Chapter Text
Chapter One // It’s Beginning to Look Alot Like Christmas!
November quickly passed with amber and bronze leaves in the breeze. The weather dramatically changed as December arrived in blankets of glistening snow. A little town was decorated entirely in Christmas cheer. Lights hung from tiny houses and children’s snowmen sat proudly on front lawns.
Classes finally dismissed for the semester. Stepping out of the classroom, backpack slung lazily around your back, you deeply inhale the crisp air of freedom. You survived another semester of college with your GPA intact and had enough time to attend your jazzercise classes.
You lived alone in a small house that sat at the end of a dirt road located in the outskirts of town. A bit sketchy, but affordable. A few neighbors were scattered throughout the forest. You have only met one or two families in your area. Since you lived alone, you knew it was best to have acquaintances close to you in case of an emergency. At first, you were not supposed to be alone, your boyfriend was going to be moving in with you, but that did not happen.
Car parked in the snowy driveway, footprints lead through the snow to your covered porch. Tossing your heavy backpack across your living room, you entered through the front door and welcomed by a toasty house. Lazily slumping onto your sofa, head resting on one of the cushioned arms, you close your eyes.
Relief at last.
Eyes fluttering open, the creaks and crunches from heavy wind and snow hits your ears. The room was chilly. Goosebumps hastily formed onto your skin. Releasing a very attractive noise while you stretch, you roll off the couch to make your way to the kitchen for a hot drink. Turning your head to a window, curtains slightly covering it, you notice it was dark outside. How long have you been asleep? Good nap, though. Definitely well deserved. As soon as your socked feet hit the tile of the kitchen, the wind picks up dramatically. The lights flicker a few times. Huffing you quickly rush to your fireplace so you would not freeze to death, if the power goes out. You snatched a matchbox from the dusty shelf above the stone covered fireplace. A bit of ash flew as you tossed a few good pieces of wood from your stack next to the hearth.
Amber flames licked the inside of the chimney hungerly. A cup of steaming cocoa, too hot to sip, sat next to you 一you had managed to heat up some milk before the lights fully went out一 while a wooly blanket was draped over your head.
The satisfying scent of the cozy fireplace and boiling cocoa filled the room. Snuggling into your blanket more, you listened to the crackling of fire and wood along with the howls of freezing wind and snow tapping on the rooftop.
With hours passing, you found yourself a good novel and flashlight. It was late. You were not sure of the exact time, but it was late.
There was a grunt.
Sleepy eyes snapping up from your book, you searched the room. You could have sworn…
Another grunt.
Softer this time. It was coming from outside.
Quietly placing your book and light down, you crawl towards a window that viewed the snow-covered front yard.
A silhouette of a person staggered from the tree line. You could not make out their face. But this was definitely a man judging by the broad, burly shape.
The power was out, the phone was dead. You couldn’t call the police, or anyone in that manner. You were alone.
You peaked your eyes over the windowsill, watching the shape stagger closer, holding his face then dropping something unknown behind him in the snow. As he approached closer, you had to plan on how to protect yourself if necessary. Returning to your feet, you scrambled to your room.
You possessed an old shotgun, it was your father’s before he gifted it to you.
Before the man reached the steps to your front porch, you, clad in clunky boots and a giant sweater, kicked the door open, flashlight and weapon pointed at him. You were about to shout something threatening at the man, but he collapsed into the snow. You shined the light at his face, noting dark, tired eyes and blue lips. He blinked a few times, regarding your presence. You could hear his teeth chattering heavily. His hair was shaggy and outgrown, dusted with snowflakes. Outfit was soaked and definitely not for this weather. Frozen snot ran down from his nose. Lifting his head to let those exhausted eyes follow your every move, you step back with caution.
Your fingers were shivering violently around the gun. Was it because of the cold air or the fact that a stranger entered into your property?
Definitely the cold weather. You should have grabbed gloves.
You shook your head from the thought, snow sprinkled onto your head and shoulders. “What are you doing here?” You growled in a deep tone.
No answer.
“I said…”
You shot the gun into the night sky, it kicked into your shoulder a bit painfully. The boom echoed throughout the forest as shockwaves vibrated in your chest.
“What are you doing here?!” You shouted.
He dropped his head, falling unconscious,
Eyes widening, you step closer for inspection, weapon still aimed at the stranger. Was he lost? Maybe mugged and stranded? Perhaps a psycho-murder who escaped an insane asylum on his way to fight his arch enemy?
“Sir, are you okay?” You tapped his snowy shoulder with your foot. “Sir?”
Going against your better judgement, you sling the shotgun around your back. You slowly and carefully grab one of his arms, fully expecting him to snatch at your hair and strangle you. But he didn’t. You flopped his limp limbs over you and pathetically drag the man to the shelter of your porch.
Your plan was to set him on your porch, light the fire pit, grab a quilt, and pray the power comes back soon to call the police to get this weirdo. You were absolutely not welcoming him into your home.
Finally after a few struggling feet of pulling the person to the porch, you drop his arms a bit to roughly. Probably should have lowered them gently. Bending over to catch your breath, you chuckled at the thought of dragging a dead body around. After a minute, you rushed inside for the blanket you were using earlier along with a few dry chunks of wood.
He awoke with a heavy fabric surrounding his being and a strong warmth next to him. Eyes fluttering open just a bit, he let out a heavy, foggy breath, sitting up perfectly straight.
“How was your nap, bud?”
His head shot towards the source of the voice.
You were sat across from him, at a safe distance, blanket wrapped around your legs, gun in lap, the shiny metal illuminated by the fire. You were tired, cold and miserable. But, with your generous and kind heart, you stayed out here with the man.
The fire pit separated you both. The crackles of the fire and the song of the snowstorm created an almost relaxing melody.
“The power’s been out so I can’t call anyone for you.”
He blinked.
You readjusted the gun in your lap, making sure he took note of it. “Why are you out here?”
He blinked again as if he didn’t understand what you were saying.
“Bud, c’mon. This is wicked lame.” You huffed, frustration showing a bit. “I’ve been keeping you warm all night, you could’ve died out there…”
He shifted from his position to face you, half-lidded eyes gazing into your soul.
“Hellooo?” You wave your hand to get his attention. “Can you even speak?”
He blinked again.
He did not have the ability to speak.
Or he just chose not to.
This was a terrible idea.
No, you are a Good Samaritan and this man needed help. He seemed harmless.
“You must be hungry.” You finally broke the silence. He watched you pull out an unopened energy bar and toss it to him. It landed perfectly in his lap. With a delayed reaction, he craned his neck to peer down at the food item between his legs. Slowly and robotically, he picked it up into his large hands.
What did he think it was? He acted like he has never seen food before. You glared at him intently, waiting for him to start munching.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he let green snot dribble down his mouth and chin. Inwardly cringing, you grinned, waiting for him to sniff or wipe his face. Maybe he would like a tissue.
“Would you like a hanky?” You awkwardly smiled again.
You wait for him to reply. The sounds of the wind finally calming and the crunches of the fire filled the silence between you two.
He let out a cough. A loud, guttural cough.
Startled by his sudden noise, you jump back slightly. Finally some feedback.
You lean over to grab the handkerchief you collected earlier and tossed it to your friend.
It landed in his lap, yet it did not phase him. Instead he gazed at you with those dark eyes. Something is wrong with this man. Or maybe he was just awkward? Plain stupid? Perhaps he was infatuated by your smokin’ good looks.
He coughed again. This one was worse than the first one. He was sick. How long was he out there? His eyes drooped, snot collected around his mouth and chin. Gross. His clothes were in bad condition.
“Alright, we’re going inside. I’m cold and you look like you’re dying.” You stood up, gun still in hand. He watched as you open the door and motioned him in with your head. Surprisingly, he followed your signal, blanket hanging around his broad shoulders and energy bar still in hand. Finally, something he understood.
Shutting the door behind you, you spotted him standing in the middle of the living room, admiring your pictures on the mantel. Some were paintings you created, some were photos of your friends from college. He seemed to be infatuated by a small abstract painting. You leaned coolly against the wall.
“It’s yours, if you want it.”
He looked back to you. Coughed a bit, chest heaving.
You ignored his gaze and shined your light at a clock hung on the wall. “It’ll be bright out soon.”
Your new friend gazed around the room some more, until finally sitting in front of the dimming fireplace. He stared at the flickering embers so more snot dripped from his nose.
Still leaning on the wall, weapon in hand, you watched him, eyes growing heavy. You were tired, but not stupid. You kept your eyes aimed on the shape of him. He flopped lazily to his side, letting out an exhausted exhale.
Continuing to sleep on the floor in front of the dying fire, he twitched and grunted a few times. Daylight had finally arrived after an excruciating long night. The power had come back as well, lights flickering before staying on. You sleepily stumbled to the phone in the kitchen, still eyeing the slumbering man.
“Yes, hello?”
You snuck another peek at him.
“This man arrived at my house last night...the power went out last night… and uh..I think he might be hurt or something. Can someone please come by and get him?” You whisper.
You tell the operator your address and hung up the phone, turning to enter the den. He was still asleep. Deciding to let him rest, you wait on the couch. You look at the stranger, then the gun in your lap. You never let it go. Grip tight, knuckles were white. To be honest, you were scared, tired, and anxious, this was the most excitement you’ve had in a few weeks.
There was a quiet knock at your door, your pal stirred in his sleep. You shuffle to the door.
“Good morning, ma’am. We received a call about someone who might be injured.”
Shoulders falling slightly, you nodded and opened the door to show the sleeping man.
The officer’s gaze fell onto you, “where is he?”
You twirl quickly around, facing the living door. “He was right here...hold on really quick.” You left the door open and dashed to the kitchen. Not there. The bathroom. Nope. Laundry room. Nada. Your room. No. You return to the door scratching the back of your head.
“Found him?” The officer sighed, foggy breath floated around his face.
“I literally have no where he went.” You were embarrassed a bit. Where did he go?
“Call again if you find him, we’ll keep an eye out too. He probably just a drunk teen who didn’t wanna be caught.” The officer carelessly said.
All you could do was nod and shut the door. Your eyes traveled to the mantlepiece.
The painting was gone.