Chapter Text
Leaves crunched under her boots.
It might have been an entire year, but nothing about the place had changed. It was exactly as she remembered it, same woods expanding in front of her, same dirt path that was never made into a proper one and always needed cleaning, same cut off from the road that made the house practically invisible.
It was no surprise it had been forgotten by everyone after the news of the incident had died out.
Amy hesitated.
The forest wasn't completely empty, even if it felt as suffocating as it would've been if it was. Barely in her line of sight she could see some deer grazing on the fresh grass, unaware of the guest that was about to disturb them once she walked past them.
Nature had continued on without them. She supposed it made no difference to any of these animals whether or not the people in that house were dead or alive.
She wondered if it had gotten broken into. Was there anything for people to take? Anything actually valuable had been moved over to her grandfather's house the very day she had gotten admitted into the institution. Although just the fact that it had a roof would make it very attractive shelter for animals in the coming, colder months.
Even if late in it, September still clung to summer's temperatures like a stubborn child. Even if wearing boots had definitely been the best decision for walking through the forest, the heat had made itself apparent enough that she slightly regretted her choice of wear. She had rolled up her sleeves before even entering the path, and ended up catching herself wiping the sweat forming on her hands off on her skirt more than a couple of times.
She decided it was better to attribute that feeling to the heat rather than the racing of her heart.
Amy stopped in the path once more, daring to take a break to look at the deer. Two females, huddled up close together for their meal. A voice in her head that sounded too much like her father's made a joke about feeding your food, but it failed to amuse her in the slightest. A step, and the two flicked their heads up, disappearing further into the woods in seconds.
And so she was alone once again.
She hadn't been alone that night. Instead it had felt like there were too many people in her house. Too many in her body. She had watched it all happen without control of her movements, her thoughts, her screams for help towards her mother.
Her parents talking lowly from a floor above, hoping she wouldn't be able to hear them. But she could. Or rather, it could and she had just also happened to be there.
That's not my daughter anymore.
Her father's words etched into her skull, hurting more than ever due to the realisation that he was right. She wasn't his daughter anymore. She had stopped feeling like herself from the moment that thing had taken over and was still lost even a year after it had left.
She took a deep breath.
It had left.
She reminded herself of that.
Its claws were no longer digging at the back of her mind, even if now and again she would check back, convinced that it was still there, waiting for her to drop her guard and start what had happened all over again.
But she knew it was gone even if her brain tried to trick her into thinking it wasn't.
Because she had seen it in his eyes.
Her boot sunk into a patch of mud. She blinked a few times, bringing herself back to reality. Right. She was still on the way home. By now to her right should have been an old shed, even more abandoned that the house itself. She'd spend days there with friends when it rained outside, huddled up in a corner and playing truth or dare like their life depended on it.
By now it was probably destroyed. Or the ceiling leaked and the floor was covered in mold. Not that it mattered in any way; anyone that would've gone in there was now gone. Her parents were long dead, and the few people she called friends had swiftly abandoned her upon hearing about her stay at the mental institution.
She wondered how they had found out as she stepped over a branch, seeing something speed away out of the corner of her eye. She held her breath and waited for a moment, expecting it to return, but when it yielded no results she decided that for her own sanity she'd say it was a deer and move on.
Had the professors walked into her class and announced it? Or was it a declaration spread between hushed tones and freaked out expressions?
It didn't matter now.
What did matter was that the house came into view at last, and she found herself unwillingly reminiscing once more.
There had been two priests that night. The older man with the crucifix stood in front of her with the overconfidence of experience and the detachment that came with it. He hadn't faltered for a moment at her screams, if anything his eyebrows had furrowed in annoyance when her parents had come down to the basement.
The moment he was alone, she had slit his throat and left his body to rot down there.
The other had refused to look at her in the eyes. Uncomfortable, anxious, guilt plastered in his expression as he buried his face in the scripture in an attempt not to face her.
They had only shared eye contact in the attic, where he had clutched the crucifix with a fake confidence that didn't reach anything but his eyes, his hands shaking as they held the symbol like a lifeline.
One that hadn't saved him. Even if it had saved her.
Amy had stopped before realising that she had actually arrived.
The house was different. And yet it was exactly the same.
Time had hit it. As expected, nobody had returned to maintain it, and although boards covered the broken windows they were loose and came off with a single push of her hand. The trees had grown around it undisturbed, weeds tangled with flowers weaving over the sides of the walls like the house was just another part of the forest and not something man-made.
Nature had claimed it as its own, and there wasn't a place for her in it anymore. She knew that. She hadn't come to stay, the mere sight of the building already twisting her stomach, but she had to look through it one last time. For closure.
Amy reached out towards the rotting door.