Work Text:
February 14th.
Valentine's day,
and how are you spending it?
Breaking your back carrying your belongings uphill on a dirt road in the ass-crack of nowhere because after a nineteen-hour trip, without prior warning, your car decided to tap out half a mile from your destination. The sun above sinking beneath the treetops, a chill in the air, and you'd be damned if you were spending the night crammed into a cold car amongst the trees with whatever the fuck came out to play in the woods at night. So, equipped with a backpack, a suitcase, and two totes worth of groceries you trudged up the 'driveway' of your newly inherited estate. The rustle of plastic and fabric alerting everything within the immediate vicinity of your approach.
Glaring in the direction of the house when it finally crested into view after twelve or so minutes of struggle. Its unkempt visage mocking, a tell that more work was to be done- your struggles had hardly begun. After all the paperwork and confusion, the uprooting and pre-mature celebration, there was still so, so much to be done before you could even consider getting cozy.
Stepping onto a dewy, overgrown lawn you came to a petering halt. Attention titled upward, mouth agape. Luggage released to flatten damp grass as you rounded to the left of the building- the subject of your shock plain to see. There was a huge hole punctured into one side of the house, just above the second story yet beneath a roof made up of damaged shingles, presumably leading into an attic. A 'feature' you hadn't previously been granted the luxury of noticing from afar.
"Fuck."
So, so much indeed.
You're far too exhausted to deal with this bullshit right now.
In an attempt to either circumvent the worsening of or distract entirely from the oncoming headache you could feel panging to life within your cranium, you let out a breath and re-collected your items. The few unsteady steps leading onto the porch creaking ominously as you wrangled your keys, shoulder-checking the front door open. Depositing your things at the doorsteps and leaning against the nearest wall, sliding down to be seated on polished hardwood. Taking a moment to rest, eyes cold and achy behind your eyelids. Unsurprising, seeing as you hadn't caught a moment of reprieve at any time throughout your journey. The eagerness to finally inhabit any space other than some overpriced, ratty, two-hundred-something-square-foot apartment having outweighed your impending lethargy.
it was worth it, it would be worth it.
The lawn growth is calf-length, the gutters looked burst-full with gunk, the (probably once vivid) pale-blue exterior paint was beyond chipped, the porch steps were clearly rotted, and there's a gaping hole airing out one portion of the house. But it'd be worth it because all these problems, they're yours now. The house, though decrepit, is yours. Paid-off by the graces of your dead relative and now yours, you officially own a home.
Home ownership, god.. what an adult thing to be giddy about.
Are you getting old...?
Nah.
You should probably get up though, nightfall wouldn't stall for anyone, let alone measly ol' you, and the blow-up mattress in your trunk surely wouldn't walk all the way up here by itself. So, you arose from the floor despite the begrudging of your everything, hobbling out the door and jogging lightly back down the hill. The sky a beautiful mix of yellows and fuchsia retreating to the west while bruised purples crept closer from the east, some blue caught between the complimentary hues. The brightest stars already seen glimmering past the clouds in anticipation of dusk.
Maybe you could make a hobby of stargazing out here, the light population seemed minimal enough. You could build a little firepit too, roast some marshmallows and count the constellations all night long, falling asleep beneath a blanket of stars... that'd nice.
Your musings disrupted when a foreign sound caught your ear.
You stood some yards short of your vehicle. The whistle of trapped air rushing from your quickly deflating tires setting you on edge.
They looked to be slashed.
Unease coiled in your stomach, a rush racing up your spine. You flipped on the spot to be facing the forest. A breeze rustling the pine, underbrush shivering in turn. Nothing behind you, none meeting your panicked gaze. You backed up until bumping into the hood of your car, keeping a portion of tree line in sight at all times, sliding along the machine until you reached your left rear tire, crouching beside it. The glint of a reflective surface had drawn you here. A blind hand patting along rough rubber until making contact with cold steel. You spared a glance to discover your fingertips had grazed the rim of a kitchen knife. Grasping the handle, it took effort to wrench and wriggle the weapon from where it'd been embedded with the angle you were working with.
Brandishing the knife, you stood, throwing a look over your shoulder to ensure none were sneaking up from the other side of the car.
"I'm armed-!" you declared, "and I'm keeping this!"
No response, no movement, still nothing.
The shadows of giants stretched, sun swallowed whole beneath the horizon, mere remnants of its fleeting presence struggling to reliably illuminate your surroundings. Dusk had arrived, the pitch of rural nights grasping to hastily take its place.
The shiver of underbrush returning, though you felt no breeze.
You had to get back to the house, now.
In a blink, you went from being locked in place to bounding for the hill. The pounding of a second set of footsteps loud even over the deafening rush of blood racing through your ears. Cool shades overtaking the sky, onyx tendrils grasping for your heels. You ran faster than you ever had in your entire life. Coarse dirt transitioning into wet greenery much quicker than you dared comprehend in your tunnel-vision state. Your best means of defense growing mercifully close.
A strained cry heard as a body crashed into yours, the knife sent from your grasp, face slammed into the lawn, your assailant gripping a fistful of your scalp.
You flailed and kicked wildly, managing to get on your back despite the agonizing twist of your tightly clumped hair. Arms flung to swat and claw, dull nails digging into the shoulder of the masked figure straddling your abdomen, their free hand wrapping around your throat in an attempt to choke. The pressure of their lone palm on your trachea not enough to suspend oxygen entirely. Gasping on what air you were able to get, you grasped at their hand, bending their fingers backwards and holding on when they tried to pull away, yanking the hand closer to your face and clamping down onto their ring and pinky fingers. A nasty iron tart coating your tongue shortly after, a pained wail preceding the loosening of their grip on your hair. Fingers still crunched between your molars as you tucked your knees until your ankles were pressed to your rump, utilizing what momentum you could to sit up and roll forward, knocking your attacker backwards. More than a few strands ripped from your head as they went. Letting go of their fingers as you jumped to your feet, stumbling and nearly slipping on the long wet grass.
"Fuu-cK you!" you croaked hoarsely, stomping their gut once, twice, with as much force as you could muster before staggering into a run towards the porch, their pained groans left in your wake. A firm kick granted to a tote in your way, food items sent scattering across the floor. The front door slammed closed and quickly locked. Trembling hands emptying your pockets in search of your phone to no avail. It must've been dislodged during the scuffle.
You weren't going back for it.
They could haven gotten up by n-
You screeched as the door rattled with the force of something impacting it. A quiet, besides the labor of your breath, falling into place after. Hugging yourself, fingers digging into your sides as you stared the door down with wide eyes. Your racing heart not bothering to calm until adrenaline ceased plaguing your veins. And when it did, your vision rolled as you fell to the side.
Slumped on the floor of a cold, unlit house.