Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Nockfell was a pathetic little rural town founded in 1623 located just north of Wendigo Lake and surrounded by the densest forest one could imagine. There was a singular run down road leading in or out of the town and you could almost see dust settle on it from how little traffic it got. The town mostly housed old people, who apparently enjoyed nothing ever happening around here, and those that had the incredible misfortune of being born here. Travis fell in the second category.

As long as he can remember, his days have always consisted of biking to and from school, cooking the same 5 meals in rotation for him and his father, seeing the same old people at church every sunday and having the same old conversation with them. Day in, day out - apart from the seasons, nothing much ever changed in Nockfell.

Which is why Travis was convinced that the only people that would voluntarily move to Nockfell either were heartlessly dragged here by their family, or clinically insane.

Judging from the jagged blue ponytails, the mismatched clothes and the freaky fucking mask that stared back blankly at the class, this new kid was the latter.

The teacher placed a hand on the newbie's shoulder and informed the class that “Sal” had just moved here from New Jersey and asked that they all help make him feel welcome and show him how things work around here in Nockfell.

Oh Travis was for sure going to show him how things work around here in Nockfell.

At every possible turn, Travis was looking for trouble. You’d be hard pressed to find someone in Nockfell High that hasn’t met his fists before. 

His reputation as a bully stood in stark contrast with his good grades and status as the pastor's son. Teachers tended to turn the other cheek to his bad behaviour since they didn’t want to risk his father looking at them differently in church and since Travis managed to still be a pretty decent student he usually got off with a slap on the wrist. 

It was a precarious balance that took a lot of effort to maintain. But it’s not like Travis had a choice. If he stopped getting into fights at school people would start to question why he still showed up battered and bruised.

Today's victims were the usual, Larry Johnson, the resident stoner, Todd Morrison, gay, and Ashley Campbell, bitchy and emo. They were easy targets to hurl a few insults at but probably wouldn’t indulge in actually starting a fist fight. Good. Travis' chest still hurt from his latest obedience lesson.

“Hey flamers, where’d you leave your pet psycho? Out selling crack for lunch money?”

“Oh my god Phelps, can you just keep walking?”, Larry immediately rose to the bait - just like Travis knew he would.

“I would, but Miss teen-abortion over here is blocking my locker”, Travis jabbed his thumb in Ash’s direction, who was leaning against the row of lockers and sent him a poisonous look. Travis knew that he’d get her with that, he was honestly surprised that she didn’t immediately take a swing at him for bringing it up like this.

“What’s your fucking problem, asshole?”, Ash clenched her fists at the jab.

“You are, move”, he pushed at her shoulder roughly and she stumbled into Todd.

Immediately, Travis was slammed against the lockerwall, his pullover clenched in Larry's fist who was trying to tower over him despite them being almost the same height. 

Given the bruises he hid under the cashmere were still fresh this hurt much more than he was willing to show on his face so he carefully sculpted his expression to that of indifference and roughly pushed Larry's hands off of him, “fuck off, Johnson”

Larry looked ready to charge him again but stopped in his tracks when he heard a familiar voice.

“Woah, what’s going on here?”, Sal asked, trying to diffuse the situation. He had been in Nockfell for a couple months by now and it was clear from day one that he and the rest of the screw ups would flock together. 

“Oh great, the freak circus is complete now”, Travis said as he turned to his locker to open it and put his books away.

At this Larry raised his fist again, still ticked off and Travis almost flinched but Sal had stopped Larry from swinging. 

“Don’t. You’ll only get in trouble”, he had said, metaphorically putting a collar and tight leash on Larry.

Travis smirked at clearly having the high ground now, “aw, and it was just getting interesting. Nobody likes a killjoy Sally Face.”, he mocked, stretching out the name.

“Nobody likes a cliché bully, Travis”, Sally Face countered, drawing out the vowels of his name just as much.

“Don’t you have something better to do?”, Ash demanded, still rubbing her shoulder as if Travis had actually pushed her that hard. 

“Shut up, bitch! I wasn’t talking to you”, he spat her way.

“You know, if you took that stick out of your ass you may actually enjoy being nice for once. Maybe even make a friend or two”, Sal scowled at Travis.

“Oh fuck off, faggot”, He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at what Sal said. He wondered if he had to practice that line in the mirror.

“You kiss your daddy with that tongue? I’m sure he-”, the rest of Sal's sentence was cut off by Travis hitting him square in the face. He heard a crack upon impact and saw the blue haired boy tumble backwards from the impact, both hands immediately coming up to his face.

Travis shook his fist out, trying to get the stinging to stop but judging from the cuts on two of his knuckles he’d be feeling that punch for a while. He slammed his locker shut and walked away leaving the freakshow to themselves.

That was his first time being punched.

And it fucking hurt like hell.

Sal was desperately trying to hold the prosthetic to his face. He had felt it split into two when Travis’ fist collided with it. Pushing it too hard, the sharp edge where it had broken was digging into his skin.

It was only a matter of time before this happened. The prosthetic had broken before so it wasn’t as strong anymore as when he had first gotten it as one solid mold of a face that was now to be his. But he had hoped that it would be his own fault when it eventually broke apart again and that he’d be in the comfort of his own home and not in the dingy hallway of the school.

On top of that his face throbbed with pain, tears had sprung to his eyes and he’s pretty sure he tasted blood.

Man, Travis could really land a punch.

“Sally?”, Ash’s voice managed to cut through the ringing in his ears. He tried to focus on her face but there seemed to be more than one of her, “here wait” 

He saw her moving, flashes of blue and purple, and then Ash threw her jean jacket over his face, then dragged him up by his arm and off to who knows where.

He could hear Larry curse and Todd trying to calm him down so they must have followed as well.

“Mask”, Ash demanded, he could see her manicured hand reaching towards him from where her jacket that was obscuring his face ended.

“It’s a prosthetic,” Sal said meekly, but slowly lowered the two pieces from his face and handed them over to her.

Judging by the tile design he was now looking down upon they were in the school bathroom. Judging by the smell, the boys bathroom specifically.

He was placed to sit on the edge of the sinks, looking at his lap.

“Phelps better pray to his god that I don’t catch him anytime soon”, Larry sounded furious. Sal knew it was coming from a place of worry about him but also he really didn’t want Larry to get into even more trouble with Travis. It would only escalate between the two, both too stubborn to ever back down from an unfinished fight.

“Stop planning his murder and make yourself useful”, Ash said, “try to get the blood off while I go get my glue.”

Sal heard the door open and close again, then Todd spoke up.

“Are you okay, Sal?”

Sal let out a choked laugh at that and brought his hands to his face again to wipe away the tears that had formed, “yeah, it’s not too bad. Thank you, guys.” He could hear the faucet running, probably Larry cleaning his prosthetic as best as he could.

“That prick really did a number on you”, Larry piped up, then pressed a wet paper towel into Sal's hand, “here, for your face, or do you want me to?”

“No”, Sal answered immediately, “I got it, thanks.”

The initial cold of the towel felt nice but didn’t last long. Sal gave his best effort to get all the blood off despite not seeing what he was doing. 

He heard the door again and then Ashley's voice instructing Larry to hold the plastic pieces steady so she could glue them back together.

When she finished she handed the prosthetic back to Sal.

She did a good job, if it wasn’t for the two pieces of colourful painters tape she put on for extra support you could never tell it had snapped in half in the first place.

Sal quickly placed it over his face and fastened the buckles in the back. He then pulled Ash's Jacket off of his head and gave it back to her and jumped off the sinks. Ash gave him a sweet smile that he returned despite her not being able to see it.

“Let me fix your hair as well and then you’ll be as good as new”, she said, cramming around in her bag and eventually pulling out a little hairbrush.

Sal looked at himself in the mirror as she methodically brushed through his tangled hair and redid his staple pony tails. If you looked closely you could see his reddened eyes and a small red line from where the broken edge of his prosthetic had cut him.

Larry had caught him getting lost in his reflection and poked him on the cheek, when Sal looked at himself again, a neon blue smiley sticker adorned his plastic cheek.

“There, all better”, he said and smiled goofily.

“Yeah”, Sal nodded, “all better. Thank you”

After that, Sal avoided Travis as much as possible.

In the few months he’s been in Nockfell Travis had always antagonized their group, hurled insults their way or tried to pick fights. Sal had never known just how many slurs for gay people there were before. 

Sal and Todd definitely faced most of the abuse, courtesy of Todd being openly gay and Sal being…well Sal.

His plan was sabotaged however by their English teacher deciding to change the seating arrangement and place him right next to the blond.

Something about “Sal falling behind” and “Travis being able to help him catch up since Sal joined in the middle of the school year” he had said. And Sal understood where their teacher was coming from, he really did, Sal sucked at English, always had, he much preferred subjects like math where everything always made sense, but this didn’t seem like a good solution at all.

At least Travis had seemed just as uncomfortable with this new arrangement as Sal, scooting his chair to the far left, maximizing the space between them.

“Mr. Phelps I expect you to help out Mr. FIscher to bring him up to speed.”, their teacher knocked his knuckles on Travis' table twice before he left to start class.

With a sigh Sal had decided that if he was going to be stuck sitting next to Travis for the rest of the year he might as well make the best out of it.

“Sorry about this”, he had whispered Travis' way, but the blond just sent him a nasty glare in return.

And that was all he got out of this so far.

It’s been almost 3 weeks since the change and Sal had given it his best effort. He wished Travis a good morning when he sat down and tried to bother him as little as possible but being annoyed at him seemed to be Travis factory setting. 

Today was no different.

Sal had been to a doctors appointment first and second period and had just made it in time to join English, slumping into his seat, slightly out of breath. Running in his prosthetic was never a good idea.

“Morning”, he said to Travis, not expecting - or getting - an answer, as always, “Hey, can I borrow a pen?”

“You didn’t bring a pen to school? Are you fucking stupid?”, Travis spat.

“My bag’s still in Larry’s truck”, Sal explained, still slightly out of breath, “please man”

Rolling his eyes Travis wordlessly let his hand that was holding his pen fall to Sal”s side, holding it out for him.

Sal took it with a small “thank you” and was about to turn his attention to their teacher when he saw Travis look him up and down.

“Where were you?”, he eventually asked as he grabbed a new pen from his pencil case.

Sal was surprised he was actually talking to him. Not wanting to share his intricate medical history with his bully however, he set on a vague enough answer: “just a check up at the clinic” 

“Are you sick?”, Travis brows scrunched together even more than the permanent scowl that Sal had come to realize was Travis resting face.

“Dude”, Sal blinked at him dumbfounded. 

As Travis looked at him again, taking in the plastic that replaced Sal's real face it seemed to click. Sal could swear he could see a slight flush appearing on Travis face as he turned away again with a mumbled “whatever, fuck off”.

He almost let out a small laugh but was able to hold himself back.

When the teacher started the lesson Sal also had to ask Travis if they could share his copy of Romeo & Juliet since his own book was also packed neatly in between his planner and his math homework, left in his backpack on the backseat of Larry's van.

To his surprise Travis complied.

Sal knew he shouldn’t push his luck today any further but he just couldn’t resist when he saw Travis sticking out his tongue in concentration as he worked on the spread sheet about the four humours that their teacher had handed out.

“How do you know where to place the characters?”, his sheet was embarrassingly bare compared to Travis’.

“It’s not fucking rocket science, Sally Face”, Travis didn’t look up as he wrote “Benvolio” under Juliet's name in the Phlegm column.

“I think rocket science would make more sense to me actually”

At that Travis put his pen down, dropped his right hand that was supporting his head and turned to look at Sal. He considered him for a moment before reaching for the book, shuffling through the pages until he found a scene where he had stuck a pink post-it note to the page.

“Here”, he said with no small amount of annoyance in his voice as he held out the book to Sal, “too much phlegm means the character is choleric, right? And it’s described as coming from the gut, you can easily remember that people who have this imbalance rely on their gut instinct and are therefore more impulsive”, he impatiently tapped at the page now, bringing Sal's attention to the dialogue written there, “Mercutio is like a textbook example of this. He’s passionate to a fault, in this scene he literally challenges Tybalt to a battle just to defend Romeo's honour. And he just never stops talking.”

Sal blinked disbelievingly. He had never heard Travis say so many words without a single swear or insult.

His eyes flitted over the scene Travis had presented. He knows he’s read it before but the old speech made it really difficult for him to understand what was actually going on.

“And how do you remember who’s who and what they’ve done?”

Travis shrugged, “I’ve read the book a bunch of times”

To say that Sal was intrigued by that would be the understatement of the year, but he really didn’t want this conversation to turn sour just because he was too curious for his own good, so instead he nodded in understanding and wrote down the mnemonic device Travis had told him about characters trusting their gut and being impulsive. That… actually helped a lot. Maybe his teacher was onto something with Travis being able to help him. But that would prerequisiteTravis actually talking to him.

When class eventually ended, Sal gave Travis his pen back with a “thank you” that wasn’t acknowledged in the slightest.

But maybe, just maybe, Sal should try to make this work. Maybe the minutes they had to sit next to each other didn’t have to drag on with uncomfortable disdain between them. If for nothing else than for the sake of his grade.

When he told Larry as much the taller boy asked if he had lost his mind or if the doc gave him drugs that made him hallucinate the entire interaction. The mere thought of Travis saying something to Sal that didn’t insult his appearance,  his demeanor, his friends, or the queer community in large and instead explaining Romeo & Juliet being so outlandish it didn’t seem at all likely.

Sal decided then and there to prove him wrong. God knows they’d never be friends but maybe they can at least try to get along?

Starting that week, Sal made it his mission to talk to Travis every day. Even if just a few words. Now, whenever they would pass each other in the hallway Sal would greet him or just wave at him.

This got him mixed results, some days Travis pushed him into the lockers in passing, other times he told him to fuck off. Or he just ignored him completely. 

Looks like Travis was going to fight him on this every step of the way. But Sal didn’t mind, he was nothing if not persistent.

He didn’t even quite remember what happened, but when Travis sat up in bed, he was aching all over.

His father had insisted that he had to come along to one of his meetings at church, but Travis had felt sick and woozy ever since eating dinner that night, maybe it was the wine his father had brought but it couldn’t have been much stronger than the communion wine Travis sometimes sneaked after mass.

He can recall sitting in his fathers car, the scenery passing by in a blur, and he remembered needing his fathers help to get to the church, maybe he even had to carry him.

The other members' greetings had fallen on semi-deaf ears and Travis only remembers the damp air leaving a gravelly taste in his mouth before he lost consciousness.

And now that he woke up in his bed, he had a pounding migraine on the left side of his head. Feeling around on his back, he felt raised skin down his spine and his shirt stuck uncomfortably to dried blood.

A lesson to not embarrass his father like that again, he assumed. It’s not the first time he woke up beaten and bruised, but normally he passes out from the pain and not before. Weird.

Unfortunately, he was also fresh out of pain killers, so dragging himself up and out of bed was a mission and a half. He doubted he’d be able to ride his bike with his back and arms aching this much, so he’d have to leave much earlier than usual so he could walk to school instead.

He counted himself lucky that his father was a busy man. He was usually already out of the house when Travis got up and most days he came home late. That left only a few hours in the evening where Travis could fall on his bad side and he did everything he could to avoid that fate. 

Pulling on a turtleneck that would cover the blue and purple that bloomed on his skin, Travis got ready for school and left the blue suburban house before the sun was up and made his way toward Nockfell High at a snail's pace.

He’d have to pull himself together sooner rather than later so people wouldn’t realize how much he was hurting. Maybe the school nurse would take pity on him and give him something for the pain.

Heading straight to the nurses office he rapped his knuckles on the door, and the face that peered through the now opening door instantly fell when she spotted him. She never liked Travis much, given that he made her job much more stressful than it would be if he stopped using his classmates as living punching bags but what was a guy to do?

“Travis for gods sake it’s not even 8am what could you possibly want?”, her annoyed tone was not unfamiliar to the blonds’ ears.

“I just have a headache.” 

“Lot’s of water and fresh air”, she prescribed easily and shut the door again. 

Fuck. 

Can’t a guy get a fucking Tylenol around here?

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to punch the wall in frustration and was about to make his way to his locker when he spotted blue hair thrown into loose pigtails bobbing along as Sal talked to Todd. 

They were walking in his direction and when blue eyes found Travis, Sal waved to him and said good morning.

Too tired from the restless night and ongoing throbbing in his back, he just ignored them and instead made his way to the bathroom.

He splashed some water in his face and then looked up in the mirror.

Dark eyebags were prominent on his face, the cut in his lip not properly healing because he kept picking at it. His disheveled appearance was accentuated by the water droplets that now traced the curves of his face.

He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself. He had endured much worse before, he just needed to suck it up.

Drying his face and quickly fixing his bleached hair with his fingers he walked out of the bathroom again and made his way to his first class.

English, of course.

He used to look forward to English, it was his favourite subject, but ever since their teacher decided to make him and Sal deskmates he had to deal with Sal trying to start up conversation and annoying the shit out of him. Maybe he’d have to deck the punk again to make him understand just how little he appreciated the attempts.

“What’s up, Trav?”, Sal piped up as he slid into his seat to Travis’ right.

“Call me that again and I’ll kill you”, what the fuck was wrong with this kid?

“Sorry”, Sal laughed, then considered Travis for a moment, “are you okay man? Saw you at the nurses office”

Travis scoffed at that, “it’s none of your business, Freak”

There was much more venom in his voice than he meant to but it had the desired effect, Sal flinched back in his seat and dropped the conversation entirely.

Travis reveled in the hurt expression on his face for just a moment before the teacher began their lesson.

It went by quickly enough now that Sal didn’t dare speak to him again.

But once class was over he was faced with the fact that he’d have to move again and any satisfaction he might have felt at shutting up that blue haired flamer was washed away immediately.

He moved slowly, as if calculated, and he would have gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for the fact that he had to bend down to pick up his backpack.

He couldn’t disguise the pained expression on his face the movement tore out of him and he sharply sucked in air through his teeth.

This apparently was enough to make Sal forget that Travis had threatened to kill him only an hour ago, because the shorter one spoke up again, worry laced thick in his voice.

“Okay, what the fuck is up with you?”

“I said it’s none of your business. Fuck off!”

“Well I’m making it my business, you’re clearly in pain”, Sal crossed his arms as he continued looking at Travis who was still struggling with putting his backpack on.

“You will be too, if you don’t shut up”, the threat was very real and he could only hope for Sal that he knew that as well.

“Christ, Travis, just let me help you, give me your bag”, Sal took a step towards him, so Travis immediately grabbed him by the collar of his black worn out sweater, straightening up to tower over Sal as he fletched his teeth at him.

“Fuck. Off.”, with that he pushed Sal away from him again and stormed out of the room, ignoring how his back was screaming at him from the sudden and harsh movement.

The rest of his morning didn’t go by much smoother, he knew he had to stop focusing on the pain so much because that was only making it worse, but that was easier said than done. His entire back felt like it was on fire and the pounding migraine hadn’t let up in the slightest.

He even tried the nurses office again but to no avail. That woman really hated him and honestly? The feeling was mutual.

It wasn’t until lunch period when Travis sat, too nauseous to eat, rubbing at his temple that Sal dared to enter his line of sight again.

The freak had walked up to where Travis sat writing in his notebook with his untouched lunch tray pushed to the side, and placed a pill in front of him.

“It’s Ibuprofen, take it or leave it”, then he walked off again.

Travis scowled at him, then at the white pill he left.

He popped it into his mouth and washed it down with some of his apple juice. It wouldn’t help with the cuts that littered his skin beneath his shirt, but it might stop the pounding behind his eyesocket.

The rest of the school day was a little easier to endure with the throbbing in his head subdued, but if anyone asked you’d have to waterboard that admission out of him.

“I don’t know why you care”, Ash argued, “even if all his skin was peeled off and he was doused in lemon juice he wouldn’t be in half as much pain as he has caused every single person in this school for years.”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic”, Sal said, to which Larry quickly chimed in with an “is she?!”

He knew his friends didn’t give two shits about Travis. Him being in pain seemed to delight them more than anything. And he knew they weren’t a fan of his long term plan of at least being able to talk to Travis without risking broken bones, but his mind was set, whether his friends would support him on it or not.

Even if Travis was an asshole, Sal didn’t wish pain on him.

“He really didn’t seem well this morning”, Todd joined in, “whatever is wrong with him won’t be fixed with a single Ibuprofen anyway”

“Whatever’s wrong with him”, Ash quickly piped up, “is that he needs a personality transplant which unfortunately has not been invented yet.”

That got Larry hollering and smacking his hand on the table. Ash always had such a way with words 

“He can be nice if he wants to be”, Sal mumbled.

“Oh yeah, absolutely he can”, Larry agreed, “problem is that he doesn’t want to”

“Aren’t christians supposed to live and breathe kindness or something like that?”, Ash asked, leaning her head in her hand.

“I think we live outside of what Travis thinks God approves of and therefore outside of his love. So if God doesn’t care about us neither does he”, Todd philosophied next to her.

“I don’t know about that…”, Sal tried to argue in favour of Travis, but he really didn’t have much to go off of. His point was built on the paper thin argument that he talked to him without outright menace once, during class.

But he didn’t want to stop his little plan without giving it a proper try first. Also that less than ideal English grade was eating away at him.

That thought is what motivated him to walk into English class the next day, determination set on his face.

He placed his backpack on the table with enough force to make Travis look at him and before any insult could leave the blonds mouth Sal collected all his courage and spoke up first.

“Can you tutor me?”

Travis looked at him absolutely bewildered.

“Fuck no”, he eventually said.

Hm. Not what Sal had hoped for. But not surprising either.

“Okay”, he said as he sat down and picked up his bag to place it on the ground next to him.

Travis mumbled something to himself that definitely sounded mean, but Sal couldn’t make out what it was.

“Are you feeling better today?”, Sal spoke up again, not knowing how else to start a conversation again.

“Stop talking to me, Freak” 

Well, no success in small talk before class would start then. Their teacher clapped his hands together to get everybody's attention and then shared his plan for today's lesson.

To Sal’s delight, they would focus on Juliet today. He might not entirely understand the play but he liked her character well enough.

He was flipping through his book looking for scenes that would help him with his characterization of her but since he had to read most parts over and over again to make sense of what they were talking about this was proving harder than he thought. 

Next to him, Travis was already flipping his paper to continue writing on the backside.

“How are you so fast?”, Sal sighed with a gesture to Travis’ work.

“Juliet’s a pretty straightforward character, dumbass, it’s not that hard to write down what makes her her” 

“I guess I don’t understand what made her think she and Romeo were meant to be, that sounds very…”, Sal was waving his hand around, looking for the right word, then suddenly, something clicked, “impulsive! Travis, she’s impulsive! She’s full of phlegm”

“Maybe don’t write it down like that, but yes”, Travis pinched his nose exasperated, then went back to writing, “now leave me alone”

With a newfound thesis to prove, Sal started flipping through his pages again to find proof for Juliet's tendency to make decisions on a whim. He would have never paid that much attention to her do-now-think-later attitude before, but now he was finding small signs of this character trait almost everywhere. Starting with her love for Romeo and ending with her death via self-induced stab wound.

There of course was no way he’d finish his characterization of the tragedy's titular character today, given that he had to skim over the whole play again and again to find specific plot points but he’d felt much more confident now that he already had one major character trait down.

When it was time to pack up Sal decided to try his luck again.

“Did you finish your essay already?”

Travis ignored his question, continuing to pack his things and when he got up to leave, he made sure to push Sal into the table, making him stumble over his own bag.

Ash’s home life was… busy to say the least. Her mum worked two jobs and would take on extra shifts whenever possible to make sure Ash and her brother Benji were taken care of, leaving Ash in charge of looking after the toddler more often than not.

Bills were piled up on the kitchen counter with the last possible pay date messily noted on the envelope they came in. The rest of the counter space was filled with dishes that didn’t fit into the sink anymore, last night's leftovers that were left out to cool but got forgotten, never making their way into the fridge, one of the kitchen cabinet doors came loose last year and has been precariously placed behind the sink since. 

Their kitchen was old enough that it also accommodated their washer and dryer. A pile of laundry was placed on top of the machines and Ash would be hard pressed to identify whether those were dirty or at one point were wet, waiting for their time in the dryer.

She had turned on the radio that occasionally stuttered with static sound, while she prepared Benji's dinner.

The little guy was sitting underneath the kitchen table, banging wooden blocks together that over a decade ago were used to teach Ash basic spelling.

When the landline rang, Ash picked up the phone, easily balancing it between her head and shoulder, not pausing her vegetable chopping.

She was about to offer a greeting when she heard the automated voice start to play.

“This call is from a person currently in a prison in Pine Point. All calls are logged and recorded and may be listened to by a member of Prison staff. If you do not wish to accept this call, please hang up now.”

She slammed the phone back onto the receiver. No way in hell was she talking to her dad.

It was around 20 minutes later, dinner currently finishing up in the oven, when the phone rang again.

Picking it up again, it was her mum this time.

“Ash, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I have to stay late, can you take care of dinner?”

“Yeah, I’m already on it. I’ll save you some leftovers. Do you know when you’ll get off?”

A sigh came from the other end “I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“It’s no biggie”, she said, not sure if she meant it.

“Don’t wait up for me, okay? Love you honey”

“Love you, too, mum”, then the line went dead, the signature beeps indicating that her mum had hung up.

Benji was now running around the living room, a blanket cape tied around his neck, so Ash easily plocked him off the ground when he ran by her, making an airplane noise when she swung him around once.

“Alright superman, let’s get you cleaned up now so you can play some more after dinner, yeah?”

Benji struggled against her grip, clearly disliking the idea of having to stop whatever make-believe game he was playing, already making a face that could only mean an incoming tantrum.

“I’ll let you take the bubble boat into the bath if you’re good”

Ah, the humble bubble boat, a simple blue red and white plastic toy that would move forward via soap bubbles, and Ash's biggest joker when it came to getting Benji to enjoy bath time.

As expected, it worked like a charm, so now she sat at the scratched up table with a squeaky clean toddler, trying to get him to eat not only the noodles but the vegetables too.

When they finished she kept her promise of letting Benji play for a little longer while she cleaned up, deciding to take on the dirty dishes today as well, instead of just piling new ones on top.

Afterwards she got Benji down and then plopped into her own bed, exhausted from the long day.

It’s weird. Two years ago she was a semi-normal teenager with all the freedom that came with that title, and now she had to structure her life around a 3 year old.

She loved Benji, God of course she did, she loved her brother to no end, but it could be suffocating. 

Still, she’d take care of a hundred little brothers if the alternative was to have her dad still haunting her every thought, a constant threat in her own home, a presence that promised to take more and more until she’d completely break down.

Bile rose up in her throat as the memories started to resurface again, cold hands, a whispered threat and the force behind his every movement.

Even with him miles away and locked up tight, she sometimes still feared that he might appear in her doorway with his belt loose and his breath carrying the smell of one too many beers.

Deciding that she needed to drown out these thoughts sooner rather than later she grabbed her headphones and turned on music. Loud. 

She didn't hear when her mum came home that day, and when she no doubt peeked into her room to see if she’s asleep already she would have found her out cold, the headphones haphazardly shoved off of her, still blasting music loud enough to be heard all the way from the doorway.

Maybe the stars aligned in a way they just haven’t for the past weeks or maybe Sal accidentally found out a secret word sequence that finally unlocked the nice part in Travis brain or maybe it was just bologna day, but this morning, when Sal walked into english class to slink into his seat next to Travis he actually got him to talk.

“Good morning Travis”

“Sally Face”, he gave him a short nod in lieu of a proper greeting but Sal would take his small victories.

Careful not to undo this progress Sal said nothing else until well into today's lesson when he yet again needed help with what their teacher assigned them

‘These violent delights have violent ends’ the words on Sal’s paper read.

“Travis?”

He only received a grunt in response but it sounded affirmative enough that Travis would entertain his question.

“What does the friar mean by ‘violent delights’”

Travis stopped writing for a second so he could shoot Sal a sideways glance, then looked back at his paper, “love”

“He’s telling Romeo that his love is violent?”

“He warns him that his intense love for Juliet can end in tragedy.”

“That’s kind of stupid advice”

That made Travis stop his work again and this time turn to Sal, “what?”

“I think that his advice is stupid.”

“He ended up being right, you know, they, and several others, died because of their love.”

“I guess…”, Sal considered this, “but that’s kind of an extreme, there’s no way anyone could have known that at that point. But just straight up telling him not to love because it could end badly is stupid. I mean, even if it might end badly, it’s still worth it to try, no?”

“He’s not telling him not to love at all, asshat”, Travis rolled his eyes, “he’s telling him to dial it down and love in moderation”

“I’m not sure I like that much better. I think you should love the people you love with everything you got”

“I don’t care what you think, faggot”

Hm. Sounds like there’s no reasoning with Travis on this. Sal understood Romeo's thoughts much better. He could see how the joy of seeing Juliet outweighed the risk for him.

He scribbled as much down on his paper and for the rest of the class doodled around on his page. People with triangle or square heads adorned the edges of the page, then he drew a little monster sporting a frown and lastly an old man.

Then, as if taking on life, his little doodles suddenly started talking to him. They were saying things about the great beast that mauled their ancestors and the old man he drew warned him about the sun burning out. In the mix of more doodles and scratches he did not remember drawing he found a prophet that teleported him to a blank page where he aimlessly wandered around until he found a tear in the paper.

Touching it he suddenly jerked upright, looking around class a little disoriented. Damn, he must have fallen asleep. 

Their teacher didn’t seem to notice and went on and on about stuff Sal couldn’t really pay attention to after the weird dream until the bell finally rang, signalling that the class was over.

Neither him nor Travis said goodbye as they left.

Sal quickly made his way to the cafeteria, finding his friends easily. Chug was already halfway through his bologna sandwich, the rest of the group definitely set on avoiding this lunch option at all costs, discussing how it had a weird smell.

“I thought last weeks was a little off-putting but it seems to be worse this week”, Todd agreed.

Larry leaned in to whisper his theory, “I heard it’s made from goat meat”

“Didn’t a bunch of kids call in sick the day after bologna day last week, too?”, Sal asked, eyeing the sandwich on his tray with apprehension.

Chug swallowed his bite and then asked if they could drop it and not ruin lunch for him, since it’s his favourite part of the school day. Then he took another bite.

Deciding to let Chug enjoy whatever it is he enjoyed about the sandwich, Ash, Larry, Todd and Sal decided to go investigate, leaving the green haired boy with Maple.

“Okay, let’s find out what’s wrong with this bologna. Maybe it was just a bad batch of beef or it’s expired or something?”, Sal started as they got up.

“Or bad goats. I’m telling you, dude, the shit is funky. Doesn’t taste like no beef to me”, Larry stuck out his tongue in disgust.

“The product is most like a blend of low cost meat components from different sources”, Todd explained, ever the analytical.

“Todd, man, you’re making my stomach turn”, Larry made a face to emphasize his point. Sal nodded along, also feeling a little unwell.

“This is like the hotdog incident all over again”, Ash joked, hiding her chuckle behind her hand.

"I hope not!”, Larry shuddered.

“Sal might be onto something”, Todd saved them from derailing the conversation, “There could be an issue with the meat. I’d like to look at our sandwiches in the science lab and see if I can find any bacteria or signs of expiration.”

Sounded disgusting enough to Sal, who quickly exchanged a look with Larry to make sure they were on the same page on this. They were.

“However,”, Todd continued, “it would be helpful to know what the exact ingredients are.”

“Okay”, Sal clapped his hands together, “Ash, you go with Todd to help him in the lab. Larry and I will try to get more information on the bologna.”

“Sounds like a plan”, Ash easily agreed and gathered her hair to put it up in a hairclip. Sal and Larry often referred to this as sport mode. Ash meant business.

They split up and Larry and him started to walk over to the lunch lady.

She honest to god looked a little worse for wear, she always had a reputation of looking like she barely showered but Sal had always assumed it might be the kitchen grease that caused this. But looking at her now it was clear she had some kind of nasty eye infection that also made the left side of her face swell up. It looked painful at best and unhygienic to still let her work at the cafeteria at worst. Sal decided not to bring it up, instead asking if she could tell them where the school gets the bologna from.

“Why you want to know about bologna, eh? Something wrong with Kim’s cooking?”, she took immediate offense.

Sal tried to come up with an excuse why they were asking but Kim immediately shut them down again, telling them to sit back down and stop asking questions.

“You think we could at least see the package or-”, Larry tried his luck.

“No packages for you”, Kim crossed her arms, "just butts in chairs. Go on”

Well, that was a failure. But they wouldn’t give up that easily!

They passed Travis, who was enjoying his own bologna sandwich, maybe even more than Chug did, on their way out of the cafeteria. Sal waving to him as they passed his lunch table and getting flipped off in return, they decided they were gonna get behind where the bologna came from one way or another. 

Ash and Todd always worked well together in the lab. 

They made quick work of disassembling the sandwich, daring to touch it now that they were wearing gloves.

They cut it up small enough to fit on the glass slide and turned on the microscope light.

“I hope Chug doesn’t get sick, he was really digging into his bologna”

“Hard to say”, Todd pushed up his glasses with the palm of his hand, “but as far as I know everyone that got sick last week quickly recovered”

Ash just nodded, then cut up more samples so they could look at a variety of pieces. If it really was a blend or several animals, goats not excluded apparently, it might be good to look at different sections.

After some time the door to the lab opened and Sal and Larry came in.

“Hey guys, we found some sketchy things in Packertson’s desk”, Sal shared, “How are the tests coming?”

“We’re not getting any signs of harmful chemicals or bacteria”, Todd explained, and Ash would have to just trust Todd's judgement on this since they didn’t have any other samples to compare theirs to and she definitely didn’t know what bacteria would be harmful.

However, I think we can all agree there is something peculiar going on here”, Todd said when he saw Sal and Larry looking almost disappointed that they didn’t find anything more flashy.

“Whatever it is,”, Ash now spoke up, “let’s not mention it to Chug for now. The poor kid almost had a heart attack when they stopped serving meatloaf.”

Larry agreed easily, “yeah, let’s keep this under wraps until we know for sure what’s going on”

“Looks like we got our hands full then!”, Sal nodded.

Ash could see the sparkle in his eyes as he said this, Sal always loved investigating stuff that seemed strange to him. The story of how they solved the murder in Addisons apartment when Sal freshly moved in was their favourite to tell, and not just because it was the origin story of how they became friends.

Ash always had her doubts about the details of that story, specifically the supernatural aspects of it. But she’d play along and act like she totally believed them and of course they talked to ghosts to solve the case. They somehow even got Todd to play along.

In all honesty the only part of the story she believed in was the police being completely incompetent and on top of that rude. It matched with her own experience with Nockfell's judiciary.

“Sorry guys, I’m gonna miss the action again. I have to watch Ben until my mum gets home”, Ash was starting to clean up their little experiment now, “Maybe I can help out after that though…”

If her mum came home on time - not early, just on time - she might be able to walk over to Addisons after all and join in on the fun. It sucked only ever hearing about the wacky adventures afterwards and having to guess which details were true and which were made up.

When school ended that day, Ash bid her friends goodbye with another promise to drop by later if she could and then got on the bus.

Propping her knees up against the seat in front of her she tried to finish whatever homework she could on the ride home, since she’d have her hands full with Benjo soon enough.

She got off two stops before where she got on the bus so she could walk the rest of the way to pick up Benji from Kindergarten.

Her little guy was playing outside, stick in hand and whacking at the taller patches of grass when she arrived.

Ash quickly greeted Benji’s teacher who handed her a drawing Benji did today.

Most of the time Benji only drew colourful scribbles so she was surprised to see actual shapes taking form on the paper. It showed a small person made of two wonky circles, with purple hair and a yellow plus sign on her grey body. She figured it must be one of the other kids at Benji's Kindergarten, but what caught her off guard was what he drew around her.

On each side as well as above and below were what Ash was sure were drawings of teeth.

They were surprisingly well drawn given Benji's small age and she almost wanted to ask the teacher if someone there helped him draw them or if they have stencils for that but when she looked up the teacher had already left again.

She called out to her little brother and watched as he trotted over.

“I found a frog today”, he said instead of a greeting.

“No way”, Ash entertained him, “what did he look like”

Benji started blabbering about his day and Ash gave the teacher a small wave as they left.

Instead of straight home, Ash led them to the playground near the park. She figured it was a nice enough day outside to let Benji exhaust himself here instead of scrambling for activities back home.

The park had a few visitors, but the playground rarely ever got any traffic.

It was pretty run down and honestly didn’t look that inviting to kids anymore with its dull, sun-faded colours and graffiti tags everywhere.

But it would have to do.

Upon getting closer to it, Ash spotted someone on the jungle gym though.

Blond hair was whipping around in the wind and green sneakers dangled off the edge. 

Travis.

He looked almost wistful with the cigarette in his hand and the abandoned scenery around him.

Without thinking too much about it, Ash grabbed her camera from her bag and snapped a picture, absentmindedly shaking it around once it printed.

The flash and sound must have alerted Travis to her and Benji's presence however, as he looked over with a sour expression and then stubbed out the cigarette on the sole of his shoe.

He quickly made his way over so Ash gave his little brother a little push, asking him to go play, won’t he?

Stopping in front of her, Travis held out his hand and Ash looked at it dumbly for a second. It seemed Travis didn’t have any more patience to spare for her than he usually did so he snagged the picture out of her hands and looked at it. The air around them felt strange, less hostile than normally, but maybe that was just because neither of them had said anything yet.

“Sorry”, Ash broke the silence, not knowing what else to say, “I don’t know why I took it”

“Who’s the kid?”,  Travis asked, not looking up, “I thought you got rid of it” 

Ash's mood immediately soured. If Benji wasn’t here she might have half a mind to take a swing at him for the comment. As it is though, she only drew back her arm, fist raised, showing her intention and to her surprise, Phelps actually flinched at the gesture.

“That’s my brother, you asshole”, she grumbled then lowered her fist again and made a move to take the picture back from his hands. But Travis moved it out of her reach with a click of his tongue and an angry look.

“I’ll be taking this”, he said and shoved the polaroid into his jacket pocket, “don’t tell anyone you saw me here.”

And with that he left.

Ash pulled a face and gave a mock wave when he had turned away from her completely, then went to sit down on the bench next to the playground to watch Benji.

Taking out her notebook she finished up the homework she started on the bus and it wasn’t long before she had to tell Benji he’d have two more minutes to play before they would have to head home.

She put away her now finished schoolwork again and made sure to properly store away Benji’s drawing too, so it wouldn’t crease.

She thought about hanging it up on the fridge once they got home since this was by far the most detailed drawing he ever made but something about it creeped her out a little. She’d let mum decide what to do with it.

Taking Benji by the hand they made their way home again and Ash let him help with dinner by stirring the sauce and taste-testing.

Soon enough she heard keys jingle in the door and she almost jumped in joy.

“I’m home”, her mum called and Benji immediately jumped off the little stool he stood on to see above the kitchen counter and ran to her.

Ash cleaned her hands on the kitchen rag and then leaned in the archway to the kitchen to greet her mum as well.

“How was work?” 

“Same old”, she replied as she picked up Benji to give him a little squeeze, “I’m just happy to see my two favourite people now”

“I got dinner ready, but if it’s okay with you I’d like to go meet some friends and maybe eat later?”

“Sure, honey, you’re free to go! Thank you for cooking”

“It’s nothing special”, Ash said as she quickly put on her shoes, “also check out Benji's drawing, it’s on the table”

Her mum nodded and gave her a kiss on the forehead in goodbye, then Ash started walking to Addisons.

As the old building came into view, Ash remembered her first time coming here. Back then it was because Todd was tutoring her before an exam to make sure she’d pass. She remembers being kind of freaked out the first time she entered, the building felt a little off or like someone was always watching her, but she quickly chalked it up to paranoia she still had from the whole debacle with her dad.

Now, when she walked through the door, it felt more familiar and she found Larry’s mum, Lisa, tinkering with the light in the hallway that never seemed to stop flickering, no matter how many times she replaced the lightbulb.

“Hi Lisa”, Ash greeted her easily, “light giving you trouble again?”

“Ash, sweetie, perfect timing! Can you hand me that new bulb over there?”, Lisa asked, holding out her hand.

“Sure thing”, Ash grabbed the new lightbulb and placed it in Liss hand and then watched as she screwed it in and the light came on again, this time without the flicker.

Lisa smiled at her work and thanked Ash as she rubbed the dirt off her hands on the legs of her work overall, “if you’re looking for the boys I think they went to Todd's place.”

Ash nodded at that and made her way to the elevator.

Entering apartment 202 she found Todd's parents cuddling on the couch. The smell of weed filled the entire room, leaving no doubt in Ash's mind that they were high as kites right now.

She gave a warm smile as she greeted them but somehow managed not to get pulled into a philosophical discussion with them so she slipped into Todd's room, finding him typing away at his computer.

“Yo Todd! What did I miss?”

“I could tell you but I doubt you’ll believe me when I bring up the ghosts”

Ash laughed at that, “you know me too well! But I’m here now. You could prove it to me”

“I’m afraid I’m busy, but Sal and Larry had me stop the recording of the security camera outside so they can check out Mrs. Packerton's apartment next door. You might want to join them”

“Hell yeah, some good old breaking and entering, sounds fun!”, she turned to leave again, “see you later, Todd”

She quietly closed the apartment door behind herself as well and then looked at the door with the number 201 on the plaque. 

It’s where Mrs Packerton lives. Whatever the pair had found in her drawer at school earlier must have been more interesting than they let on if they’re snooping around her apartment now.

She pushed the door open and immediately was hit in the face with a stench so strong it brought tears to her eyes. It smelled of death and rot and it took everything in Ash to push forward and into the apartment.

At first glance, the room looked normal enough, some old furniture, a painting of a farm.

She pulled her shirt over her nose in an attempt to fight against the smell and looked around further.

When the kitchen came into view, her heart dropped into her stomach. There, on the checkered floor tile, was a puddle of blood, and Ash wasn’t sure she wanted to know who’s blood it was.

“What the fuck”, she whispered to herself as she walked closer to it. Looking up it seemed to come from the freezer. 

What the hell was she doing here?

Gathering all her courage she opened the freezer door only to immediately jump back at the sight that greeted her.

A severed goat head, with its tongue sticking out laid in a small puddle of its own blood that slowly trickled down and out of the freezer onto the floor. If Sal and Larry had put that thing here to scare her, then they’d be in big trouble.

Horrified, she grabbed at her camera and snapped a pic, then quickly closed the door again, not wanting to look at the animal head any longer. 

She heard voices coming from the first door to the left so she pressed her ear against it, listening in. She could barely make it out but was relieved when she heard the familiar voices.

“I love you, dude”, she heard Larry's gravelly voice.

“I love you too, man. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, you know?”, Ash smiled at Sal’s sappy response.

“Same to you little bud”

At that she slowly pushed the door open and saw the two of them kneeling behind the dresser, Sal holding on to his pigtails for dear life and Larry with his arms raised protectively over the two of them.

“Hey, sorry to ruin the moment, but what the hell is this place?”, Ash asked as she looked at them.

They immediately scrambled up with heavy breaths.

“Ashley! You scared the crap out of us!”, Sal whined.

“I can see that", try as she might, she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. They were really spooked.

Larry ran a hand through his long hair, “Heh, man, am I glad to see you, Ash. I thought we were done for”

“I thought you had to watch Benjamin”, Sal’s hands still trembled a bit and Ash was beginning to feel bad for scaring them this bad, maybe they weren’t just pranking her.

“My mum came home early so I came over here straight away. Sorry for giving you guys a scare, I-”, she started looking around and then her eyes landed on the bed at the end of the room.

Strapped to the bed was a pale and sick looking man in nothing but his underwear, a breathing mask tied around his face and a machine she only ever saw in hospitals next to the bed. It was clear that the stench in the whole apartment was coming from him.

“Is that… Mr Packerton?”, she asked, a hand flying to her mouth, “is he…?”

“It was him”, Sal explained, “He’s gone now”

“Finally at peace”, Larry added wistfully.

“Damn”, Ash had never seen a dead person before. This was fucked up.

Then she turned to the two boys again, realization dawning on her.

“Please don’t tell me that this is what’s going into the bologna…”, her stomach turned at the mere thought.

“I hope not”, Larry said with a shudder, being just as queasy as Ash.

“I’m not sure.”, Sal shook his head, “There’s still one room we haven’t looked at, we need to get in there before we leave.

“Lucky for us”, Larry piped up as he raised his hand and let a key ring dangle from it, “look what I found under that dresser when we were hiding”

“One of those has to be for the other room!”, Sal exclaimed and made grabby motions at it, so Larry handed it over, “Let’s check it out”

“Anything to get out of this room”, Ash said with a shudder and quickly ushered them out, firmly closing the door behind them.

She held her breath as Sal slipped the key into the lock and turned it, “We’re in!”, whatever was beyond that door could not possibly be worse than seeing Mr. Packerton like that, cuffed to all four corners of the bed, reeking of death.

The door swung open and they were met with a room that smelled just as bad. Water damage had done its part on the walls that held a shelf filled with pickling jars and candles.

Above it were countless newspaper clippings of missing children. The same once that made their rounds on the blackboard at school before eventually being taken down when after weeks and weeks of nobody having any clues, they gave up on finding the kids again.

In between them were drawings of symbols. Looking at the picture she took of the goat's head earlier, Ash noticed that the top of the freezer had the same signs carved into its wall.

Next to the collection of paper clips hung several tools from the wall, an axe, a hacksaw, a big pair of pliers. All tools that would look perfectly normal in any other context but now made Ash's hair stand up on her arms.

At the end of the room was what scared the trio the most though; an old meat grinder suspended on a wooden table.

“This room gives me the creeps, man”, Larry said.

“Me too”, Ash agreed, as her gaze fell on a freezer chest with blood marks on it, “it’s major creepsville in here”

Sal walked to the freezer, fiddling with the combination lock for a little bit, trying out the usual 0000 or 1234 which didn’t work.

He tried around some more combinations until they eventually heard a click.

Gathering next to the smaller boy, Ash and Larry peeked over his shoulder as he opened the freezer.

Larry immediately covered his mouth with his hand as he started gagging, Ash froze in shock.

Laying in front of them in the freezer were countless sheets of skin. Some were unidentifiable, but others looked like a way too realistic halloween mask. Scattered in between were more pickling jars that held mismatched eyeballs, cut off at the nerves, as well as bloody organs. 

The smell of clotted blood mixed with the sight of what undoubtedly was human flesh became too much for Larry who promptly threw up bile on the carpeted floor.

Ashley silently thanked god that she didn’t eat before she left, otherwise she would have followed suit. 

Sal hadn’t said a word yet, but silently reached for Ash's hand. She squeezed back in what she hoped was reassurance.

“We…”, she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “we’re in way over our heads here… we need to get help”

It took a few seconds before Sal answered her, but the words were haunting.

“There are no bones”

“What?”, she let go of him to hug herself.

“There aren’t any bones in here, it’s all just…meat”

“Dude, no, come on”, Larry risked another look into the freezer but instantly had to throw up again as the sight as well as Sal's words sunk in.

This was worse than mixed or expired meat. Hell, she’d rather they’d have found deadly bacteria on those samples than this fucking shit. What the fuck!?

“Ash is right, we should get help”, Larry said, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Don’t you see? There is no one who can help us. Every time something happens here, it’s covered up!”, Sala argued, his voice getting more panicky with each passing word, “The cult, Luke, Mrs Sanderson… who knows what else this place had hidden. We can’t trust the cops and we can’t tell our parents because they’ll wanna go to the police. They haven’t believed anything we told them.”

Ash was wholly lost about what Sal was talking about but spoke up anyway, “Then what do we do?”

“I don't know man”, Larry said, "things just keep getting worse. Packerton’s chopping up people and… serving them…to…ugh”, he was going to  throw up again.

“I don’t think I’ll ever look at bologna the same again…”, Sal rubbed at his eyes through the holes in his prosthetic.

“Let me get some more pictures while we’re still here”, Ash said and with shaky hands tried to get as much evidence into her shot as possible, she was slowly running out of film.

The boys agreed easily and decided to look around a little more and put back the stuff they moved so as to not alert suspicion when Mrs. Packerton returned. Merci-killing her husband by pulling the plug would probably be enough evidence that someone was in here but they didn’t have to make it worse.

After snapping two more pictures, curiosity also got the better of Ash and she started looking inside drawers and behind pictures as well.

Nothing she would find now could possibly be worse than the freezer full of human meat and the goat head. She felt like she had seen it all by now.

She was checking the tasteless farm painting that hung above the couch when she felt it come loose.

Almost dropping it in surprise, she was glad it was cushioned by the couch she was standing on.

Revealed in the wall now, however, was a metallic chute, like one would use for laundry.

“Hey, guys, come look at this”, she yelled out, and her friends stopped what they were doing to see what she had found, “there’s some kind of trash chute hiding behind that painting”

“That's weird, this building doesn't have trash chutes”, Larry observed, and he would know, he had helped out Lisa with keeping the building up and running for years.

“It doesn’t look like it goes outside”, Ash stuck her head inside the flap, her voice echoing of the metal now, “there’s no light coming in”

“Be careful, Ash”, Sal warned, ever the worry ward.

“I wonder where it leads…”, Ash said as she leaned in further, leaning her hands on the hatch so she could suspend herself in the air to get a better look.

Then she lost her grip and with a yelp, she was suddenly falling down the long shaft. She heard Sal and Larry yell her name in panic and tried to somehow stop her fall but before she knew it, she hit her head on the metal wall and everything went black

When she came to, Ash felt two strong pairs of hands hoisting her up, hollow clacking noises filling her ears and a chill went through her body.

“...huh?”, she tried to look around, her vision was a little blurry, but her eyes fell on old dark walls and floors, columns climbing up to the high ceilings, rusty crackle holders and lastly, a pile of bones she had apparently landed on, “Wha- What's going on? Where- Where are we?”

“Dude”, relief filled Larry's voice, “You fell down the stupid trash chute. I thought we lost you for good!”

“I’m so glad we found you”, Sal almost looked more shaken than Ash felt, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I think so”, Ash assured him,” Just a little fuzzy… and sore… no broken bones” her gaze wandered to the pile of bones that feathered her fall again and gulped, “Well, none of mine at least”

Larry knocked his fist against her shoulder, “heh, man, Ash, you wouldn’t believe what we went through to find you! It’s all thanks to Sally. He had one of these vision thingies and then he found this old cellar door in the basement and then we went down these long creepy stairs and then we found this crazy ass cult temple or some shit down here and then there were all these puzzles and traps and mazes and…”, the rambling stopped as his eyes went wide, “Todd! Todd is holding the front gate open for us! We should go back there.”

Only half of what Larry just dumped on her registered in her mind, and not just because she hit her head earlier.

So they were in an old cult temple right now? And Sally apparently had a vision of some sort that told them this? This is exactly why their little ghost hunting stories were so hard to believe, but… looking around now and feeling the strange aura of this place… maybe the stories weren’t entirely made up.

“Wow”, she eventually blinked, her vision finally clearing up, “this is…so much to take in. I can’t believe all of this is right under the apartments” she carefully let her fingers run over the old wall, “thanks for coming for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys”

As she said it, it really sunk in. If they hadn’t managed to…find the cellar and the stairs, and the puzzles and mazes and… everything Larry was going on about, she would probably have been stuck here. 

That thought followed her the whole way out of the temple, she had no idea how Larry or Sal remembered which way to go, dark hallways and run-down arches twisting and winding, they all looked the same to her.

She was glad when they finally spotted Todd's orange curls, just outside an iron gate, he gave her a small wave. 

Once they stepped through the big entrance, Todd stepped off the tile that was set into the ground, and when it plopped back up without his weight to hold it down, the iron gate rushed shut behind them.

Ash flinched at the loud noise and looked at the entrance.

“MAY OUR SIGHT PIERCE THE HEAVENS AND OUR REACH BE INFINITE AND EVERLASTING” was carved into the stone arch that holds the metal gate.

Ash didn’t know what to make of that, but it might be useful. She went to grab her camera but cringed when she looked down at it. Definitely broken. 

“Oh, damn, that doesn’t look good”, Larry noticed her fiddling with the broken parts.

Ash felt tears forming in her eyes. It was stupid to cry about her broken camera considering everything else that just happened but she couldn’t help it.

Todd peered over her shoulder, pushed his glasses up and nodded, “I can probably fix that for you”

She whipped her head around at him, “Really?” Please please please please please

“Sure”, he shrugged, “I can also modify it some, like I did with Sal’s gear boy. Could come in handy if you’re on board with ghost hunting in the future”

“Oh cool!”, Sal piped up, “he’s also tinkering with my guitar.”

“Okay”, Ash agreed, and handed the broken apparatus over to Todd, “Thank you”

Todd gave her a nod and then they made their way to the huge staircase, climbing all the way to the top while Larry recounted what they saw down there, and ending up in a room that looked like every other apartment in Addisons, except without furniture.

Larry reached out to close the trapdoor that hid the staircase to the temple and Sal kicked at the rolled up carpet to conceal it again.

“So what are we going to do about all of this?”, Ash asked, wringing her hands together, “Mrs. Packerton has killed a lot of people. And the bologna…ugh. We can’t just ignore this.”

“Definitely not”, Todd shook his head, “judging by what you guys have told me about the inner rooms of the temple and about Mrs. Packerton's apartment, it could be possible that she has gotten herself wrapped up in the occult as well. Even if the congregation has long since dissolved, she could have stumbled upon this door, just as we have”

“Or maybe she’s the last remaining member”, Sal snapped his fingers, “trying to carry out whatever their plan was on her own”

“You don’t think she’s trying to bring the red eyed demon back, do you?”

Oh! Ash had definitely heard them talk about that before! Larry was convinced that this “red eyed demon” had latched onto him or cursed him or something and was responsible for all the bad stuff that happened to him like his dad leaving when he was younger.

She also recalled the boys blaming this demon for a man that killed his entire family and then himself when they lived here. What was his name again? Leo? Or Lucas or…wait. Luke. Sal had mentioned him earlier today! 

“Hopefully not”, Sal rand a hand through his choppy bangs, “but we’ll be prepared if she does”

“Man, we need to stop her, preferably, like, before that happens”, Larry said, looking off to the side.

“i know going to the local police isn’t an option. Maybe we should call the state police or the FBI or something”, Ash reasoned, taking on the role of reason. This was way above their non-existent pay-grade, “at least this time our parents can’t deny what’s happening. They’ll believe us once we show them what’s below this building and what Packerton has been doing.

“Ash is right”, Todd nodded, “we should get our parents involved this time”

Thank god Todd was keeping a cool head as well.

“Maybe we should just kill her”, Larry mumbled the suggestion, but they all heard anyway.

“What?!”, Sal asked, sounding about as shocked as Ash felt.

“Mrs Packerton”, Larry shrugged, “maybe we should just kill her. She’s old so it shouldn’t be that hard”

Okay… so Larry has lost his mind. Got it.

“We can’t just kill someone, Larry”, Sal hissed, “then we’d be no better than her”

“Normally”, Todd now spoke up, “I would be against harming others. But in this case Larry might be right”

“Todd, Larry, seriously you guys?”, Ash couldn’t believe them.

Todd removed his glasses to clean them on his shirt, “think about all of the strange, inexplicable occurrences that happen in Addison Apartments and in Nockfell in general. The more I think about it the less likely it becomes that Mrs. Packerton is acting alone. She must be getting outside help”, he placed his glasses on top of his nose again, “it would explain the police cover-ups of Charley and the Holmes family murders. There’s no telling how far this corruption reaches.”

Ash's jaw was on the ground by now. They could not possibly be serious about this.

Yes, the way the whole Charley thing was covered up was concerning to say the least.

Nothing in the police file Todd was able to dig up about the incident matched what had happened here in reality, the police officers working the case weren’t registered and the picture of Charley they had in that file was definitely not the old shut-in that had lived in 204 before. 

And the Holmes family had been a well known Nockfell unsolved case for years.

But… but… well…

“God damn”, Larry rubbed at his face.

“I guess that makes sense”, Ash heard herself say, even though the whole thing still felt ludicrous to her. But Todd was one of the smartest people she knows… if he thought it a good idea then maybe…

Sal looked at her with wide eyes now though, apparently just as surprised about her change of mind, so she tried to explain herself, “Sal, you were saying something similar earlier today, too. I don’t know. Maybe this does fall on us to take care of.”

At that, Sal hung his head, “...maybe”

“You know”, Ash now chuckled to herself, humourlessly, “the biggest worries normal teenagers have are about petty things like being popular or having nice hair.”

“Well you already have the nice hair”, Larry joined in, trying to lighten the mood.

“Maybe we should sleep on this”, Sal decided, “it’s already pretty late and we’ve been through a lot today”

“You’re right”, Ash agreed. Sleeping on it sounded like the best idea they’ve had so far. She was exhausted beyond belief. It must be nearly morning already.

“Come on, Ash”, Larry waved for her to follow, “I’ll drive you home”

The next morning, Ash could not believe her eyes when he stepped into the kitchen and saw the front page of the local newspaper.

“Beloved Nockfell High School Teacher Killed By Drunk Driver”

She quickly skimmed over the text, it didn’t mention anything about the dead bodies in her apartment or how she had been feeding the students human flesh but it did say that both she and the drunk driver that t-boned her were killed on impact.

Ash couldn’t help but think that this felt like another all too convenient cover up.

Travis was blowing on the steam emanating from his spoon, neither him nor his father had spoken much during dinner so far and it was becoming more than uncomfortable.

“How are you feeling, Travis?”, his father finally broke the silence but the question felt so out of place coming from his father, that Travis almost choked on his soup.

“I’m well, how are you, father?”, he tried to quickly compose himself and also promptly sat up a little straighter. He didn’t want to seem disrespectful.

“How is your back?”, his father prodded. Another weird question, he usually never brought up Travis injuries or bruises and it made Travis feel like a fish out of water, not knowing what his father wanted to hear.

“I think it's almost healed”, he tried carefully, eyeing his father's reaction; the way his brows slightly rose, the glance to Travis' shoulder where a little bit of green and blue still poked out under his shirt, “I haven’t really looked at it”

“Let me see”, his father said and now Travis really didn’t know what to do. 

"Uh…now?", he asked dumbly, putting down his spoon next to his half empty bowl.

His father gave a single nod and Travis could see impatience fleet across his face, so he quickly spun around in his chair and lifted his shirt as best as he could. He didn’t know what caused more chills, the cold air now hitting his exposed skin or his fathers gaze analyzing the mostly healed cuts and bruises. It made Travis feel more vulnerable than straight up blows to his face.

“Good”, his father finally commented, which Travis took as a sign that he could cover up and face his father again, “you were pretty out of it that night”

“Sorry, Father”, Travis looked at his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. There was a piece of dead skin right next to his nail and he started pulling on it mindlessly until he could feel a familiar sting and then saw that it started bleeding. Fuck.

“Do you remember anything from that night?”, his fathers eyes scanned him, no doubt looking for any sign of whether Travis was about to lie to him or not. 

Travis closed his eyes, trying to recreate what had happened, as if his memories would magically return to him. 

“We drove to church”, he started, feeling exposed under his fathers intense gaze, “the other members were there and… I think I passed out”

"That's it?”, his father asked, one brow raised and sounding…bored? Annoyed? 

“I’m sorry, I know I was supposed to help and instead I burdened you”, Travis hoped they could drop it now. Normally he could navigate conversations with his father pretty well, knowing what he wanted to hear or how he could spin a lie that would let him off the hook, but this? This was all new and he had no idea if he was giving the correct answers.

“That’s disappointing, Travis”, his father decided, leaning back in his chair, dinner long forgotten.

Travis swallowed heavily and nodded, still not meeting his fathers eyes.

“You’ll come with me again tonight”, his father informed him then, “I want you to be involved more in what goes on behind the scenes”

Travis nodded again, more enthusiastically this time, “okay, Father”

They finished up quickly and Travis took care of the dishes while his father gathered books and knicknacks he planned on bringing.

The car ride over was quiet, the car radio hadn’t worked for years but the absence of background music never got less noticeable. Travis said a few prayers that his father wouldn’t try to make conversation again, which must have worked to get him on God's good side for today because neither of them said a word until the gravel that lined the drive up to the ministry crunched under the car's tires.

They got out and his father pushed open the heavy wooden doors, drawing several sets of eyes of other members of the church that were already here.

He made quick but polite conversation with some of them before hurrying them to the backrooms and unlocking both the old wooden closet and the heavy lock around the trapdoor in the ground, lifting it to reveal a long staircase.

Travis grabbed and threw on the robe from the closet as he had many times before. They had to wear these every time they entered the cave system that laid beneath the church, something about the structure being so old and not wanting to damage it by bringing in dirt from outside. It was a bit like wearing a labcoat in a lab, at least that’s how it was explained to him the first time he went down here as a kid. Making sure the hood was covering his hair, he followed his father downstairs.

The air tasted damp and a shiver ran down his spine despite the heavy robe protecting him from the colder temperature down here.

The long halls were illuminated by the old chandeliers that hung from the high ceilings as they passed the familiar red banners and stone obelisks.

The place was filled with history that Travis had to listen to for hours on end back in the day. The members of the faculty were dedicated to keep the old rituals alive in an effort to honour the past and keep the old traditions alive. Travis had helped and participated in countless of these rituals, some bigger some smaller, most of them boring enough to almost put him to sleep.

Once in the main chamber he helped light up all the candles while the other members set up books and thingamajigs that hundreds of years ago were said to hold godly power. 

His father stepped onto the pedestal in the center and raised his arms as he started citing passages in latin. He looked really imposing and impressive and Travis gulped at the thought that one day he’d have to take on that role.

Travis didn’t understand a single word, only knew when to join the chorus and what symbols to draw on the floor in chalk.

Half an hour later he could feel a headache coming on again, a pressure just behind his left eye, probably from the old air and his fathers booming voice. Needless to say Travis was more than happy to wrap it up sooner rather than later. 

But the whole ordeal really dragged on, passages were repeated several times and when the lights above started flickering Travis was really hoping they weren’t pushing the limits of these old as hell electric circuits.

But then the air changed, Travis suddenly felt panic, and the lines on his back felt like they were ripping open again, a laring pain like hot iron. His breath started to pick up quickly and his vision started to flicker a little.

Risking a glance at his father, and from what he could see under the mask-like headpiece he always wore for these ceremonies, he saw a determined look set in place, the veins in his neck standing out more than usual, like they did when Travis was about to earn a couple new bruises. Jesus… 

Travis clutched at his head, pulling on his hair a little in an effort to ground himself to reality again despite the inner turmoil. A metallic taste filled his mouth and he lifted a finger to it. Blood was smeared on his fingertips when he looked at them. Was his nose bleeding? Fuck.

As soon as his father dropped his arms again and uttered the last word the whirlwind of emotions that had overcome him went away as quickly as it came.

Travis blinked a couple of times and took another steadying breath. To the other members he must have simply looked like he was deep in prayer with his forehead against the floor and his hands together. His disheveled appearance was luckily covered by the robes hood.

While he helped get everything back into its proper place and made sure all the sacred books were sealed correctly, his father was speaking with some of the other members in hushed tones. The last of the candles were blown out and he watched the too black smoke that emerged from them rise to the ceiling. It made him crave a cigarette.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and his fathers empty smile was directed at him, “good work today, son”

“Thank you, father”, he replied, trying to reciprocate the smile, knowing it didn’t reach his eyes any more than his father’s did.

“You seemed really affected by today's ceremony, what were you feeling?” 

Like shit? Like he was losing control over himself? Like he might pass out again?

“Just…uneasy? Like there was this energy that I didn’t know what to do with it”, he tried to explain instead.

His father nodded at his words thoughtfully, “Very good, let’s go home so you can rest up”

“Okay father”

They made their way back to the car and Travis quickly climbed in, feeling a little spent from the ceremony and leaning his head against the window looking outwards. Once they were on the road, his father spoke up again.

“I’m really proud of you, son”

What?!

Travis almost broke his neck with how fast he whipped his head around to look at his father, “What?!”

“Travis, what you felt today,”, his father started, “that was the spirit flowing through you”

“The Holy Spirit?”, Travis asked, confused, and his father only hummed in response.

“Do you remember the teaching about the second coming of Christ? How God will return to earth once more?”

“Yes, of course”, Travis nodded firmly, then started quoting the bible passage: “God will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will be with the Lord forever”

“The people who built this church believed that these old rituals will summon God, me and the other close members believe so as well. And I also believe that you are the chosen one to finally make the prophecy come true.”

Sorry, what now?

“The chosen one?”, Travis asked in pure disbelief, the words feeling foreign on his tongue.

“You’re very special, Travis,”, his father spoke, sounding so prideful it had Travis sit up straighter, “we are going to achieve something great together.”

“Really?”, Travis still couldn’t wrap his head around it, but at the same time he could feel a smile tug at his lips. He finally did something right for once, and his father was proud of him.