasn’t the tall man looking into the house through the
kitchen window. They wore what looked like a Harlequin-Jester mask. With the
primary color being white, the main design revolved around the eyes accompanied
by black lips. This was pretty plain compared to a normal jester mask. I could
almost appreciate the simplicity of the eye design with how only four teardrop
strokes dripped down from each eye. The mask looked homemade, judging by how
jagged and messy looking the design looked.
 
I broke the silence between us, after noticing that I wasn’t the only person
looking over my opponent. “Why are you here?” I asked. The intruder remained
quiet, so I asked another question. “You aren’t a burglar because you knew
someone was home. So are you a friend of Jace and just doing his dirty work?”
Again, silence. Lizzy took out my hunting knife, holding it up with a,
surprisingly, steady hand, given her situation. I pursed my lips together about
to ask another question, when the intruder made a break for it. They made it
maybe about a foot away before I grabbed onto their hoodie and slammed them
against the wall, knocking the knife out of their hand.



Like a deer in headlights, I stood still and watched as Daryl approached me
baring his teeth and slurring any insult he could growl. The closer he got, the
more urgency I felt to move. When I finally took a single step back, my mother
grabbed onto his shoulder and pushed him to the side. “You leave her out of
this.” She warned, placing herself in front of myself and Ava.  
 
Daryl stumbled, nearly falling to the ground. “You fucking bitch!” He snarled
and pulled a pistol from his coat. My eyes widened as I felt my heart began to
pound against my chest. Ava slowly backed up and gripped onto my jacket.  He
cocked it and aimed it in my mom’s direction, “Move. Now.”



Pinning the intruder against the wall, I leaned my face in close and glared
into the mask. A black thin layer of sheet covered the inside of it, making it
impossible to see their eyes unless a direct light was shone on it. Behind my
back, I could hear Lizzy walk over to us fighting a small coughing fit. I
lowered my head slightly and glared at the intruder. Lowering my voice down to
a give a rough warning. “Stay the fuck away from here and away from Elizabeth,
you hear me?” Even with this heed of warning, I needed a back up. I needed to
know who this person was in case they came back. My hand gripped onto the mask
just as illumination from a lightning bolt lit up the house. For a split
second, I caught a small glimpse of their eyes. I couldn’t pinpoint any other
details other than the eyes were wide with fear and looking outside to the
backyard. I shouldn’t have turned around, every instinct told me not to look,
but I did. I turned my head and was immediately shoved to the ground. The
intruder picked up the blade and charged at me. I began to shuffle backwards
into the living room, dodging the slices. When my back touched the wall, I had
nowhere else to go. I looked up at the intruder still prowling towards me with
the knife up and ready. Lizzy took this opportunity and slammed a table lamp
over their head.



My mom slowly began to walk over to Daryl with her arms in the air. “It’s okay
Daryl, just put the gun down.” Daryl remained stiff, the pistol shaking in his
hands. He didn’t want to shoot anyone. He was just incoherent and probably
scared. She continued to walk over to him, whispering comforting words before
she was close enough to grab onto the gun. As soon as she touched the metal,
Daryl snapped out of his shock state and struggled.



Lizzy lunged at the intruder with my hunting knife only to have it knocked out
of her hand when the masked intruder landed a punch. She didn’t back down
though, she engaged in a struggle with them as she attempted to rip the blade
away.



I held my breath and I watched Daryl nearly fling my mother side to side trying
to shake her off as she clutched onto the pistol for dear life. I didn’t know
what to do, I felt like I was stuck in cement as I watched this happen in front
of me. The same feeling of deja vu increasing as the situation grew more
dangerous. Why was I feeling this?



I had to do something, I need to help. Lizzy didn’t know how to fight. Taking
the opportunity she gave me, I stood back up on my feet and looked for an
opening to help her.



In the corner of my eye, I could see two figures running out of the Sheriff’s
station. I let out a sigh of relief and thought that maybe it was Vincent
running to help. When my eyes shifted back over to the street, Daryl and my
mother were separated. He lifted the pistol up. That's when I realized why this
was familiar. I had a dream about a man shooting a woman. That wasn't a dream,
that was a premonition.



Red and blue lights seeped into the house, illuminating everything. Time was
running out and I took the only opening I could get. The intruder managed to
shove Lizzy hard away, creating space for themselves. My fist charged in and
made contact with their nose, causing them to fly out of the living room. The
sound of wood screeching snatched my attention away. Tuning my head, time
seemed to slow. I watched the glass cabinet lean over to fall down on top of
Lizzy’s body.



Time slowed down, complete silence overtook my hearing. My cell phone dropped
out of my hand, crashing into the ground, as well as my heart. My foot
instinctively stepped forward, charging towards my mom. Daryl turned his head
to the side and noticed my rush. His face became overwhelmed with defense and
fear, instinctively pulling the trigger. I felt the warm crimson splatter over
my face.  BANG!



Glass flew all across the living room, the sound completely shattering the
silence. As if I was rushing through a pond, gravity pulled me back and I
couldn’t push my body fast enough towards Lizzy. I felt an object crash against
my foot; Vincent’s prized pistol.



I wasn’t able to catch my mom as she fell to the ground. Daryl began to quiver,
he didn’t mean to shoot. He didn’t mean to pull the trigger, he kept repeating.
But none of that mattered. I held my mom in my arms, watching as the blood
began to slid down her forehead. Tears began to form in my eyes when I looked
up to watch as Daryl and Ava both running down the street. By the time those
two officers made it down here, the couple would be gone. I looked down at my
mother, and then back up to the running couple. What do I do…?



My teeth grinded together as I raised the pistol at the intruder. Their gaze
shot up, noticing the weapon as they stumbled to their feet. My finger curled
against the trigger, my eyes and eyebrows narrowing. The intruder didn’t take a
second thought and dashed towards the backdoor. This left me with a very
familiar notion. I turned to the fallen cabinet, and then back at the intruder
running out of the house. What do I do…?
I watched as the intruder dash through the backdoor and into the backyard. I
bit my lip and turned back to rush over to the cabinet. I stopped when I heard
Lizzy yell: “I’m okay! I’m good! I can get out fine!” I wanted to ask if she
was sure, but my question was answered when I saw her begin to crawl out. I
failed to notice the first time that the cabinet was at an angle, it landed on
foot ottoman which stopped it from completely landing on the ground. A strong
knock on the front door told it that that was my que. This was my second
chance. This time, I wasn’t going to let the person who hurt a loved one get
away without paying for it.   
I pushed back any thoughts or emotions, and allowed my body to act on it’s own.
I could hear the sound of my footsteps slamming against the wooden floor while
navigating to the wet soil from outside of her house, but I didn’t feel much.
My adrenaline took over my senses; all I could think about was chasing the
asshole who hurt my friend. I slid to a stop after making my way across the
backyard, unsure of where the masked stranger went to. The night was painfully
silent, no crickets, no sounds of civilization, even the wind and rain had
stopped. I listened to my surrounding so intensely, I thought I could even hear
the sound of my blood running in my ears.
 
SNAP.
 
My head shot toward the direction of the sound. I was already running before I
even realized it, making my way into the backwoods. The deeper I ran into the
woods, the more my thoughts began to drift. What if he’s luring me in? Is this
a trap? I could possibly get lost here. Shit, where did he go? I can’t hear him
running anymore. I slowed my pace down to jogging, and then to a walk.
 
Fuck, fuck, fuck! I lost him! I fucked up. I don’t know where I am.
 
I paced around for a bit as quiet as I could; the stranger could be around
without me even knowing. My breathing slowed down and the adrenaline began to
whither away. I regained my senses, as well as the fear. My mind kept trying to
calm itself, telling it sweet lies and reassurance as I continued my search for
the man. I have never gripped a gun this hard ever before.
 
And then I heard it:
 
Grass rustled softly as feet nearly glided over the wet patchy dirt. I kneeled
down behind a bush, watching as the one I was searching for tiptoed away. Their
head scanned around aggressively but purposeful. It didn’t look like they was
searching for a person, but more so something in the trees as their gaze was
high. I slowly prowled along their side, making sure to remain hidden and step
lightly. What were they looking for? The masked stranger jolted slightly and
stopped in their tracks; again, their gaze was high and fixated. I wanted to
move to a location where I had a better view of what they were looking at, but
my preferred spot was an open area, so I kept my view of the masked stranger’s
side. I suppressed a cough as I felt my throat began to tingle. Swallowing
saliva coated the urge, luckily. I silently observed their body language shift
from confident, to un-sure, all the way down to fearful. It was as though they
were listening to someone talk to them.
Then, they spoke. “You lied to me, you didn’t tell me that she wasn’t going to
be alone.” A feminine muffled voice bounced against the mask. My eyes blinked
in confusion; and I was almost sure that the intruder was male. My lips pressed
against itself, holding back the urge to cough once more. I held my breath as
she reached for her mask. “You told me to kill Elizabeth, you didn’t say I was
going to put up a fight.” The girl jolted and pulled the mask back down
quickly, as if someone scolded her for the attempt. My eyes kept scanning her
surroundings, but with this tree in the way, I couldn’t see the person she was
talking to.
“Elizabeth can’t fight, if it wasn’t for-” Her sentence was cut off. She began
to shake her head, while trying to stay confident, she stutters out, “N-no! I
don’t! She’s not important!” I notice her body begin to lean back. Her words
came out more and more stuttered as she began to step back. That’s when I
noticed a thin tendril-like shadow slither towards her. That’s what she was
backing away from. My face scrunched up and my hand gripped into my chest, I
held back several more coughs. This is the worst possible moment for me to
develop a cold.
The intruder wasn’t fast enough to dodge the tendril. It crawled up her body
and wrapped around her throat. Her hands slammed against it, fighting it. “W-
wait! No! She doesn’t matter! I’ll take care of them both next time!” How was
this happening? What is that? My teeth gritted together as I held my breath, if
I released a breath, I would certainly hack up. I needed to see where this was
coming from, so I leaned in closer. Her feet rose from the ground as the
tendril lifted her up. She began to choke, wheezing out. “I-I can h-elp you!
She h-has s-something you n-need!” With how dark it was, I couldn’t get any
good looks, but I did managed to see part of the side of a man wearing black. I
leaned in further to see the face. When I leaned in, my palm landed on a sharp
rock. I gasped in pain, hunched over, and released the coughing fit that I was
repressing this entire time.
While coughing, I looked back up to see the intruder fall to the ground. The
tendril quickly slithered back to it’s source. They knew I was here, whoever
they were. Both myself and the intruder stood to our feet, our attention glued
to each other. Before I could do anything, a bright light flashed behind me.
 
“STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” A voice roared.
 
I took a quick glance. Right behind my back was a police officer while his
flashlight and gun pointed at me. When I looked back around, both of them were
gone.
 
“Drop the weapon and put your hands up!!” He shouted at me.
 
I obeyed the officer, doing exactly what he said. To be honest, with what I
just saw, I had completely forgotten that I still had the gun. “It doesn’t
work, sir.”
 
“Just stand there and don’t move.” The officer warned. He tilted his head and
spoke into his radio. “I got a 417, female, dark hair.” My eyes closed and I
let out a frustrated sigh. Here we go again. The words that came from the radio
were unclear to me, but I assumed it was a question. The officer in front of me
replied, “Camouflage colored jacket and brown boots.” It took only a few
seconds before the other officer on the radio replied. “10-4. That is not the
suspect.” The officer nodded, transmitting one last ‘10-4’ before placing his
pistol back in his holster. “Are you hurt?”


“Julia! Rosanna!” Vincent shouted against the sound of his shoes slamming
against the pavement. His sprint fell short when he noticed the blood. An “Oh
god, no…” escaped his lips.
 I didn’t even look up at him when he slowly walked closer. I felt a hand cover
my shoulder. My arms tightened around my mom’s lifeless body, tears dripped
from my cheeks onto her clothes. I burrowed my face into her chest and began to
mumble quiet prayers to God, the universe, anyone, any thing . Please...don’t
be gone.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!