Chapter Text
The night he heard the phone ring was the night Evan nearly died.
It was raining heavily and the smell of fresh musk crept in through the open window, blinds blasting violently in the wind. His room was cold, but he was colder, even as he huddled up under his thick blanket, and rain continued to shoot through, drowning his exposed room.
However, it was not the rain nor the thunder that woke him up in such a fright, nor was it the reason for his inability to fall asleep again. His problem was the phone downstairs that continued to ring. Mocking him.
On the first day he came to live with the Nash family, Evan saw it. The black phone. It stared back at him and for a moment he was back there in that room. That basement.
Bobby has seen him staring at the phone distantly as he waited for it to ring. His words echoed in his mind as the phone continued to ring downstairs. It is disconnected.
Evan didn't believe him. Not then and not now. Because it was the same thing he had told him. And that phone did ring. He knows it did, even if no one else believed him.
As he bunched up the blanket around him tightly the phone stopped. And there was silence again. The air held its breath, but the rain continued to pour.
Blue eyes darted around the small bedroom, looking for anything out of the ordinary. There was none that he could see. No shadow. No ghosts. No man. He was safe, Evan reminded himself as he flicked on the bedside light.
He had escaped. Both the basement and his parents.
Yet, his stomach remained unsettled, as he sat there in the silence. And his eyes kept darting around the room. Waiting.
A creak had him gasping. His body locking up in fright, cold hands grasping for his bear, hidden under the blanket. It was just the wind, he chanted to himself. But now, he couldn't help but notice there was no more silence.
His room had suddenly come to life and Evan began to hear every nook and cranny groaning and shifting under the bitter air.
In the darkness, the sky rumbled in warning, before a flash of lightning, lit up his room and terror took over Evan. And he saw him. In that brief moment, sitting in the chair, was the grabber, belt in hand. And he was staring at him. And Buck stared back in fear, tears gathering at the sight of him.
His heart beated loudly in his chest, and Evan found himself unable to breathe. The room, which had become his sanctuary, suddenly seemed smaller. And all he could focus on was escaping.
He stumbled out of bed, lithe body tangled in the sheets, which followed him, holding him down like strong unforgetting hands. His body shook then, shuddering at the memory.
Quickly, his eyes shot to the chair. It was empty. It had always been empty, and it always will be, but the sight of him, even the briefest had him fighting for air.
A roll of thunder lit up the room again and he stared out the open window, watching as rain belted through and the puddle grew on his floor, reaching out for him.
Panicking Evan threw the sheets off him, throwing them to the side and out of his sight and then he was running out the room, and down the stairs, two at a time.
He had no idea why he didn't run to Bobby's room, his legs just took over and he was in the hallway, staring into the darkness. But even in the darkness, Evan knew what he was looking at. And he hoped he'd never have to see something so innocent yet so frightening again. But he was always brought back to it. Every time. Every night.
The black phone.
Something had shifted though. It rang. It never rang. Not once. And he had lived in this house for a month.
Narrowing his eyes, Evan took a step closer, flicking the hallway light as he went. He never took his eyes off the phone as he walked.
The phone was cold under his touch, and dust stained his fingers when he pulled away, a trail of fresh fingerprints tainted the untouched phone.
Holding his breath, Evan took it off the mantle and brought it to his ear, hands shaking as he did.
"Hello?" he whispered, eyes looking up at the floor above, ears perking for any sudden noise.
There was no reply and the house remained quiet.
"Hello" he said again, more determined and confident, "I'm going to put the phone down, don't call again." There was no reply. And the phone was hastily put back.
Evan gave the phone one more glance before he turned away, heading for the stairs. Lights off.
In the darkness the phone rang again. Loud and with purpose, it rattled on the wall, filling the silence. He hadn't even made it to the first step.
Evan knew he should've ignored it, should've gone upstairs, close his window and go to bed, but his curiosity got the better of him and he was flicking the light back on and walking towards the phone.
"Hello" he said, before it could hang up.
There was silence again and annoyance burned in his stomach.
"Hello" he repeated.
"Evan," the voice said. And Evan felt like throwing up or hanging the phone up. He did neither.
"Robin" he whispered, voice breaking, "is that you."
The voice doesn't speak for a while, and Evan begins to fear he has hung up. "Is that my name?"
"Yes, your name is Robin. Robin Arellano."
Robin chuckles, static cutting in, "I'm glad someone knows it."
Evan's grip tightens on the phone, "call me again and I'll tell you it until you can no longer forget it."
"I can't," Robin replies, "I didn't call for myself."
"You never did," Evan responds, "none of you did." You called for me.
"I don't have long Evan."
"Robin?" he questions.
"It's not over," Robin warns, "it was never over."
"Over?"
"The house" he replies sombrely, "you escaped but it's not over."
"He's dead" Evan responds, "I killed him, it's got to be over."
Robin doesn't respond, and the unsettling feeling comes flooding back. "Robin?"
Heavy breathing buzzes out the receiver. Someone was there.
"Robin?" he calls out again, unsure of what happened or what to do.
"Whose Robin?"
Goosebumps rise on Evan's skin at the voice. Deep and manipulative. And Evan's back there again. Just shy of being eleven, trapped and alone with a single dirty mattress and a black phone.
"Grabber" he states, shocked at his voice, which did not tremble at the mention of him, despite his restless behaviour.
The Grabber did not respond, just like Robin, and then he laughed. A loud and maniacal laughter.
"It's not over" he chants, repeating the phrase over and over again, until Evan can't focus on anything else.
It's not over. It's not over. It's not over.
His brain repeats these words, unable to put together a string of coherent words.
The Grabber continues to speak, filling in the silence, and evidently cutting off Evan's thoughts, "did you really think it was over?"
Evan remained tight-lipped at the question, he had hoped it was over ever since his escape, but now as the Grabber continued to speak he knew Robin was right. It wasn't over and he didn't know how to fix that.
"Even in death I'll have my revenge."
The Grabber laughed again, Louder. And the sound rattled inside Evan's ear, who pulled the phone away.
"Let's play a game."
"No" Evan responded quickly, heaving at the suggestion.
The Grabber sighed. "Naughty boy."
"No," Evan repeated sharply. Though he wasn't sure which he was referring to the game or the name. Evan didn't believe he was naughty. Hadn't heard that phrase directed at him in months- Bobby wouldn't tolerate such words. But something inside of him knew that it didn't matter which one he settled with, both ideas work.
"You're making me sad" the Grabber responded, fake crying echoing down the phone, "naughty boy."
Evan swallowed the bile in his throat. He should hang up the phone now. The sane part of his brain knew that, but he couldn't move his body.
The crying continued, growing more unsettling by the second and Evan found himself missing the comfort of his blanket, but most importantly he found himself missing Bobby's hugs. Deep down he wished he could get his body to move and put the phone down.
"I'm going to hang up now" Evan threatened, despite the tremor that wracked his body. The lie sounded flat in his ears.
"No!" the Grabber snapped, "stay with me Evan."
At the sound of his name he shuddered. It had been months since he last heard it said like that. His name rolling off his tongue like a purr.
"I missed you" he continued, "I missed your voice and other things."
"Other things?" Evan forced out, "what other things?"
"Your presence" the Grabber stated, "quite young, and easy on the eye."
Evan gagged then at his words, "stop." His voice shook as he pleaded. No child should have to hear such vulgar words directed at them. He was only ten when he first heard those comments, a couple months away from being eleven.
"So easy to talk to."
"Stop" Evan snarled, slamming the phone back on the wall. His body heaved at the silence that followed and Evan took the moment to regain his composure.
The hallway light began flickering in warning and then the phone began ringing again. Evan picked the phone up and placed it back down just as quickly.
Silence didn't last long, not with him back, it was broken by the phone ringing again, somehow more louder and violent then the last. It scared him, more than his recklessness to answer.
"You shouldn't have done that Evan" the Grabber spits out when he answers, "you really shouldn't have done that."
The sound of the phone disconnecting gave him relief, and he was dizzy with it as he placed the phone back on the wall again.
Exhaustion laced his body with sleep, and he was ready to climb the stairs, shut his window and sleep. Exactly in that order. The rest could wait until tomorrow.
Quietly he listened for noise upstairs and he was greeted with a stillness. The house was dead again. And he was at peace. For now, he thought. Evan had no idea when the next phone call would happen or if it’ll ring again. The latter seemed almost ridiculous. Of course the phone would ring again. It was just his luck. But for now he was going to savour the peace, the rest would just have to wait until he’s ready.
Then leaning on the wall Evan stifled a laugh. It was short and dry, and before he knew it Evan was shivering and sobbing, his body finally catching up with the events and he could do nothing but cry in the hallway, with the phone behind him and the light twitching above him.
Standing straight and ready for bed, Evan found himself unable to breath, his throat tight and gasping for air. Fingers twitch as they feel his neck and he's shocked. The cold rubber cord twisted around his pale neck once, twice, three times before he could see the phone in his hand and he couldn't let go.
He couldn't unwrap the cord. He couldn't breathe.