Chapter Text
The weeds were harsh against his legs—his shorts not giving him much coverage—as he ran through the field. Wilted sunflowers and withered roses let their petals fall in his path, covering the tainted soil from his shoes. He crushed each one, along with sticks and kicking at small rocks. The soles of his feet were beginning to bruise and his knees wobbled with each step he took. He had been running for so long, his lungs crushing with every wheezed breath he took—something so pathetic in his mind.
His vision blurred out and his eyes stung with tears that had pushed past the barrier, the threat to fall no longer hesitated. They skipped past his cheeks and made way behind his ears, mixing in with the strands of his hair that was matted with mud and dried blood. It stuck on his forehead and arms, something that itched against him, but he had no time to scratch it away. It sat uncomfortably, and he just let it soak him in.
The air was murky, foggy and humid, making sweat drip down his neck and cling to his clothes, something he wanted to wash away. The sky was gray; dark, but light enough to lead him through the path he conjured in his mind. There was no sun in the sky, but there was no moon either, clouds swarming and blocking away what he didn’t know could be there. It threatened to let the rain fall, the light breeze brushing against his skin doing the same, but that wasn’t something he found himself focused on.
He was focused on the running that gave chase after him and the hollowed screams of excruciating pain that echoed through the trees he had left behind. The blood on his clothes he knew he’d have to wash out—blood that didn’t belong to him. He was focused on the fear that clouded his judgement, trying to keep himself level-headed, despite his growing failure to do so. He was focused on making it to the highway, screaming out to the passing cars to stop and help him get home, away from the monsters he couldn’t face. He was focused on surviving what he knew he couldn’t.
He didn’t know what he was running from or what he was running towards—only hoping it would bring him to salvation—, but he knew stopping would be fatal. He didn’t know why the screaming was so loud, but he knew who it belonged to. It was conjured by the one who left his clothes soaked in red. It had spilled out from his chest at a rapid speed, dripping down and sticking to the grass he laid back on. It was so unexpected, and he didn’t know how it could’ve happened—he had only turned his back for a second. He tried to help, trying to stop the bleeding, but he was pushed away, his friend—his brother—begging him to get out of the woods and to safety.
He didn’t want to listen, he didn’t want to leave him behind, and he was struggling to remember why he had. Maybe it was the rushing of leaves that whispered amongst him to mock, the taunting of laughter that circled through the creases of the wood, or the sudden running that was quickly growing closer. It didn’t make sense to him as he would never leave his brother behind. But, today, he had. It was too late for him to turn back now, his brother lost to the creatures that conquered the night, and that was his fault—he’d have to live with that.
He choked on his breath and it squeezed at his throat, a sharp pain coursing through his chest and rippling through his ribs. Every step sent needles through his calves, thighs pulling at muscle and popped creaking bones in his knees. He hadn’t run this fast and moved with such urgency in years. The adrenaline felt all the same, but the fear held such a burning difference.
Getting caught didn’t mean a slap on the wrist or a few fines out of his pocket anymore, getting caught meant death in the claws of the demon that hid within the shadows. He couldn’t let that happen. People needed to know what happened here tonight, they needed to know that there was a body out in the woods. He refused to be another missing person never found as he rots away, skin and flesh eaten by the maggots and flies, decomposing and becoming fertilizer for the sunflowers and roses.
His foot caught on the roots of a stump in front of him, the wood sharp against his calf, scrapping back skin as he fell over it. His knees bent, a bone snapping in his left leg as he landed on the ground. A scream erupted from the pit of his stomach, face down in the dirt—it was pitiful, really. He was heaving out sobs, trying to pick himself back up on his arms, trying to crawl away, but he couldn’t move. He curled in on himself, dirt caking his face as blood leaked out from his nose. His hope was lost in his cries, awaiting the fate life had in store for him.
The running from behind him had slowed to a calmer walk, a sinister call in the form of a weak whistle following. The shake in his shoulders heightened, leaning on his arms as he kept his head down and eyes squeezed shut, trying to hide himself away in the weeds. He moved a hand to his mouth, lip quivering as he bit down his sobs, holding his breath. He tried to imagine himself somewhere else, a bright place with green grass and sunny skies, but he couldn’t see anything but darkness—pitch black and starless skies, a somber story he lived in.
It stopped walking beside him, his whistling coming to an end as well. When it took its seat beside him, a strangled cry fell from his cracking lips before he could stop it. His breathing was uneven and uncontrolled as the thin air went dry, waiting for another strike of pain, waiting to fall victim to whatever this thing had prepared for him. Snot ran down and mixed with the blood and salt from his tears, sweat beaded down his neck and he felt so weak—so vulnerable.
His body froze when a hand lightly fell on his head, softly rubbing against his scalp and pulling through the knots of his hair. It was something meant to be comforting, something to soothe him, but it had the opposite effect as it made his fear pile. It never spoke, humming a soft tune that made him want to vomit. They sat there, listening to the helpless screams that choked and begged. He couldn’t do anything about it, couldn’t pull away and run towards his friend. He just laid on his stomach as his legs began to feel numb.
He couldn’t hold back his sobs any longer once he felt the claws dig into his scalp, blood pooling down his face and dripping down to his hands. It never pulled him, never forced him to look up, so he didn’t. He kept his eyes shut, squeezing them with clenched teeth and helpless prayers. He sat, waiting for far too long and listening through ringing ears, unmoving from his spot.
Then, the screaming came to a sudden stop. Thunder roared above them as rain sprinkled down to his head and shoulders. It took its hand back, and then, it finally spoke with a smile in its deep and raspy voice, “Thank you, Samuel.”
He let out a gasp, eyes snapped open as his head shot up, and he just knew. He screamed out into the air for his friend, knowing it wouldn’t reach anyone, but he tried anyway, “Colby! ”
~>X<~
11:36pm
“Sammy! Come on, man, wake up!” Sam jumped with a gasp, pulling himself away from the hand pushing against his shoulder—the rings scraping against him. He blinked, letting the black splotches that crowded his vision fade out so he could take in his surroundings for a moment.
The leather of his seat peeled away from his skin as he moved, clinging back to him as he sweat despite the cold. There was a low humming from the engine and light music coming from the beat up radio—it scratched along each chorus. It wasn’t the best choice they’ve made when it came to getting a rental for a week, but it was the only option aside from a beaten up buggy.
There was a dent on the left side of the hood and the handles were rusted, but it ran just fine. Two drinks sat in the sticky cup holders and the smell from their fast food run was still flowing through the car by the air conditioning. Loose fries sat on the floor, the salt sticking to the seat and poking against Sam’s pants. The seat belt he wore scratched against him, leaving behind a red mark on his neck.
He blinked again, shaking his head as he shifted around in his seat with a groan, trying (and failing) to rub the tiredness away from his burning eyes. His fingers slipped around his cheeks, feeling tears that soaked them—he hadn’t even realized, “What…?” He mumbled with a hoarse voice as he wiped them away, talking more to himself than Colby.
“You were crying in your sleep again.” Colby commented, finally pulling his eyes away hesitantly to watch the road in front of them, “Was it that nightmare?”
Sam hummed, wetting his lips with his tongue before pulling at them with his teeth, letting out a defeated sigh, “Yeah…”
Colby paused for a moment, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he swallowed thickly, “You… You wanna talk about it?”
“Nope.” His voice held no room for argument, folding his arms with a shiver that ran through his body.
Late nights in Virginia are expected to be cold this time of year, the autumn winds brushing through trees and nipping against exposed skin. It made Sam roll the window up, his hands grabbing at the sleeves of the sweatshirt that drowned his shoulders to find warmth again. He wanted to reach over and turn on the heat, but Colby liked the cold, so he decided against it as he laid his head against the window, eyes closing to find peace in the darkness.
The nightmares were new, something that hadn’t started until they landed in Roanoke about a week ago. The first night at the hotel had Sam jolting from his sleep in a hurried breath, tears soaking his face with a genuine fear that Colby was just gone . His sobs had awakened the other, and the night ended with Sam abandoning his bed to lay with Colby in his. He gripped at his shirt to prove to himself that he was still there, but he never found sleep again that night.
Then, it became a pattern, waking up in a cold sweat and tears, looking for Colby before he could truly calm himself down. Throughout the week, they started to hold less of an effect as he awoke—mostly just a headache and annoyance—, but that seemed to worry Colby the most. He had never had nightmares like these before, usually waking up and forgetting he even had them within minutes of the morning. He was concerned and getting through the night with restless sleep and harsh fears. But, despite it all, he refused to talk about it, not daring to burden Colby with this just yet.
“Okay, well, you’re gonna have to talk to me about these nightmares eventually, man.” Colby sighed, resting his elbow against the window seal and held his forehead.
Sam only hummed, opening his eyes once again as he tapped his foot against the floor. He yawned, slouching in his seat, “How far out are we?”
“About ten minutes, the owner is already there and waiting for us.” Sam hummed as his response, letting the silence soak in between them. He liked silence when he awoke, something comforting and a time to let himself feel relaxed before getting through a busy schedule. It seemed that they were always busy these days.
The drive from Roanoke to Front Royal was about two and a half hours north, stopping by Augusta County for gas and food, adding another two hours to their trip. Sam had admired the view the mountains gave and Colby rambled about anything and everything for the first half of the drive. Sam hadn’t meant to fall asleep after that, trying to fight it off because he knew what was waiting for him. A part of him felt bad that Colby was stuck in the car with no company for that time, but the other part of him was frustrated that Colby had let him sleep at all.
They had tried to get a hotel closer, but with Thanksgiving rolling in and families visiting one another, booking a room was near impossible. Colby had tried to reason, saying it was probably a sign they should hold this one off, but Sam insisted that they kept trying. He had said he had ‘a feeling’ about this house, but Colby had made the comment that Sam always had a feeling when it came to their investigations. Sam didn’t make much room for argument and Colby was easy to cave in when it came to him.
Sam smacked his lips together, throat dry and lips cracking, trying to shake off the dizzy feeling of sleep, as well as the pressure in his head. He rubbed at his eyes and leaned forward—his elbows leaning against his knees. He was sucking in harsh breaths, trying to shake off the feeling that something was watching him—that something was watching them.
“Sam? You good?”
“Yup, yeah, good, all good…” Sam’s voice cracked and he cleared it, shaking his shoulders back before sitting up, “I’m fine.”
Colby shook his head and moved his hand to the center console, turning off the radio, “Okay, maybe this was a bad idea.”
“Colby-”
“I’m serious, Sam. You haven’t been getting any sleep this whole week and I just… I have a bad feeling about this.”
“You always have a bad feeling.”
“Well, maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t have a demon up your ass every month.”
“Jesus Christ, Colby…” Sam groaned, unable to stop the chuckle that came out from his throat. He sucked in a breath, looking over with a tired smile, “Look, we already paid for the tour and I’ve been excited for this trip for months. I promise that if at any point I don’t feel comfortable or I just need fresh air, I’ll tell you.”
“And you won’t run off again?”
Sam hesitated, opening his mouth with excuses rushing through his head before it fell in defeat, “No, I won’t run off.”
Colby nodded, reaching a hand over to Sam's shoulder, “Good… I just… I worry about you sometimes.”
Sam nodded, the smile on his face fading away as he looked back out the window and towards the mountains that surrounded them. The sky was pitch black, a void that sucked in everything into a blank canvas. But maybe that’s why Sam felt so drawn towards it. The stars that sprinkled in and the moon that guided their path gave such a strange form of comfort. Anything within nature had always called to him like a siren, whether it be the oak wood of trees or the weeds that trapped themselves in loose concrete. He felt like he belonged, and that feeling was always so rare.
The car began to rock as they headed up the gravel driveway, dust flying past the windows and sticking to the paint of the car. It clouded them in, locked away in the safety of where they sat. Once the car came to a stop, Colby threw it in park. He pulled out the keys from the ignition and they both stared up at the house.
It was all made from wood, surrounded by trees with a small pond on its left—completely isolated from the world. The roof looked as if it was meant to fall four winters ago and the steps leading up to the porch were caving in with cracks. Nothing about the house was stable, the windows were shattered and the door was loose on its hinges. One wrong brush of wind would send it tumbling like a house of cards, but that only made Sam more eager.
Colby sighed, opening his car door and stepping out, sucking in the fresh air. He liked the calm compared to the crowded streets of Los Angeles. It was peaceful, something that washed over him like the nice warmth of the sun on a Summer day. It made him want to move back to Kansas sometimes, but he knew that he’d never want to leave behind what he has worked so hard to gain.
He turned to face Sam when he heard his car door slam shut. He leaned on the roof of the car, tapping his fingers against it, “You sure about this?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
Colby nodded, “Just double checking… I’ll grab the camera, where’d you put it?” He asked, moving to the back seat to look.
“What?”
He stopped, looking back up at him with a raised brow, “The camera?”
“I thought you grabbed it?”
“Uhm, no? I said I’d grab the equipment, I didn’t mean the camera.”
“Okay, well, I assumed when you said ‘equipment’, you meant the camera as well.” Sam spoke in a sarcastic tone, not fully understanding the logic behind what the taller had been thinking.
Colby took a breath, closing his eyes as he let his head fall back, clenching his fists and unclenching them again, “Awesome.”
“Look, man, It should be fine! We can just have fun with this on our own, have something for ourselves for once? Besides, we’re already here.”
Colby glared at him, squinting his eyes for a moment, “I hate you.”
“Sure you do.” Sam chuckled, hands in the pockets of his jacket.
Once they gathered the rest of their things, they made their way through the gravel and towards the house. The rocks from under them kicked up, skidding along and crunching beneath their shoes. The crickets chirped, but the closer they would get to the house, the less they would hear them. And as they stood right at the steps to the porch, there was nothing but complete silence around them—not a sound beside their breathing. It threw Colby off, sending him an uneasy feeling, wishing Sam would just listen this one time so they could make the trip back to the hotel. But he knew Sam well enough to know he’d never do such a thing.
Sam took the first step, his foot landing on the creaking wood. It snapped under his weight, making him stumble slightly with a small curse under his breath. He pulled his foot back, staring down at the now broken step beneath him, unsure of what to do about it.
“Don’t worry about it, it was meant to break eventually.” Both Sam and Colby jumped at the sound of a low voice, looking up to see a man in his late fifties standing in front of the door. He wore a beard, gray on the sides but white nearing his lips and nose. He stood tall, shoulders hunched slightly with a cane in his hand.
“Mr. Berkeley?” Colby asked, and the man nodded.
“Please, son, call me George. You must be those ‘explorers’ I’ve been hearing so much about.” He chuckled, kind eyes and a bright smile, “You had a tour set, correct?”
“Yes sir.”
The man gripped at his cane as he started to turn towards the door with a groan, leaning on it more when he would take a step with his right leg, “Well come on in, boys, make yourselves at home.”
Colby followed first, moving up on the second step, but this time, the wood never caved in to his weight.