Chapter Text
I’m alone, but not really alone, I have people, but it doesn’t make the hollow leave, it doesn’t make the feeling of constantly being not enough go away, you know? Who am I kidding? You probably don’t know. Or perhaps you do, and you’ve come across this and wondered why a random boy that goes by the name Fletch relates to you in a way that no one should relate to. Strap in, because you’re about to see what I am speaking of.
I suppose I should introduce myself: I am Fletch or Fletcher, no other names to you or any of your friends. I enjoy writing, reading, drawing, helping people, caffeine, rabbits, and many other things. I’m from a small town in the middle of nowhere named Mount Hades. Yes after the Greek god, and yes I know it’s a stupid name. We’re at the base of the mountain, tourists come through, some don’t make it out, some do, just mauled by… a “Mountain Lion” I know, I know a cliche excuse for something strange happening. Anyways, back to the main point. This town and mountain is like a prison to me, and I don’t know why, that was until Edgar came to town, he seemed to have this strange aura about him, like he was ready for any type of conversation, constantly, and he seemed to never look the same, it was alluring in a way, I’m not sure why. He’s my age, fifteen, and he dresses like he doesn’t care, and I’m glad he does, because it showed me I could as well. Well, I guess we should come back to the present.
I’m walking down the street with my friend Reggie and his younger sister Natalie Black. Natalie is petite, blonde with brown roots, her hair goes down to her waist and it’s straight, she’s wearing a sweater that looks like a color wheel barfed up on her and a white skirt. Reggie is taller, chubby, wearing a bandshirt, combat boots, some protest bracelets, along with a mothman hoodie that he pulled the sleeves up on. He also has a lip piercing he did himself. He has green and purple longer hair with brown roots, that’s shaggy and layered, and glasses.
The world is calm, it's a fall day, cool, damp, I can hear the leaves crunch under my feet, but then the squish of other things, like plums and the rotten apples that have fallen onto the sidewalk. It feels dull. We’re talking about things that have been happening around town and what’s been going on with missing persons and other things found in the forest just up the mountain. Reggie is rambling about how his father brought a bunch of case files home to go over, his voice excited. “He brought home evidence as well! It’s so sweet!” He goes on, “And the crime scene photos are so sick!”
I just nod along as he rambles. Natalie tries to hold onto my arm, it’s strange, I don’t like it, but I don’t say anything. Her sleeves are made of an itchy material that makes me feel sick. Reggie is too far into his rambling to realize, and Natalie doesn’t have social skills enough to understand that this isn’t normal. I feel like I’m being suffocated, it’s too hot, and I can feel her on my skin, her smell. I just sigh.
Reggie turns to look directly at me, “Did you know that the mountain lion that has been killing the tourists is so much larger than the average ones found on the mountain?” He asks excitedly.
I shake my head and respond with, “Nah, I didn’t know that, anything else you wanna tell me?” I’m just standing there, trying to figure out how to shake Natalie off.
Reggie is shifting from his heels to his toes, over and over, it’s something he’s done since I met him a while ago. “Well, yeah, I do, I always have something to tell you!” He says, “There are so many awesome things to say!”
I nod along as he starts to ramble again. Natalie finally says something, her voice soft and a sickly sweet, I can tell she’s trying way too hard. “Fletchy, what’s up with your face?” She pokes my face, “It’s droopy.”
I get startled and I slap her hand away, “Do not touch me anymore, and do not call me that, you overgrown pimple,” I push her shoulder lightly, “Just leave me alone, Natalie.”
I end up storming off, leaving Reggie there mid sentence, I can hear the siblings arguing and fighting in the distance. I grab my earbuds from my pocket and put them in, and start blasting music, wanting to drown out the other sensations. I start thinking, Hell, what if I was too harsh on her? I start walking, then I see Stout, my family’s border collie, blue merle coloring. She comes barreling towards me as I get closer, and she jumps on top of me, licking my face. She slobbers all over my face and jewelry.
“Ew! Stout! Get yer booty off me!” I pat her butt and push her off. She starts spinning and then runs back up to the gate and I jump it, as I’m too lazy to open it again.
I walk into my house, the place I’ve felt trapped since I was born. It’s a vintage 1950s’ house, most of it original. I don’t know why my mom is obsessed with a time period where women were treated like objects, but that’s most time periods to be fair. I see my mom sitting on the couch, cross stitching, or like… knitting? I don’t know. My mom looks up at me. “Where were you?” She said, putting her craft down beside her on the couch.
“Just out with Reggie and Natalie. Nothing bad,” I say, trying to keep her calm.
“And why are you wearing those god awful clothes? I told you to start looking presentable.” She scoffs and stands and grabs my wrist to start pulling my jewelry off. “Golly, you kids.”
I can’t do anything or she’ll call dad… again. I’d rather not be called demonic more than once this week.
“Why is it that every time I dress in the way I want to it’s a problem? But when Brenan does it, he’s and I quote ‘expressing himself” AND I GET YELLED AT?” I won't stop her from taking my jewelry off, but I am going to talk back to her.
It takes her a moment to respond, “Well, he is out of the house, you are not, now go take that god awful clothing off before I make you.”
I roll my eyes and go to my room, I sit on my bed, staring at the mirror that sits across from me, I’m wearing a purple tank top, flared white pants, my chunky boots with heels, tons of jewelry, a white sheer shawl, and my full faced mask that’s painted with flowers and stars. My brown hair comes down to my shoulders, highlighted with purple. Maybe it’s because I’m too femme..? I touch my reflection, leaving smeared fingerprints on the mirror. I sigh and take my mask off. The cardboard is rough yet smooth. I run my hands over my skin, feeling strange without the thing that has given my confidence. My skin is pale, with practically a cow print pattern that covers my face, similar to my mother’s.
I sit back down and look around, it feels… bad in a way, the furniture is in the same place my mother put it when I was twelve. It looks like something straight from the 50s’ just like the rest of the house. There’s a soccer ball in the corner, baseball posters and cards on the walls. None of this screams… Fletcher. It never has. No posters of my favorite bands, no stuffed animals, no color besides blue and white. The light baby blue is starting to make me sick. I have never liked blue a day in my life, and yet she buys me blue. And the books are all just bibles and magazines of sports I’ve never played; soccer, football, basketball, volleyball, baseball. It’s all things I have never shown interest in.
I look at the mirror, then away, hearing my phone buzz. I pick it up, I see the name Mort Stiffen on my call screen. My brother’s boyfriend, he’s cool from what I know. I answer it, “What’s up?”
“Hey, little man, dude, uh, I dunno what to call you at this point. Would you want to come to the music shop to help with some sales and stuff?” His voice is kind of panicky, “Your brother wants to know,”
I cut him off before he can finish, “God, yes, get me out of this hell hole. I’ll be there in seven.” I hang up and grab my things again before jumping out my window, hearing the smush of the leaves. One story houses have plus sides.
I run to the shop as fast as I can. I run through the back room, dodging through the boxes of amps and peddles. to the front, practically shoulder slamming the door open. Brenan is standing there, hands on his hips. “Hey, kiddo,” He says, turning to greet me. “Figured you’d want out of mom’s way.” He’s wearing a ton of spikes and things. That’s really the only way I can describe his style besides a stereotypical punk band dude.
I respond, rubbing the back of my head. “Yeah, just a tad bit, thanks, Bren.” I say as I plop in the purple bean bag chair that Brenan set up for me when he bought the store. It’s faded and lumpy, but it’s mine, and I know it is.
Brenan’s voice comes from the back room, “Hey, Fletch, can you watch the front for a bit?” He asks, “Me and Martin are going to go do… an errand.” Brenan’s voice is muffled by the wall but I can hear him kissing Martin.
“Yeah, I can, don’t worry!” I roll my eyes and get up to sit on the stool at the counter, it smelled musty, and kind of like metal. Considering the amount of metal that’s in here, it makes sense. On one wall there are a bunch of guitars hanging, just waiting to be bought or at least played and tested.
I hear the bell of the front door open, it’s Reggie, he has his hair put up.
“Hey Fletcher, how’s it going?” His voice is soft and he goes to the counter with the drum sticks and trinkets. Picking out a few and bringing them to the counter. He has the green drumsticks with the sparkles, along with the mothman with a transflag.
“It’s going alright, how about you?” I ask, looking for the price tags on the items and punching in the numbers.
He answers, fidgeting anxiously, “I… I’m alright, my mom found my drumsticks and snapped them and threw out my trans flag, so… I needed to get new ones..” He laughs nervously, I hate his mom, I always have, even when we were little. She's one of those moms that only buys snacks that are labeled fat free, sugar free, dye free, and dairy free. This kid is deprived of good snacks.
“Ah, well, she’s a prick, and it ticks me off, alright? You’re always welcome here, I know Brenan has told you this before, but I’m telling you this again.” I reply, his shoulders relax again and he smiles at me.
“Thank you, Fletch.” He says as I wrap the small mothman in papers from the kiosk down the street, my brother buys them because some of the trinkets he sells are fragile. I see a headline, it says, another tourist missing, And, another body found mauled. I sigh, crumpling it and putting it in the bag with the drumsticks.
“Looks like another was taken and another was found. How’s your pops taking it?” I answer in a slightly teasing way, knowing he hates his dad but is invested in these cases.
He gets really excited and his voice isn’t quite soft anymore, more hyper, “My dad brought home a box of evidence, which he is not supposed to do, but he did it anyways and after he and my mother went to bed I grabbed my gloves and went through it!” He practically jumps onto the counter, leaning on it with both hands clutching the other side.
I laugh softly and hand him the bag of his things. “Yeah? What was in it? You take notes?” I lightly poke his arm, teasing him. “You see the photos?”
“Yes, yes, yes, YES. The victim was a hiker, he was found practically ripped to shreds! He was dragged around, practically flung!” He practically squeals, “It means we’re looking at something so much bigger than a– a mountain lion.. They think it’s a bear now!”
“Yeah? You’re really into this stuff? I really don’t understand it, bud. But you do you.” I laugh and grab the comic book from under the purple bean bag. He continues to ramble. I lay the comic on the counter and start to read, his voice starts to distort, muffling as I start to disassociate, thinking about things from earlier, what my mom was going to say when I come home, what my brother is going to say about things. Maybe I should just stop trying to be what they expect. Maybe that’d be easier. But they need me to be that kid. Oh well, I'll survive… probably.
I feel my eyes start to close, then it’s just black. I was startled awake by a touch on the shoulder. Brenan’s voice is quiet and soft, “Hey, Fletch. You fell asleep,” he rubs my shoulder, “Reggie came to find us when you wouldn’t wake up.” He pulls my mask up and off, making sure I can breathe.
“Hey! Yes, I’m fine, I just didn’t sleep well last night.” I answer, grabbing my mask back and yanking it back. My voice is snippy and hard.
“Woah woah woah, kid, calm down, I’m just checking on you.” He rubs the back of my head, trying to keep me calm, I’m not quite sure why I’m angry, but I am. His touch is gentle, along with his voice.
“Just get the hell off of me, do not touch me.” I slam his hand into the wall, pushing it away, he yelps, and I back up. I feel a wave of panic and I feel the need to bolt out the door, the world seems to be too bright, I can smell something and I hate it, it’s coming from him.
“Fletcher Alice! What in the hell is going on with you?!” He grabs my shoulders and shakes me, I feel the panic rise in my chest more, my heart is pounding against my ribs, it’s almost painful.
“I don’t know! Just get off me!” I struggle against him. I’m trying to put my mask on, but he isn’t letting me. I keep resisting his touch.
“Fletcher! Calm down!” He manages to restrain me, his grip is tight, holding me down, my arms behind my back. The stench is starting to burn my eyes and my nose, my throat feels like it’s closing, my skin feels like it’s burning. I don’t know what’s wrong.
“No! It hurts! It hurts! The smell! Get it away!” I yell, trying to get away. His grip finally ceases and he gets up.
“What smell?” His voice is now softer and I feel a bucket of water being poured onto me, my clothes drenched in ice cold water, it for some reason helps, I feel less like I’m burning, more like I’m just itchy now. I open my eyes to see a boy with bright blonde hair that’s almost hard to look at, a cheek piercing with a chain to his earlobe that is also pierced, piercings line his ears, sparkling with the light, all silver.
He’s grinning down at me, almost smug, god, I already hate his face. “You having trouble there, kid?” He kicks me softly. I groan, he smiles wider, “Are you alright?”
I shake my head, I feel horrible, and I don’t know why, “Get your smug face away, weirdo.” I get up and flip him off.
He scoffs, “Who are you to call a weirdo?” The boy’s eyebrows raise, and he steps closer, “You look like a cow, and now a cow who got attacked by bees with all those hives.” He steps even closer, now in my face, his voice full of disdain, “And don’t get me started on those clothes and those crappy, fake silver earrings, what? Are you too broke to get actual silver? Or do you have an allergy?”
I can feel his breath on my face, I step even closer, my anger burning in my stomach and chest now. My hands clench into fists and I can feel the tension in my hands, it’s almost painful, “Who the hell are you to insult me like I’m some dog below you?!” My nails dig into my palms.
“I’m Edgar, and are you sure you’re not a dog or below me?” Edgar taps his finger into my sternum, “You sure are a short little dog, and with that temper, you must be a chihuahua, huh?” He then pushes my shoulders back, and I tumble backwards into a shelf.
I get up, putting the stuff that got knocked onto my head back onto the shelf, “Then that makes you an animal abuser, if I’m a dog, then you’re abusing me.” I turn to look at him. Edgar stops for a moment, staring at me.
“What if I punched you?” He says randomly.
“I’d hit back? Why? You better not punch me, prick.” I turn back to the shelf.
Edgar shifts to one hip, “What’s your name?” He puts his hands on his hip, his voice impudent and playful.
“Why is that important? I’m never going to see you again.” I take a step to turn and he somehow snuck up behind me and now I’m face to face with him again. “Oh holy hell. Hello, why are you so close?! Back up, you bloody freak.”
Edgar shrugs, “I’m just trying to make a friend.”
I blink at him thinking, what in the holy hell is wrong with this kid. When I hear the door bell ring as another person comes into the shop, a girl with blonde hair just like Edgar’s and facial features similar to his, I can recognize her from Reggie’s band “Poe”, Annabeth. I think her name was, but I’m not quite sure, she’s a bass player. I hear the girl start talking, she sounds kind of angry, “Where in the world have you been, Edgar?! Don’t tell me you’ve been harassing people again!” She grabs Edgar’s arm, “This is the fourth time since we moved here!”
Edgar seems to shrink in on himself, “I’m sorrrrryyyy.” He whines.
The girl turns to me, “I’m Annabelle Lovelock, this is my brother Edgar Lovelock, we moved to town a few weeks ago. I apologize about him.”
So I was wrong, huh, not the first time and not the last. I laugh, “It’s alright, I’m just as guilty of being a prick!” I grab my mask that’s on the ground and put it on, the suffocating feeling is comforting in a way, knowing they can’t see my face.
Edgar rubs the back of his head, “I realize that I’m right and you’re wrong.”
I look at him confused, “What? There was barely a disagreement there, you just called me a dog.” I scoff and roll my eyes, going back to my comic book that was now kind of crumbled and drooled on from when I had fallen asleep on it.
He stiffens again to say something more, but his sister stops him, “Again, I apologize for his behavior.” Annabelle drags him off and out of the shop, both of them grumbling in a quiet argument.
I grab my things, my bag, comic book, and headphones. I run out of the music store, leaving Brenan and Martin to tend to the music store. I put on my headphones, I turn on a playlist, full of songs from the 80s’, 90s’ and a lot of other time periods, but the first song that comes on is “Space Oddity” by David Bowie. I turn it up to a high volume, trying to block out sounds. (Look, I know, long periods of time exposed to high decibels of volume can cause damage, but I’m tired, okay?) I feel the slight slip of the wet leaves and the mud on the ground from the rains of the autumn time.
I keep running until finding a decent park, the abandoned one behind the old school house, it was burned down by a mysterious fire in 1904, I think. There’s more history behind it, it had been the first school building in the area, built in 1807, it was running for ninety seven years. Some people say it was built on ground where people were massacred years before settlers claimed this land.
I know it’s nothing compared to most things.
I sit under a slide, a dry spot away from the rain that had fallen earlier in the day, well, mostly dry. Some water had trickled in from a small path made by some sort of animal. I take a deep breath of the air, pulling out my comic book again, the superhero on the cover feels like a mocking gesture. I'm not sure why. Maybe because he gets to be himself while making others happy, or maybe he gets to be himself while being strong and masculine, while I’m sitting under a slide, looking like a boy trying to be a girl and hide, I’m not, I’m just trying to be myself, but does anyone understand that? No, they don’t. Or maybe it’s because their mother loves them, I'm not sure.
I’ve been sitting here for around forty minutes I think, just studying the art style. The character designs, the amount of personality each one holds, the suits versus the civilian clothes. The world feels like it would be so much… better if I lived there, comparing the kids there to the kids in my school, they had different personalities, while the kids in my school feel like they have none, same clothes, same voices, same interests, and it’s all the same, every single person feels copy and pasted. All of them trying to fit into the box of society.
I continue to sit there, continuing to read, the world seeming to numb around me, my surroundings becoming blurry. It gets to a point where I don’t realize that the slide that my back is pressed against is starting to feel warm, before it starts to get too bad and I start to feel pain, and I yelp, scrambling out from under it. The ground is hot, the grass is scorched with the flames that start from the slide, it’s covered with them. I can feel the heat all over my body, like I’m being burned head to toe. The flames seem to speak, I can’t understand them well, but it seemed like they were saying something along the lines of Leave, you impudent child. But I’m not actually too sure, the way it sounds is grating, gravely, and menacing. I stood there, the heat was making it hard to breathe, I’m starting to pant, my body feeling heavy. The fire keeps chanting the words. I slide to the ground, the smoke in the air making my lungs hurt even more than they did.
Oh god, I’m going to die here! I think to myself, when I see the silhouette through the fire, I start to think I’m saved before the person gets closer, they become more… solid in my vision, they’re wearing a 1900s style dress, their skin is pale, it seems to be a teacher of some sort. Her voice is the same as the flames, the tone is the same. I see her crouch down in front of my face, the way parents do to their toddler who is in trouble. I hear her speak in a different tone, “Leave child, before you meet your fate,” her voice is softer, tired, still horace in a way. After she says that, she reaches down to my throat, and picks me up, my legs dangling from the ground. I try to squirm out of her grip and free myself, but she’s a lot stronger than I had expected. I finally get the woman’s grip off of me, and I fall to the ground. The world seems to warp for a moment, before I struggle to my feet. The woman is stood there, a about two or three yards in front of me, she is holding what seems to be a plank of wood or something, like they would use as corporal punishment for children back in the 1900s before child abuse laws. A paddle, I think? I’m not sure. I stand there, the way she’s staring at me, like a child who's gotten in trouble. I feel that sense of anger I had gotten earlier in the day when I was with Brenan. I feel like I can’t quite control my body or my actions, again, like earlier in the day. I lunge, fists raised. The woman swings the paddle, it doesn’t even hit me, and yet, I feel a pressure press against me, and practically throw me. I hit a tree, I can feel a pain reverberating through my body, starting at my spine. I feel my whole body go numb as I hit the ground, my mask breaking, face in the cold, dewy grass, I had gotten away from the fire at least. I feel my eyes open and close, I hear the footsteps of the woman, she raises her paddle again and strikes my back. I let out a scream, hoping someone will hear, she continues to strike, my body is too heavy and too weak for me to fight back, I just lay here and take it, soon I lose consciousness.
I open my eyes, what seems like hours later, I don’t feel the grass anymore, instead I’m on something soft, warm, it smells nice. I bury my face in the soft, safe feeling surface. I must’ve made a noise, because I hear a familiar voice, “Awh, the doggy is awake,” the voice is the one of Edgar, teasing, full of sarcasm, annoying, infuriating even, and then the sound of a stop watch clicking to a stop, “Don’t you find it adorable when a dog first wakes, sister?”
Annabelle answers with a bored voice, “Whatever do you mean, brother? He’s quite… blegh in my opinion,”
I sit up, looking up at the two. I was laid in a bed, it did feel quite amazing, I didn’t know a bed could feel quite this good. I feel groggy, heavy, and my body aches. I let out a groan and flop back down, hugging the pillow tightly, burying the bottom half of my face in it. I look around the room, it’s decorated like a child's room, toys, and collections everywhere, comic books, along with toys, like stuffed animals and other trinkets. It’s not dirty, but not sparkling clean. The walls are a deep blue, I feel calm, I can hear the twins talking about something. I close my eyes again, burying my head fully into the pillow.
I hear the door open, it’s a light squeak, soft footsteps, and I feel a body sit down next to me, and I feel a hand be placed on my head, it’s warm. I adjust and I see a woman in her late thirties early forties, black hair and green eyes, she has smile lines. Her voice is soft and comforting, “How are you feeling sweetheart? My son found you at the old playground. He said you had angered the old spirit of the teacher.” I feel like all I can do is groan in response, my throat seems to be messed up by being thrown, or my screaming, I’m not quite sure.
Edgar speaks again, his voice less irritating or teasing, “Oh, momma, he got beat to a pulp, you should’ve seen it. But I saved him!”
My eyes widen, and I sit up again, my voice suddenly feeling a lot better, “Does that mean I owe you something now?”
He laughs, “No! Not at all!”
Annabelle groans, getting up, rolling her eyes and walking out of the room, and their mother follows after her, leaving me and Edgar in the room alone. I rub my face, “Where’s my mask?” I feel angry, tired, and my ribs kind of hurt.
“Not actually sure, is it that important to you? I can buy you another one if that’s what you’re worried about.” Edgar responds, getting up, going to his desk and sitting in the chair, spinning.
“No, I don’t want your money, or gifts. Or… Or whatever you’re offering.” I continue speaking, not letting him get words more sentences in, “That was scary, my world feels bad, and I’m cold, and I just want my dumb mask, so I don’t get looked at weirdly when I walk with my friends. Please, give it back.”
“I would if I could, I found it broken and kind of mushed because of the rain and you falling on your face.” He laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, “And the whole situation I found you in was in fact your fault, you provoked the teacher.”
“How was that my fault?! I was just sitting there! She’s the one who came after me!” I huff and turn over, burying my face in the pillow again.
“You were in her area, have you never heard the tales of beyond?” His voice is quiet, but I can hear it getting slightly louder and I feel him sit on the bed next to me. My tossing and turning is endless, unlike the pounding feeling in my head that’s relenting after a bit.
Edgar’s mom comes back in, holding her cellphone, her voice is full of irritation, “Fletcher, sweetheart, I just got off the phone with your mother, she’s quite upset with the fact you didn’t come home yesterday.”
I look at her, when had it become yesterday? How long was I knocked out? I stare at her for a moment, “What..? Yesterday? How long have I been unconscious?”
Edgar scoffs, hopping off the bed and crossing his arms, “Thirteen hours and forty two minutes. That is how long the stopwatch had been going.”
His mom squints her eyes, “Honey, why were you timing the poor boys sleep?”
He practically freezes mid step towards the door, “No real reason, I was just curious to know how he was going to sleep.”
She raises her eyebrows, “Well, suppose you were just curious, but still, a strange action to take.”
Edgar huffs and storms out, taking the stopwatch with him from the floor. I sit up again, grabbing the broken pieces of my mask from the ground. “Did yesterday really happen, Mrs. Lovelock?”
Mrs. Lovelock nods, taking the pieces from my hands, “I fear it did, the woman was an actual entity that has haunted those grounds for years, many before you or even I came to this town, but she means to protect the grounds from more harm.” She places a soft hand on my shoulder, her voice softer than what it was before, the way my mother talks to my sister. It makes me uncomfortable in a way, in a bad way, but also not, I’m not used to people being this soft or talking to me like this.
“Oh… Well, I should probably be heading home, so my mom doesn’t get more upset. And I… I need time to process..” I grab the pieces from Mrs. Lovelock and grab my bag that was sitting clearly on the end of the desk, poorly hidden under a bunch of clothes and papers, like someone doesn’t want me to leave.