But enough of that shit, let's talk about the monster tearing its way out of the Black Room. Through your shock, through even your fear, you're surprised that it seems so familiar. Pallid, loose skin dotted with pale parasites, bloated, putrid, it was a person at one point. It's hands are gone, shafts of splintered bone protrude from its wrists like claws, its head is a mass of pulpy tentacles. It's dressed, almost comically, like a local. All denim–jean jacket and blue jeans.

As your heart thunders in your chest, you stand transfixed, watching it rip the remains of the Black Room door away and stagger toward you, howling that tiresome cry. "NEMESIS!" Valerie, that witchy bitch, must have done this. Her body is gone, probably dead still–you have her soul after all–but you're not sure how dead she is. Right now it doesn't matter. Right now you need to, quite literally, get away with murder.

You pull a road flare from your jacket pocket and ignite it. A sputtering red fills the basement, turning the black water to blood. With an idle toss, you ignite the gas-soaked couch, the fire spreading hungrily across the room. Heat washes over your face, making your burn scar ache. You feel a spike of fear and something else: a surge of terrible, monstrous excitement.

Strangely, you're smiling.

xxx

Roll 1d6
I need three rolls looking for 4, 5, or 6.

You need two to pass.

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>6208020
oh boy oh boy oh boy

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>6208020
hmm is this a cape quest ? should I read the 1st one ?

>>6208020
>Roll 1d6
>I need three rolls looking for 4, 5, or 6.
>You need two to pass.

>>6208021
>>6208033
looks like we already failed

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>6208020

>>6208033
>is this a cape quest
No, not really.

>should I read the 1st one ?
Yes, definitely.


>1
>1
>5

Writing

>>6208041
>>is this a cape quest
>No, not really.
I don't know, has Kyle really done anything evil so far? He could be an anti-hero. Look, he's reduced the homelessness issue locally, has removed psycho cult extremists, put an end to illegal amorous conduct for pay, performed charitable acts for a senior citizen retiree who is almost bedridden, removed a sexual predator even before he was put on a list (very efficient), stopped what was definitely a thief before the quest even started (SUPER efficient), and he stimulates the local economy by working a thankless blue-collar job. He pretty much is a hillbilly superman.

Honestly, he should run for office.

The drowned thing reaches you, stretching out with bone claws, but you're faster. Your knife sings through the air and punches into its chest with a wet thud. The monster is unfazed. Jagged shards of bone rake your chest, cutting your shirt to ribbons and doing pretty much the same to the skin beneath. Pain is nothing to you, if anything you're more pissed off that you didn't kill it.

You withdraw your knife and thrust again, stabbing through soaking denim and saggy skin. Wow, nothing. Again.

The thing isn't even stunned. Worse it's not alone. Another one emerges from the doorway, lurching out of the cold, wet, black void. It's naked, clothes hanging in rotted tatters from its limbs. It's eyes are puckered crevices, jaw distended, teeth long, like an angler fish's.

Your fear surges again. You see another, and another, more of these terrifying drowned wretches are spilling out of the void and into Valerie Hedgepeth's burning, flooded basement.

The couch rolls with flame, hot, oily black smoke coils to the ceiling, quickly filling the small space.

You feel claustrophobia setting in. These things don't even have to kill you, they just have to drag you down into the depths, pull you away into the midnight black waters. Smother you. Forever.

"Nemesis!"

You've got to get the fuck out of here. You turn and flee, pounding up the basement steps. Boots squishing with each step. The door at the top of the stairs opens and your sister, Candi, stands there looking extremely out of place in her cheerleader uniform.

"Wha-Kyle?" Her eyes fix on the blood cascading down your chest and widen. "Holy shit, are you okay?"

A supremely stupid question to ask a fleeing man covered in blood. "Fucking run!" you bark, giving Candi a shove. She squeals in surprise, nearly loses her footing but has enough sense to obey, racing through the house toward the garage.

You slam the basement door behind you, breathing hard, looking around for something to brace it with. Smoke leaks around the edges of the frame, puffing out from beneath the door as the fire spreads hungrily. One of those things collides with the door and it cracks. Grotesque howling and mewling follows. Probably best you don't stick around.

You pursue your sister, weaving quickly through the unfamiliar house and bursting out into the garage and then out the side door where you see Candi has already started car, a black AMC Eagle. It idles, spewing exhaust the same way the Hedgepeth home is starting to spew smoke. You hate not driving but…You circle the car, confident that Nathan Harper is still safely bound and duct taped in your trunk, then slip into the passenger seat.

"Drive," you say.

"Kyle, what the fuck?" Candi asks, looking you over. "What happened?"

"Just fucking drive," you snarl, in no mood for Candi's general obstinance. Again, to her credit, she obeys you, clumsily putting the car in reverse and nearly standing on the accelerator. You're thrown forward against the restraints and then back against the seat as she whips the car around in a tight circle and stomps the brakes. You faintly hear Nathan roll across the trunk and hit something with a groan.

"Whoops," Candi says, grinding the gearshift back to drive before accelerating away.

You're too busy checking your wound to berate her for driving like shit. The cut is pretty deep. Crimson and purple oozes from two parallel gashes on your chest. Lucky it didn't go deeper. Lucky it didn't fuck up your jacket. Ah shit, you're gonna get blood on your seats.

"What happened?" Candi presses, risking glances at you as she keeps the car on the road.

How even to begin explaining to Candi the forces that are at play here? Plus if you try to tell her it will just lead to even more questions, more explaining. "Shut up and drive," you say, opening the glove box and grabbing a handful of McDonald's napkins to blot at your wound.

Your sister makes an exasperated sound, shakes her head, but keeps driving.

The last time you saw one of those drowned monsters had been at the mall. Another spot where the Veil is weak. Seems a safe bet that they're tied to the Lake Cult. Might be a problem. Maybe. Who knows. You'll find out later you guess.

"Okay but where the fuck am I driving? Are we going home?" Candi asks, she sounds hopeful. This has been a bit much. A fun sibling bonding experience over a double murder and kidnapping really went off the rails when the occult got involved. You replay the whole scene in your mind. You can still feel Valerie's ribs chip as you stabbed her. The way she tried to twist away from you. Her blood, hot, and thick. You picture your sister's tongue extended as you drip Valerie's blood into her mouth, eyes on hers.

"Kyle," Candi presses. "Where are we going?"

You frown slightly, a shame you didn't get to savor things more. You think you really could have had a good time. Still, you suppose you've got to work out practicalities before you can have fun. Harper is a present, an offering to Virginia. Of course he's not going to go bad. He was looking fairly healthy after you beat his ass and shoved him in the trunk. Plus you're itching to get your sister back home and rip that stupid fucking cheerleader outfit off of her.

Although, you might also stop by Truesdale's place, let him know the job is done. Sure, you look like hell, but maybe he'd appreciate the promptitude. Plus maybe it would be fun to bleed on expensive carpet.


>Go straight home
>Go see Truesdale first
>Write in

>>6208048
>Honestly, he should run for office.
A remorseless, sadistic, amoral killer as a politician? This has strained my suspension of disbelief to the breaking point.

>>6208056
>Go straight home
Thought we were gonna take his car? Y'know, make he seem like he did it and all that.

>>6208058
You're right. A politician not being a smug self-superior prick and greedier than Smaug just shatters the verisimilitude.

>>6208062
>Thought we were gonna take his car?
Great point, Anon. I can't believe Kyle forgot. I'll make sure he remembers for the next bit.

>>6208056
>>Go straight home
Sort out personal business before Truesdale business

>>6208056
>Go straight home
Sacrifice this fucker to the hippie quickly, before he starts activating his own Lake cult suicide bomb in our trunk

>>6208056
>>Go straight home

>>6208056
>Go straight home

Note to self, stock car with a first aid kit including super glue, bandaids, bottled saline, bottled water, gatorade, CAT tournequets, z-fold gauze, ACE bandages, and a couple aluminum splints.

>Go straight home
Writing

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"Home," you say.

Candi nods, focusing on the road.

You toss the wad of bloody napkins on the floor and sigh. What a mess. And things were going so well. You're going to have to buy a first aid kit or something.

"Are you not taking his car?" Candi asks.

"Fuck!! God dammit." You snarl, pounding your first against the dashboard.

Candi brakes hard, the Eagle slews to one side and you're thrown forward again. This time you've had it. You turn on your sister. "Have you EVER driven a car before in your life?" You demand. "If you stomp on a pedal one more time I–"

Candi stares back at you, defiantly. Beneath that hard glare you see a glint of fear in her eyes. After a heartbeat of silence she speaks, quiet but firm. "Don't yell at me."

You close your mouth with a click of teeth. Before speaking you suck in a breath through your nose. "Someone is going to see us. Drive more gently."

She nods mutely and brings the Eagle around in a careful U-turn. "I'm just nervous," she says softly.

Nervous and going to get you guys noticed or pulled over. And then she can be nervous in prison or nervous in hell, or permanently no longer nervous. You could explain this to her. You could seize her by the hair and growl each word into her ear until she understands. But…do you really want to do that?

You force your hands and jaw to unclench
"It's alright," you say calmly, swallowing down rage and bile. "Just drive carefully."

Candi nods and you pull back up at Valerie's house. The windows are lit with flickering orange flame. "Fuck," you say. The keys…

Candi holds up the key to Harper's car and jingles it at you.

You grin at her, rage evaporated away. "Go home. Don't open the trunk. I'll see you there." You take the keys and then take his car, pulling out of the driveway and onto the road. A couple minutes away you pass another car.

You pass another car.

Your whole body tenses and you slouch down slightly in the driver's seat of Harper's BMW as you cruise by. Headlights wash over you but you maintain steady speed. Not good.

In a moment you lose them and carry on out of town, driving into the dark. You wish Candi would drive a little faster but you DID just yell at her about that. Maybe that was too much. Your overreaction only makes you angrier but again you choke it down.

Finally you reach the Mercer family farm and it's just as dreary and dilapidated as you remember. Moonlight bathes shabby outbuildings and the pines stand sentinel around it.

Candi parks and you park beside her. She gets out and circles around to lean against the Eagle facing the BMWs driver side window beside you. She folds her arms over her chest. "That was…wow." She laughs nervously. Her mask is down and her conflicting emotions war visibly on her face. Her eyes dart as she relives everything. "I uh…did you…is that what you normally do?" She gives you a guarded look.

"Normally?" You think about it. "Normally it's pretty messy. I don't remember much to be honest."

"What, like a trance?"

"I guess so."

"Are we going to get caught?" She whispers.

"No. We were careful. They won't even think to look at us. They'll be looking for the asshole." You gesture towards the trunk. Speak of the devil. You hear some weak groaning coming from the Eagle. No rest for the wicked.

"I've got to get rid of him," you say.

Candi eyes the trunk. "Right now?"

"Why not?"

She shrugs. "He's not going anywhere and…" she leans down a bit closer. "And I want to spend some time with you first." Your sister bites her lip in a way that makes you want to bite it too. "Please?"

There's no doubt what she means. You're feeling it too, that post-murder rush is still pulsing within you, begging for a release. You hardly even got to enjoy the kills themselves. But you can enjoy Candi.

You eye the trunk again. No way he can get out but…you didn't think Valerie was going through get back up either. Plus you have to figure out what to do with this car…


>Yeah, I've always got time for you
>No, this can't wait. Go clean up.
>Write in

>>6208125
Come on Candi, you should know that with lowered blood pressure from an open wound of worrying magnitude that sex becomes far less fun. Anemia is a real bonerkiller. She's trying to make Kyle pass out.

>>6208125
>Yeah, I've always got time for you
Do it right here right now if she wants it so bad. That way he doesn't get out of our sight! Genius.

>>6208125
>>Yeah, I've always got time for you
Only if we kiss though

>>6208181
Fun fact, most trunks have a release lever inside of them specifically for if someone gets trapped in the trunk for whatever reason.

>>6208190
>Only if we kiss though
As this is a Rule violation I will need to see more support of it.

>>6208191
>release lever
True, but Kyle doesn't believe in unnecessary regulations and has modified his car accordingly. Probably.

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>>6208201
>Probably.
>kyle when trying to remember anything

>>6208201
I support kissing

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>>6208216
>tfw candi says no deal

>>6208125
>No, this can't wait. Go clean up.
The hardest decisions require the strongest wills, and not fucking our sister is right up there among the hardest, but we got Wendussy to see (and the Lake monsters pouring through the tear in the rift to take care of)

>>6208237
>>6208125
Though actually I will support kissing the hell out of her right now, enough to make her knees wobble, then getting things done (as opposed to spending 4 hours fucking in the shower and trunkman becoming another Lake monster)

>>6208201
>>6208208
Also lmao imagine trusting the amnesiac's memory about anything

>>6208125
>No, this can't wait. Go clean up.
>No kissing.

>>6208125
>>6208201
To get a move on in this vote and because Im not comitted to my choice I'll change to a
>No, this can't wait. Go clean up.
With a teasing kiss when she complains.

You know, this is one of the few times I've seen anons lean towards a clearly suboptimal choice efficiency-wise.
lol.
All it took was incest.

>No, this can't wait. Go clean up.
>6208237
>6208293
>6208294

>Kiss your sister
>6208190
>6208216
>6208239
>6208294

Fucking spam protection won't let me reply

Writing

>She's trying to make Kyle pass out.
She's a good girl

>>6208237
>not fucking our sister is right up there among the hardest
It's a thankless job.

>>6208208
>Remembering
Kyle's what the kids call "Locked in"

>>6208312
>All it took was incest.
There are some really sick people in the world today.

There's a big part of you (heh) that really just wants to indulge right now. To put Candi over the trunk of the Eagle and teach her to be careful what she wishes for. But…you have another lady to please, and this one has a bit more to offer you in the long term. Plus now you're a little concerned about the monster-spewing gash in the Veil. What if it doesn't stop? Are firefighters going to run into a wall of sloughing flesh and claws? That would be pretty fucking cool, but maybe not good.

"No," you say.

Candi looks like you just dumped a bucket of ice water over her.

"This can't wait."

Irritation and desperation clash within her. She whines. An actual animal whine. But when she sees you're set on this course she scowls instead and straightens up. "Fine."

"Go clean up," you say, getting out of the Beemer. "I'll be back later."

"Sure, might as well take your time," she says, still annoyed. "I'll be asleep when you get back." It's partly true and partly a threat.

You loop an arm around her waist, palm against the small of her back, and pull her against you so you're staring down at her.

Candi gasps but doesn't resist. Her anger forgotten, her pale eyes on yours.

You smile. "I had fun tonight. There will be other times," you say. "Things for just you and me."

Her lips are pink, still stained with Valerie's blood. You can't resist anymore, you're tired of pretending you don't want it. You lean down toward her until you feel her breath on your face.

Candi gasps again, louder this time, and puts her hands on your shoulders, stopping you. "Kyle!" she blurts, looking startled.

You only grin wider, pressing on, your lips almost brush hers. Almost. But your sister pulls back, wriggling free of your embrace.

"W-what the fuck?" She stammers, looking confused, flustered.

This upsets you. "What?" you ask, frowning at her.

Candi blinks, looking shocked. "I…what…Kyle…you can't."

You laugh. You can't? You can literally get away with murder. There's nothing you can't do. When you see that Candi isn't as amused by this as you are, your irritation returns. "So I can fuck your ass but I can't give you a fucking kiss?"

Candi is at a loss. Finally she finds words. Well, one word. "No!" She blurts it, shocked. She must see from your expression that she has to give you more than that. "No," she repeats, quieter. "We can't have that."

Somehow you managed to keep your anger in check though it isn't easy. If it were anyone but Candi you would probably have blown up. "What's the problem?" you ask. "Might start to feel something for me?" Your tone is icy.

The words seem to cut her, maybe more deeply than you intended. She puts on a mask of steady resolve. "Kyle, I…you're…you're my fucking brother. Don't you get it?" Resolve becomes anger. "We can never be together. Never be happy together. Not like that."

"You worried your friends will stop inviting you to parties?" you ask, deadpan.

Candi's eyes flash angrily. She's not one to back down. "What, do you think 'Little Dark Age' is gonna play while we walk into the fucking woods holding hands or something? Roll credits?"


>I'm more of a 'After Dark Edit' type of guy.
>We can be anything we want to be. Who can stop us?
>Kiss her anyway. Whether she wants to or not.
>Write in

We should kiss a real girl. In the woods. Shaped like a monster that could fold us like fresh laundry.

>>6208370
>You wanted me to fuck you after we've committed murder. Forgive me for thinking we would be more, even if it should never happen.
What is this girl's point? That this will all more likely to go shit than have a "happy" ending? I figured that was already accepted.

>>6208379
Well dad definitely kissed her when he took her to bed. She can do hoops all she likes but it's probably that she doesn't want that association with the one person she actually loves, that being Kyle, in their special kind of fucked up way. She can kiss others and not care because they aren't Kyle. But I bet if she well and truly fell in love with someone she would not want to kiss them, either.

This has been my armchair psychology session, suggested prescription is therapy.

>>6208370
>"Then maybe we should stop fucking and go back to being a normal fucked up pair of siblings. You know I'd still love you, right?" Hug her.

>>6208370
>>6208379
Wait I think a more poignant way of putting it is
>We wanted to fuck after committing murder. Forgive me for thinking we both want to be together like that.

>>6208381
That would explain why her reasoning makes no sense.

>>6208382
>Wanting to be normal
gay

Maybe it some magic shit that breaks if we break her rules.
orrrr
She has up fuck her as punishment for what she did to us. She actually is both disgusted and turned on by the thought of being raped/incest. Its not about intimacy or love, its about guilt and horniness.

>>6208370
>>I'm more of a 'After Dark Edit' type of guy.
lmaoo

>>You are Kyle Mercer. 23 years hellbound. Killer, loving brother, blood enthusiast, all around bad news.

Talk about a "loving brother", ay?

>>6208370
>We wanted to fuck after committing murder. Forgive me for thinking we both want to be together like that.


How alike are they anyways?


I like the cutesy "i'll still love you after we stop fucking" but i doubt it will land well on Candi. This bitch is unstable, yo. Even if i REALLY want to sister-zone her. Because frankly, if she just wants to fuck and not actually be together, isn't our relationship a fucking drain on us? I'd be down to stay with the normie, whatshername, the girl that dated one of Kyle's bullies. Until she understood how fucked Kyle was in the head, of course. But Candi was there too, and i'm sure that affected the vote.

So we should drop her eventually.

We could also address the rational part of her argument, but Candi is not a rational person, really. Let's not argue semantics. If she does not want to kiss us then she doesn't.

Or "fix her" (with a knife) one of these days, 'cause she'll kill Kyle eventually, if not on purpose then by fucking up trying do be helpful..

>>6208370
>I'm more of a 'After Dark Edit' type of guy.
It's funny

>>6208370
>I'm more of a 'After Dark Edit' type of guy.
>We can be anything we want to be. Who can stop us?
>Write in
We live and shower together, watch monster movies, fuck and murder and lick blood off the same knife. Its pretty great.

>>6208370
>Write In
I don’t care about walking off into the woods or a happily ever after or any of that bullshit. I realised what I really wanted tonight, whether it’s with you or driving my knife into someone’s throat, is that I want it all.

>>6208520
You want it all? You want it ALL? Let me guess, you also want it NOW?

>>6208521
Oh my god we’re back again

>>6208370
>>Kiss her anyway. Whether she wants to or not

>>6208473
+1

>>6208381
>suggested prescription is therapy.
Self improvement is not allowed in Nemesis Quest.

>After Dark
>>6208432
>>6208461
>>6208473
>>6208594

And write ins

Writing

You expect the ending will have a lot more bloodshed to it but–"I'm more of an 'After Dark edit' type of guy," you say, giving her a calm grin, willing to deescalate.

Candi gapes at you but, surprisingly, her shock becomes amusement. Her blood-tinted lips curl into a smile. She chuckles, it's deep int he back of her throat, restrained. She shakes her head like she just can't believe you.

"Tonight I realized what I really want," you say. "I don’t care about walking off into the woods or a happily ever after or any of that bullshit. What I want…" you pause for only a moment. "What I really want is exactly what we have."

Candi says nothing.

"We live together," you say. "We shower together. We watch monster movies, fuck, murder and lick blood off the same knife and no one can stop us. It's pretty great." You shrug. "It's all I fucking want." you continue. Your grin widens. "So you'll forgive me if I thought that's what you wanted to."

It's too cold for crickets. The wind rustles the pines.

"Kyle." Candi moves closer and touches your chest again, careful of your cut. Probably should deal with that soon. She looks into your eyes, opens her mouth, seems like she might say more, but she just shakes her head again. Instead she takes another step toward you, pressing her chest against you and gripping your jacket by the lapels. Your sister stands on tiptoes and kisses your jaw. It's quick but soft. When she pulls away she backpedals slowly toward the house, not looking away from you. She smiles and she sings.

"As the hours pass I will let you know that I need to ask, before I'm alone, how it feels to rest on your patient lips to eternal bliss, I'm so glad to know."

You should probably be mad. Imagine the shame, rejected by your own sister. Only somehow you're not mad. Mostly because you're not sure she really rejected you.

Candi reaches the porch, hesitates for a moment, then turns away and hops up the steps, her cheerleader skirt flashing tantalizing glimpses of her thighs. You watch her until she closes the door behind her, then your half-grin becomes a scowl. At least you can take it out on Harper.

You open the trunk and haul him out wordlessly, ignoring his grunts and groans. You consider roughing him up a bit more but you're starting to think you might have actually really fucked his head up. He still looks totally disoriented, his eyes glazed. Probably should get him to Virginia before he fucking dies.

"On your feet." You pull him upright and shove him toward the woods. He staggers and sways, but stays upright. "Start walking. We've got a long way to go." And all you have to entertain you is imagining your sister's thighs in that skirt, her lips red. Mmm. You shove Harper forward and march into the darkness beyond.

The silent woods past the first hill aren't silent anymore. They seem to thrum and vibrate. You think it's just your own blood racing until you get nearer to the stone ring and hear a shrill horn section echoing through the woods. Music.

I'm Your Boogie Man. KC & the Sunshine Band.

Chosen for the occasion or just happy fate? Is there a difference?

Harper slows somewhat, apprehensive. He keeps glancing at you. You brandish your knife and a grim smile. "Want to end up like your bitch?" you ask.

He shakes his head.

"Then follow the disco."

The music seems to come from the stones themselves, pulsing through the air. Virginia is here dancing in the moonlight. She doesn't seem surprised to see you. "Hey baby." Her glasses flash the color of blood as she looks at Harper. "Looky here. A present for lil me?"

"Offering," you say, pushing Harper to his knees on the edge of the ring.

Virginia comes to join you, cigarette hanging form her lips. "Mmm. This one's better than the last."

"That get me anything extra?"

She flashes her teeth at you. "Just my gratitude, sugar. You're here cause you want to get stronger, that right? You want that Sacred Form. Yeah?" She rests a fingertip on her chin as she regards you. Her nail is long, sharp, red.

>That's right.
>Write in

>>6208651
We need this form more to deal with the monsters than with the humans.
>That's right.
Do inform her of the Lake Cult connection though.

>>6208651
>>That's right.

You know it. Some power that doesn't come from the Pale Thing if it ever gets uppity. Plus, fucking Lake Thing fishmen.

>>6208655
>inform her of the Lake Cult connection
Is this to tell Virginiw about Harper's connection with the Lake Cult? I want to make sure I understand.

>>6208661
Yes? What else could it be?

>>6208655
Yeah thats prolly a good idea. She probably wants to question him. Or mind break him for answers and connections.

>>6208651
>That's right.
>Inform her of the Lake Cult connection.

>>6208651
>That's right.

>That's right.
Writing

"That's right," you say, keeping a firm grip on the back of Harper's neck as he struggles slightly, moaning behind the duct tape.

"Well then you came to the right gal," Virginia says. "Bring him here."

You pull the sacrifice to his feet and lead him closer, stopping just out of her reach. "There's something else," you say.

There's a brief flash of irritation which interrupts Virginia's hungry gaze. It's replaced by curiosity.

"Oh?"

"This guy is a part of that Lake Cult." You reach down, grab a flap of the tape over his mouth and rip it off. Sounds like it hurt. Her certainly screams like it did.

"D-don't kill me!" Harper blurts. "I can tell you stuff! We can work something out. I didn't understand all that stuff about the Thing in the Lake anyway!"

Virginia's eyes flash hate behind her glasses. "Come on. Give him here."

You pass him through the barrier. It's like kicking a steak into a tiger enclosure. She grabs him by the neck and presses his back to a stone. The music has stopped.

"You live if you give me what I want," Virginia tells him. You hope she's not serious since that's not your intention.

Harper nods

"I want John Karlsson."

Harper's confusion can't be faked. "I-I don't know who that is."

"No?" Virginia lifts him effortlessly by the neck, his feet leave the ground and he starts choking. "Well think hard, sugar!"

This goes on for a while. Harper's struggles get more and more feeble, his legs kicking less and less. FInally Virginia drops him to the ground where he sputters, coughs, and gasps.

"Karlsson," She repeats, flicking away her cigarette butt and lighting a fresh one. "Reckon he's got to be your boss."

"J-just Truesdale," Harper says. "I don't know any Karlsson, just Jack Truesdale!"

"Truesdale," Virginia mutters, trying to put a face to the name. She looks irritated. Her memory is more shot than yours is. That's saying something. Finally she gives up. "Jack, how's he kin to…" She struggles, trying to recall a name. She squeezes her eyes shut. "William. How's he kin to William Truesdale?"

"I don't know," Harper says. He sounds confused, dazed.

Virginia crouches beside him, raking her fingernails across his forehead, drawing blood. "Reckon you're just distracted." She presses her nails against his eyelids. "Might think better without–" She stops.

"N-no! No! Please!"

Virginia says nothing. Hate in her expression is replaced with…horror? She stands up finally and looks at you. She looks tired. A heartbeat later her Cheshire smile is back. "Ready for your reward?"

"Always."

Seeing her become a monster is no less troubling than last time. It just happens so quickly. One minute Virginia, the next a Wendigo. You feel a spike of fear but you don't move. She stares down at you, eyes shining with that dull silver light. Of course she's even less readable like this.

Harper is screaming and crawling away.

Virginia snatches him up and lifts him high overhead, turning her back to you as she drops him into her mouth. You can't see anything, but you hear flesh and bone become a bloody, homogeneous mash. The Wendigo throws its head back, swallows, and then its Virginia again, her back still to you. She stares silently at the dark woods for a while. "Sorry you had to see all that, sugar."

You don't think she means eating Harper. "It's nothing."

Virginia turns around finally, smiling. "Reckon I lost myself there a minute." She waves a hand around her and the music starts again. She exhales smoke. "Now, where were we? Oh that's right. The Sacred Form."

She beckons you with a single finger and you approach.

She holds out her hands, fingers spread. You interlace your fingers through hers and she moves slightly closer to you. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply through her nose, tilting her head slightly. You sense that she's reading you.

"Yeah, this'll work," she says. "It'll make you strong, but it's not without a cost."

You hate hidden fees. "I thought Harper was paying for it."

"He bought it, but there's more to it than that for you." She opens her eyes, looking over her glasses at you. They're sharp in the moonlight. "Guy like you don't know when to stop. You got a hunger, don't you?"

You don't disagree.

"This'll make you hungry. You take on the Sacred Form and you have to pay with blood. Feed the beast. Don't make it go to bed hungry. Understand?"

"If I take the form then I have to use it to kill," you say.

"Mhmm. My advice? Take it for a spin somewhere you don't care about. Go to Lasker." She hesitates. "Lasker still around?"

You nod.

"Take it to Lasker and practice a little. Won't be no trouble if you keep feeding it."

"Got it." You're getting impatient, worried she'll back out on you.

"Alright honey," she says. "Let's do it to it."

You feel that familiar rush of power, a transfer. When you open your eyes again you're still staring into Virginia's eyes, still holding her hands. She lets go finally. "I think you'll like it. It suits you." She says this without inflection, good or bad. She moves away, into the shadows of one of the stones, her face momentarily lit by her cigarette cherry.


>We'll find Karlsson. Count on it.
>You know he might already be dead. I wouldn't be surprised if Truesdale got rid of him.
>Thanks. I'll bring more cigarettes next time I come. Goodnight.
>Write in

If Karlsson is dead she can still piss on his grave at least. And bring down his shitty cult alternative, whatever is left of it. Which likely means Truesdale. But that means Chip would probably die so I'm all for it.

>>6208757
>Thanks. I'll bring more cigarettes next time I come. Goodnight.
Not much more to say really.

>>6208757
Let me see if I can't get you a picture of Jack Truesdale. It'll be handy to know the face of the guy in charge.

>>6208757
>>Thanks. I'll bring more cigarettes next time I come. Goodnight.

>>6208756
Little concerning, that flash of horror. Nam-style flashback? Brother reference somewhat intended Something else? Maybe she's becoming more monstrous? Who knows
Should probably ask about who William Truesdale is, but it's been a long night for our boy. Not eager to see how powered up Pale Lad is after all these killins

>>6208757
>Thanks. I'll bring more cigarettes next time I come. Goodnight.

>>6208756
Oh, also, is Harper saying the only person he knows that sounds like a Karlsson is just Truesdale, or is he saying his boss was Truesdale, cause the latter is a little concerning and seems a little more likely given the exchange
Maybe he was info-gathering about Thing in Lake for Jack, but fucked up in some way?

>>6208818
>boss was Truesdale
Harper is saying the guy in charge of the cult is Truesdale, not Karlsson.

>>6208820
Very interesting
Mrs. Hedgepeth was the true apostate/heretic then, or there are multiple cults, or Harper's a little addled from blood-loss. There's no way our good friend and ever reliable, completely trustworthy source of money Jack Truesdale would be involved in such cultish things

>Thanks. I'll bring more cigarettes next time I come. Goodnight.

Writing

"I'll try to bring by a photo of Truesdale," you say. "Maybe it'll jog your memory."

"Could be," she says, sounding dubious about that.

"Who's William Truesdale anyway?"

"Man with the money," she says, seeming to come out of her funk a little. "Big shot. Never caused us much trouble so I had no account to cause him trouble. Reckon Jack's gotta be his kid." She looks distant again and adds nothing else.

"Thanks," you say. "For the power. I'll be sure to bring more cigarettes next time I come."

"Thanks yourself, honey. Always a joy seein you." She gives you a smile that you think might be genuine. "I think I have an idea about these here stones," she adds, nodding toward them. "Next time you come, bring a knife."

You're not sure if that should excite you or not. "I always do. Goodnight Virginia."

"Night, darlin."

You walk back alone. The moon vanishes behind clouds so you move in the dark until you finally come home. You see flickering pale light from the living room window and think Mom fell asleep watching Jesus freak TV but it's actually Candi.

"Doctor, it's alive!"

"That's impossible, nothing out there could survive. It flies in the face of science!"

Candi's watching movies. The Horror from the Year 4,000.

She's laying across the couch, still in her "Hell High" costume but she sits up when she sees you. Her expression is subdued, almost concerned.

"Come sit," she says.

You obey without question, taking a seat on the couch beside her.

"Wait here." Candi walks to the kitchen and you hear cabinets opening and closing and a sink running.

You watch the movie as the mutants start forcing their way into the bunker.

Candi returns and pulls your jacket off and gently pulls your shirt over your head. You feel a sharp pain as she presses a damp cloth to the cut on your chest.

"Hurt?" she asks, sounding worried.

You shake your head, eyes on the TV.

She keeps blotting at the wound. "This could get infected and you'll fucking die or something. I'll put some iodine on it, okay?"

You don't stop her as she tends to you, cleaning the blood off your chest, sterilizing the gash, and then bandaging it up. She leans forward slightly and for a moment you think she's going to lay a kiss on your chest, but she stops herself and sits back up, shoulder to shoulder with you, watching the movie.

"About what you said…I want what we have too," she says softly. "I don't want to lose you again."

"I'm not leaving," you say.

"I just…I want what we have right now," she says. Her hand goes to your thigh, running up and down your leg. "I want this and I want you to want it too."

You allow it. You can feel her staring at you, watching your face for … something. Anything. The damsel on the TV screams as the mutants seize her. You don't react. You've seen it before.

Candi looks away for a moment, then slides off the couch and onto her knees. She moves to kneel between your legs and you feel her hands run up your thighs and find the zipper of your fly. "Let me show you," she says softly. "Let me show you how much I like having you around."

You sit back and watch your sister while the mutants slaughter the bunker inhabitants on the TV behind her.

But enough of that you fucking degenerate. Let's talk about five years ago.

Five years ago

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. It's smudged, spattered with god knows what but you still recognize yourself despite the black eye.

Kyle Mercer. 18 years walking through Hell. Your head has mostly stopped spinning. Dad's lesson from last night slept off enough for you to function. Besides the shiner you might almost be handsome. Clear skin, roguish, messy, long blonde hair, strong jaw. Fortunately your Dad's depravity is mostly hidden from sight, bruises, scars, and cigarette burns on your arms, shoulders, back, chest, legs, places out of sight. He was normally pretty good about not leaving evidence. This time was an exception.

You're gonna learn to be strong, boy.

You hear Dad's voice in your head just before he bounced his fist off your temple. It felt like getting hit with a cement baseball. Somehow you kept on your feet before he punched you square in the eye. Lucky he didn't do real damage.

Though maybe he did.

You stare into your own pale eyes and see fear. Last night you'd realized Dad was going to kill you one day. It was just a matter of time. You were going to die here.

You wait until you hear Dad start the Eagle before coming out of the bathroom. His headlights sweep across the front of the house as he backs away in the predawn darkness and leaves for work. Satisfied that you're safe now, you go upstairs to your room. The sun isn't up and you don't turn on any lights because you don't want to wake up your sister.

You open the bedroom door as quietly as you can and peer inside. She's not on the lower bunk anymore. It's partly a relief. Last night you'd fallen asleep with her cuddling you which was a first. You'd welcomed it like a drowning man would welcome a life preserver. You needed it. Her soft words, her gentle touch, she kept you grounded, kept you still even while your head spun. When you woke up at the sounds of Dad getting ready for work she'd still been with you in bed, only this time it made you uncomfortable. The strangeness of sharing a bed with your sister had finally set in.

"Dad gone?" Candi asks, startling you. She's back on the top bunk, her eyes gleaming in the dark as she stares down at you. Like you she wears only underwear and a sleep shirt.

"Yeah."

She sits up and frowns sympathetically at you, pulling her sheets tighter around herself. "Are you okay? Your head?"

You want to tell her that you're absolutely not okay. You should probably go to the fucking hospital, and while you're at it you should probably go to the fucking police. So why don't you? It's the same reason you do everything you do. Fear.

Fear.

Fear for what Dad might do. For as bad as things are, they can always get worse.

"I'm okay," you lie, closing the door behind you. "Um. And…thanks," you say. "For last night."

She smiles at you before hopping off the bunk carefully. She puts her arms around you and holds you tight. You can feel her small, soft breasts beneath her T-shirt pressed against you. "Anything for my little bro." Feels a little weird but you rub her back slightly before slipping away from her embrace. Time to start your day.

>Do some sampling on your laptop. You've got to get your next track ready to show Miss Ellen.
>Watch a horror movie with Candi. You owe her for last night.
>Steal some money from Mom's purse. You need cash to buy weed from Ralphie.
>Write in

>>6208853
>Let's talk about five years ago.
Look man I told you it was a one time thing and it was twenty whole fucking dollars.

>>6208855
>Flashback arc
Shit we're gonna die, that iodine was years expired More likely Candi's gonna fucking die fuck you neh-me-sis
Torn between Ralphie and music, music because that's us (and there's some hidden code in it), Ralphie because that dude showed up for five seconds in the last thread yet he might be the linchpin behind everything (lmao)
>Do some sampling on your laptop. You've got to get your next track ready to show Miss Ellen.

>>6208855
>>Do some sampling on your laptop. You've got to get your next track ready to show Miss Ellen.

>>6208855
>Watch a horror movie with Candi. You owe her for last night.

>>6208855
>>Do some sampling on your laptop. You've got to get your next track ready to show Miss Ellen.

>>6208855
>>Do some sampling on your laptop. You've got to get your next track ready to show Miss Ellen.

>Do some sampling on your laptop. You've got to get your next track ready to show Miss Ellen.
Writing

You slide your laptop out from under the bed and sit, powering it on and getting to work. This latest track is far from flawless. Far, even, from good. But it's a measurable improvement over your older stuff. You hate to praise yourself too highly but you're getting a lot better, getting better at a rate that to you is astounding. Maybe Miss Ellen is right, maybe you do have a talent. Maybe that talent is the key to getting out of here.

You lose yourself in the work, cutting in audio samples you pulled from some of Candi's favorite horror movies. As you think of your sister you glance up. She's over by her dresser, digging through clothes and pulling out an outfit.

Anything for my little bro.

You feel like maybe more needs to be said. Dad had left you hurting before, broken, battered, but last night was new, something beyond the normal "lessons." it crossed over from merely cruel into outright deadly. When you cried in Candi's arms last night you thought that you might die. Waves of nausea swept over you and you felt utterly hopeless.

It's going to be okay. Shhh.

Candi had brushed your hair with her fingers as she cooed in your ear.

It meant the world to you. How could you have gotten through that without her there?

Your sister lifts her sleep shirt up and over her head so now she's only wearing panties, exposing her bare back to you. You look away as she starts pulling on long sleeve fishnet top.

"God, at least warn me next time," you mutter.

Candi glances over her shoulder at you, nonplussed. "Turn around if you're so sensitive."

You roll your eyes and keep working, trying not to watch as she slides a T-shirt on over the mesh top. She could at least wear a bra when you're around… You'd always liked sharing a room with your sister when you were younger. You guys had always just gotten along, playing monster in the woods, watching shitty movies. It was nice. Nice until early high school and you started noticing things about girls you hadn't noticed before. Noticing them about your sister.

You keep your eyes on your monitor as Candi finishes dressing. Once she's pulled on a pair of loose black cargo pants she sits on the bed next to you. "New song?"

You nod. "Yeah. Almost done. I'm trying to get it done to show Miss Ellen."

"Oh. Are you staying after school again?" Her tone is neutral, but you know why she's asking. She doesn't want to be home alone.

A spike of guilt shoots through you but you don't react. "Maybe." You're not sure if you can face Dad again after yesterday. You're too scared. Scared whatever he did last time will be worse this time. Scared that you won't survive another "lesson."

"Well…if you do I can pick you up," Candi rises from the bed and starts collecting her stuff, shoving books into her bag.

You finish arranging the track just as the sun breaches the horizon. Better get out to the bus stop. You grab your camo jacket and backpack, following Candi wordlessly downstairs.

Mom is here getting ready for work, looking up as you both pass by. Her eyes slide across Candi without pause before stopping on you. "Better hurry up so you don't miss the bus," she says. Somehow you can tell she's talking to you specifically. "I don't have time to take you to school today."

"Okay, Mom," you say.

"I'll need the truck after school if Kyle stays," Candi says, not looking at Mom.

Mom finally looks at her daughter, eyes narrowing slightly. Suspicion? Dismay? "Fine."

You push open the front door and move into a chilly morning. Candi pulls her own jacket on and the two of you wait at the end of the driveway for the bus. A minute later Mom leaves with the truck, leaving you and Candi alone.

"Why's Mom such a fucking bitch to you?" you ask, unable to help yourself.

Candi kicks a couple rocks across the driveway. "She's jealous," she says. "About Dad."

"Oh." That feeling of helpless guilt and fear comes over you again. "I didn't–"

"It's fine," Candi says, giving you a playful smile. Her mask. You're almost insulted she would use it on you, but you know she's just trying to spare your feelings

"Well…I don't get how that's your fault," you say. "Pretty fucked up."

"Cause she's a stupid old cunt," Candi says. "Not enough brain cells to rub together."

This line of conversation is only making you feel more guilty. "Well fuck her. She's a bitch."

Candi chuckles softly, but it doesn't sound very sincere.

Silence reigns until the bus finally arrives, crawling up the winding back country road and slowing to a stop, lights flashing. The two of you get on board, sitting by yourselves. Hardly anyone else is on the bus. Yours is one of the first stops.

You have a few minutes to yourself and you get ready, taking out your MP3 player and unwinding your headphones. Your heart is beating a little faster as the bus slows to a stop at the end of Annie's driveway. Sometimes her dad drives her to school, but you're happy to see her waiting. She gets on the bus, grinning at you, passes Candi and sits down with you.

"Hey dude," Annie says, chipper and upbeat.

"Hey," you say, trying not to sound as excited as you feel. "It's pretty cold so I thought maybe your dad would drive you."

She shakes her head. "Nah, he had stuff to do." She tucks her hair behind her ear and puts her bag between her feet as the bus rumbles into motion again. You're sitting almost hip to hip which is nice. It is pretty damn cold on this bus and body heat from anyone is welcome, but especially Annie.

Annie. Tall, fun, pretty, and–honestly–stacked. These are all plusses for you. The biggest is that she seems to actually like you. Nothing about your weird loner vibe bothers her. In fact, she's smiling at you expectantly.

"So?" she says.

Your eyes linger on her full lips. "So?"

"So!" Annie replies with mock frustration. "You said you were gonna have a new song for me!"

Ah. The truth. It wasn't just Miss Ellen you wanted to impress. Really it was Annie. You grin at her, trying to play it cool. "Sure do." You offer her an earbud. "Wanna listen?"

"Duh!" Annie scoots a little closer and each of you put one earbud in. You hit play.

It's bliss, sharing a moment like this with her. It makes you forget about last night, makes you feel like maybe you have a future after all. Her eyes and smile widen as the hook hits. She bobs along with the beat, eyes focused on nothing in particular, all her attention on your song. When it ends she looks at you excitedly. "Oh, this rocks!" she says, touching your knee. "Shit, this is so good! Really catchy too. You don't normally do the whole 'pop' thing."

Your grin verges on embarrassed. "I…wanted to try something new. Something danceable." You wanted to try something she might like more.

"It's so good!"

"Thanks."

You've been thinking about making a move for a while now. Annie is single. You're single. There's really no reason not to. Well, except for fear. You have plenty of that. Fear of rejection, fear of commitment, fear of losing your best friend by crossing some line. Maybe you should go for it. Maybe you should half ass it. Maybe you should leave well enough alone.


>Maybe if you're up to it we could do something after school today together.
>Did you want to hang out at lunch? I've got some other songs I could use your opinion on.
>Want to listen to it again? We've got some time before we get to school.
>Write in

>>6209097
>Did you want to hang out at lunch? I've got some other songs I could use your opinion on.

>>6209097
What a happy cheery normal highschool boy
>Did you want to hang out at lunch? I've got some other songs I could use your opinion on.
Can't leave Candi to the sharks, probably, even if we might fucking die, time to be a man and take the beatings
Also I guess us killing Dad really affected Mom huh

Doesn't Kyle have a blackeye right now? Is she not gonna mention it or does she usually just ignore stuff like that on Kyle.

>>6209143
Considering she didn't mention anything while Chip stomped our head in, I'm thinking the latter

>>6209143
>Doesn't Kyle have a blackeye right now
Fuck. Whoops. Yes, that's my bad. Meant to have Annie notice it, but she doesn't comment on these things. Always acts as if everything is normal which Kyle actually appreciates.

>>6209152
>>6209145
I was actually thinking Kyle would appreciate her not mentioning it anyways lol

>>6209097
>>Did you want to hang out at lunch? I've got some other songs I could use your opinion on.

>Did you want to hang out at lunch? I've got some other songs I could use your opinion on.
>>6209137
>>6209141
>>6209227

Writing

"Did you want to hang out at lunch?" You ask. "I've got some other songs I could use your opinion on."

Annie's eyes light up. "Sure! Yeah. Obviously." She covers her mouth and laughs. It's a nervous habit. It's cute. Oh no, you're blushing a little. You make a production about putting your MP3 player back in your bag, wrapping the cord and looking down so she can't tell. Afterwards things lighten up a bit more. You and Annie talk about class, gossip, whatever, as the bus makes stop after stop, gradually filling up.

Ralphie's stop is one of the last since he lives so close to school. He looks like he just woke up when he gets on. It's foreign to you since you've always been an earlier riser. Ralphie shuffles down the aisle as the bus starts off. He's wearing a beanie, hoodie, and jeancos with leopard print back pockets. His wallet chain swings with each step.

"Sup, Candi," he says to your sister in passing. He adds, "sup dude," as he sits across the aisle from you.

"Where do you shop for clothes, man? Goodwill?" You ask, pleased to see Annie stifle a laugh.

"Ha." He stretches out in the otherwise empty seat, jamming his backpack beside him as an improvised pillow. "Fucking tired, bro." He seems to suddenly notice your black eye. You see his eyes fix on it but–like Annie–he doesn't say anything. He knows why you have it even though you've never told him. "Didn't sleep much."

"That sounds like a 'you' problem."

"Fucking Counter-strike, man. Office. No AWPs. Up all goddam night," Ralphie rubs his eyes again.

Candi laughs. You hadn't even been aware she was listening in until you catch her looking back over her seat toward you and Ralphie. "If you can't sleep you're just not smoking enough," she teases.

Ralphie flashes her a grin which vanishes just as quickly. "Man, weed is like steroids for Counter-strike." He looks at you. "You know what I mean."

You do, but not by experience. You've played a little at school with Ralphie, during lunch and shit, but never high. You awkwardly switch places with Annie so you don't have to talk over to her. "Wish we could do a game today but I've got plans." You're very excited about those plans. Your heart is butterflies.

Ralphie seems unfazed. "Sure, man. Whenever. I'll probably catch up on my sleep or something."

The bus turns out of the suburbs and finally approaches Roselake High, joining a line of other buses unloading wave after wave of students.

"After school maybe?" He asks.

You're still not sure if you're going to stay with Miss Ellen, but you're sure not going to go get stoned and play vidya and leave Candi home alone. Not today. "Plans," you say.

"Busy guy," he says. He opens his backpack, takes out a notebook, and begins to doodle. It's full of pencil sketches of naked women and violence though never in the same image. His work is of surprising quality. The dude is a stoned Rembrandt and could probably make good money on commissions if he did digital art. And if he had anything like a work ethic. You're pretty sure he'll still be selling weed out of his mom's garage five years from now and you expect he'll consider that a success.

The bus stops and everyone starts filtering out. "Bye, Kyle. I'll meet you at lunch by my locker," Annie says.

"Sounds good!" Oh, that was way too enthusiastic, you spaz. How embarrassing.

Annie covers her mouth and giggles again before she gets off the bus.

Somehow your sister ends up in line beside you. "What a social butterfly you are," she teases, prodding your ribs with a fingertip.

"Cut it out," you hiss, knocking her hand away, embarrassed to have your sister fawning over you like that.

She gives you a smug smile before wiping it away. "Let me know if you're going to stay after school before I get on the bus, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Guilt.

Candi breaks off, going to her homeroom.

"Man, your sister is fine," Ralphie says, watching her go a little too intently.

You scowl at him. "Shut up, dude."

"Nah man, I speak truth to power," He says. "She's fine. Ain't afraid to say it."

"Say it again and I'll kick your ass!" You laugh.

He grins back and you both assume DBZ fighting stances as you crack up.

You're nearly to your homeroom class when Ralphie suddenly stops you with a hand to the chest. "Hey."

"What?"

He looks around the quickly emptying hallway. "Fuck history. Fuck Mr. Cook. Let's skip. I didn't do the assignment or whatever anyway."

Oh fuck. The fucking essay. God, your memory could not get any worse!

"Shit," you say, trying desperately to think of a way out of this mess. You're going to get reamed. Cook is cool but not about missing work. You will be made example of.

"Come on, man, let's just bounce," Ralphie says, siren-like.


>Skip first block with Ralphie
>Better face the music, skipping will just make things worse
>Write in

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>6209310
1. Skip
2. Do not

>>6209310
>>Better face the music, skipping will just make things worse
Running and hiding makes things worse. Or has Kyle not been listening to his Father?

>>6209310
>>Better face the music, skipping will just make things worse

>>6209310
>>Skip first block with Ralphie

>>6209310
>>6209330
I'll switch to
>Better face the music, skipping will just make things worse
If it means getting an update.

>>6209310
This may be slightly pessimistic
Skip, get call home, get beaten
Face it, made an example of, maybe call home get beaten?

This is young Kyle after all. Did he prefer to run away from his problems if possible or face them. Though a problem that is just a bit of public humiliation vs getting knocked the fuck out.

>Write in
All these other teachers don't even try to help, not like Miss Ellen. At a certain point they are just worthy of contempt. No better then the kids who want to stay just popular enough to make life easy. Walk right up to Mr Cook, look him in the eye, and tell him to check his email we totally sent it in.

>Better face the music, skipping will just make things worse
>>6209344
>>6209372
>>6209500
>>6209558

Writing

"Nah," you say. "I'd better face reality." You're also a little worried Dad will find out you skipped. There was never any telling what would set him off. He'd caught you smoking weed once and just took it from you, another time you didn't clean your room and he'd beat you till you puked.

"Reality sucks," Ralphie says with a shrug. "But I get it." He backs away before Cook sees him. He's not going to stick around regardless if you do. "Later, dude."

"Later."

You step into the classroom. A line has already formed at Cook's desk, students laying down their essays like a row of vassals paying tribute to their liege lord. You get in line anyway, trying not to look too miserable.

"Very good, very good. Thank you," Cook says. He looks up when you reach him, mouth opening. He hesitates, eyes on your bruise. You take the chance to speak.

"I was out of printer paper. I emailed you," you say.

The lie registers. Cook is a smart guy, as weird as he is. He closes his mouth and stares back long enough to let you know that he knows this is a lie. "Didn't see it," he says. "But I'll check again. You might need to resend it when you get home."

"Yeah," you say, turning away. As if that's doing you a favor.

You take a seat near the back and spend the class trying not to fall asleep. He's going on about the Revolutionary War and a POW massacre or something. Cook is kind of a brutal, gruesome guy. Normally it makes for an entertaining class, but right now you're in no mood. You can't help but reflect on how unfair everything is. When you were little–really little–you'd never had to worry about having a normal life. It was a given. Sure, you were poor, kind of hick-y, a little odd, but you'd wanted nothing more than to just grow up and be happy.

Dad had stolen that from you.

You scratch a couple tiny Xs on your desk with a paperclip while you endure. Resolving instead to think of happier things, you start day dreaming about Annie. Her hair, her eyes, her lips, her neck…her boobs. Weirdly, as attracted to her as you are you're not even really about that. Well, not only about that. She just gets you. She meshes with you. Makes you feel good. She's going places. She has a dream, ambition, a future. Her family has money and she's not going to end up stuck here like everyone else. She's going to make it.

And maybe…maybe you're going to make it with her.

After class you duck out, avoiding Mr. Cook. Second block is a blur. You suck at math but no one really seems to expect you not to. Finally. Finally, it's time for lunch. You're way too nervous to be hungry. You don't even consider swinging by the cafeteria, you're going straight for Annie's locker. It's on the second floor of the school toward the back side, away from everything else, near the new science wing and your English class.

"Stop it, Chip."

Your blood freezes. Annie's voice, cold, firm, but a little afraid.

"Aw why? I'm just having fun." Chip. Now your blood boils.

You round the corner and see Annie backed against her locker, glaring hard at Chip who leans beside her, a finger trailing over her shoulder.

"We used to be such good friends, what changed?"

"I didn't know any better when I was a kid. Plus you became a fucking creep," she shoots back icily.

You can't help but feel like she's being remarkably brave since it's not just Chip she's facing down but his whole little posse. David, Allan, Jeff, Arthur, and Ken, looming behind all of them, chuckling like a retard.

"Nah, give me a chance, you'll like me," Chip says. "Let's try my place after school, huh?"

No one has noticed you yet.

"Fuck you," Annie says. "Leave me alone."

You're frozen, staring down an otherwise empty hallway at all this, still unnoticed.


>Hide and wait for Chip to leave, you can't risk a confrontation
>Approach and tell him to leave Annie alone
>Write in

>>6209597
Mr Cook is cool
Damn are we really about to get beat again? Also they sure don't seem like a happy couple, but I feel like I can predict the future, and I'm thinking it involves threats and falling for the guy since he has problems too
So, in an attempt to avoid the future I conjured up in my mind, I'm taking the bitch way out
>Hide and wait for Chip to leave, you can't risk a confrontation

>>6209597
>Approach and tell him to leave Annie alone
Last thread Annie mentioned ending up with Chip was not what she wanted, I wonder what she meant by that.

>>6209643
Chip's gonna tell her to go out with him or else he'll beat us to a pulp

>>6209597
>Write in
Well if this part of school is near English Class then so is Miss Ellen. Grab her so she can break this up.

I wonder if these write ins are too sensible. Maybe he should pull the fire alarm instead. Grab something nasty from the science wing.

>>6209662
>Grab her so she can break this up
It's too close actually. Everyone will see you go to her room. Unless you don't care about being spotted sprinting into a nearby classroom or whatever.

>>6209597
>Hide and wait for Chip to leave, you can't risk a confrontation

>>6209597
Don't be so cowardly, guys. We are not known to make good decisions.

>Casually walk by
>Hook Chip's leg to throw him off balance and off Annie
>Use our training from hell strenght to give him a black eye
>Take it like a man when the impeding beatdown comes down on us

>>6209597
>Kick Ken in the balls from behind.
Let's just keep fucking Ken up in nearly every flashback.

>>6209628
>>6209597
So that we can get an update quicker and because the cucking is inevitable anyway I'll switch my vote to some flavor of fighting them
>Approach and take the beatings like a man

>>6209885
>So that we can get an update quicker
Sorry for the long delay, anons. This month is going to be a rough one for me. There's not really any speeding updates at this point. I'm updating when I have the time to, but I do appreciate the enthusiasm.

>Approach
>>6209885
>>6209755
>>6209730
>>6209643

Writing

>>6209899
No worries bro, do what you need to
Your update speed is pretty insane by most standards anyway

You're scared. But then again, you're always scared. Not like Chip can do anything worse than Dad. At least if you're going down, you're going to make it count. You start toward them, forcing yourself to walk slow, steady, not giving away anything.

"Or what?" Chip asks Annie. "You gonna hurt me?" He holds up his hands in a mock plea.

"If I have to," she says, still trying to sound brave. This is when she notices you. Her eyes flick from Chip to you and the sudden hope in her expression gives you strength.

Chip notices her attention shift and starts turning. This is as close as you're going to get. If you're going to get your ass beat you might as well make it count. You feel particularly like punishing Ken, you can't really say way. He's a big asshole. More pragmatically he's also the biggest threat here. Maybe if you play your cards right you can at least drive them off. It starts with taking Ken out of the picture. You haul back and deliver a powerful kick up between his legs. Your aim is a little off, you don't think you actually succeeded in crushing his balls, but he grunts loudly, jumps away, and cups himself. It will have to be enough.

Chip's playful grin becomes a snarl as he sees you.

You swing a fist at Allan who barely steps back, your knuckles clipping his cheek. "Fuck!"

Annie lets out a stifled cry of surprise, covering her mouth with both hands.

"What the fuck!?" David blurts, whirling around.

You swing at Allan again who back pedals in surprise, his back hitting the locker. This time you succeed in hitting him square in the face, but his back pedaling robbed your attack of most its force. Instead there's just a dull thud, bone on flesh, his head rocks to the side, but not enough to put him out.

"You shit," Chip snarls. His fist catches you in the back of the head and pain explodes through your skull. You feel a fresh wave of nausea, it seems like you're not as recovered form Dad's beating as you hoped. Instantly you forget Ken, forget Allan, David, all these assholes. You're locked onto Chip like a pitbull on an unsupervised toddler. You're going to hurt him if you can. Big if.

You shout wordlessly as you grapple with him, delivering a strong blow to his face, giving him a copy of your own black eye. Seeing Chip's head snap back is beyond gratifying, the throbbing pain in your knuckles doesn't even register on you. You go for a second blow but are robbed of this crowning triumph as Ken's meaty hand claps around your wrist like a manacle. It draws you back, as inexorable as the tide, pulling you away from Chip.

"Pissant," Allan says, swinging at you. Somehow you flinch away enough that all he does is clip the side of your head. It just happens to be exactly where Dad punched you last night. You cry out as a lance of pain shoots through your again.

"Stop it! Stop!" Annie cries in horror. "Don't hurt him!" She doesn't have a chance of stopping this. Jeff has her by the arm, pulling her away from the fight so she can't intervene.

Now it's Chip's turn. You're utterly unable to fight back as he punches you in the stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of you. If Ken weren't holding you up you would have doubled over. Instead you just wheeze and see stars for a moment. Chip holds his face with one hand. "Oh, you are fucking dead, Mercer."

"Excuse me? What's going on here!?" Miss Ellen's voice, sharp and clear, cuts the air.

Chip and his guys freeze, caught in the act, everyone looking momentarily flat footed. Ken releases you and everyone takes a healthy step back. David releases Annie who looks horrified, shocked, at a loss for words.

True to his own wormy nature, Chip is all smiles in an instant. "Just goofing around, Miss Ellen," he says. "Rough housing." Unlike you, Miss Ellen can give Chip real consequences for his bullshit.

You try not to cough or hold your stomach. Instead you make an effort to stand up straight. You really don't need Annie and Miss Ellen seeing you have your ass beat. You're pretty good about hiding pain, so you give it your all.

Miss Ellen stands in the doorway over her classroom in jeans and a loose blouse, her hair in a messy pony tail, arms crossed. She's trying to look angry, stern, but you know her pretty well. She just looks worried, horrified even. "Rough housing," she repeats, utterly unconvinced. "Kyle?" She looks to you for the truth.


>Yeah, just playing around. Nothing serious
>They were bothering Annie, I came to stop them
>Write in

>>6209918
>Remain silent, just give her the look
Back to the good ol patented Kyle classic

>>6209918
>Remain silent, just give her the look
I didn't like either of the prompts and this does feel more appropriate.

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>>6209918
>Remain silent, just give her the look.

>Remain silent, just give her the look
>>6209919
>>6209921
>>6209924

Writing

>>6209916
Thanks Anon. I try. I'm eager to move things forward.

>>6209918
>Yeah
but we can say it unconvincingly

You stare blankly back at her, pain throbbing in your head and gut. Nausea washes over you. Damned if you do. Damned if you don't. There's nothing Miss Ellen can do to help you anyway.

She stares back for a moment but her shoulders sag slightly in defeat. "You boys get to lunch. Now," she says, words edged with genuine anger, or is that frustration? What's the difference really?

Chip's posse chuckles victoriously as they meander off. "Bye, Miss Ellen," Ken coos playfully.

"See you after school, asshole," Chip says, flashing you a friendly grin and clapping a hand on your shoulder.

Great.

Miss Ellen chews her lip as she studies you. She looks uncertain, like she doesn't know what to do now. Maybe she really doesn't. "Kyle do you need–"

"I'm fine," you say, not willing to show any weakness. "Thanks." You turn away form her to look at Annie, dreading what you'll see. Yep. There it is. Concern.

"Are you alright?" She asks, voice low enough that Miss Ellen can't hear it.

"Yeah." A lie, but whatever.

"God Kyle, I thought…" she shakes her head, long hair swinging. "I'm glad you're alright." A pause. "Thank you for coming. I'm sorry that you got hurt because of me." She looks like she let you down somehow.

"Chip's an asshole," you say. "I wasn't going to let him fuck with you." Well, you were going to try anyway. You and Annie start down the hall as you try not to wince from the pain in your stomach.

Miss Ellen watches you go by, still with that look of uncertain worry. At least she doesn't say anything. You don't think you could stand it.

You and Annie have a place, a classroom in the science wing that's pretty much never used. It's a great spot to have a private lunch. You check that the coast is clear and slip inside, closing the door softly behind you.

"I can't believe you did that," she says, sounding equally impressed and worried. Her sneakers squeak on the linoleum floor as she crosses it and hops up to sit on one of the science station tables.

"Chip doesn't scare me," you say. A partial lie, but there are things to be more afraid of, like what Chip plans to do to you after school, or what your Dad will do when he sees someone else has been beating his son. "I wasn't going to let him do anything."

Annie's concern becomes a grateful smile. "He's such a creep." She looks away. "When we were kids we used to play together. Our dads did the whole Lake party thing."

"Lake party?" She forgets that you're not rich sometimes.

She looks momentarily embarrassed. "It's this weird fancy party thing that they do. Mostly at Chip's house, sometimes other places. A bunch of families get together, chat, eat, go boating when it's warm or whatever. It's like a big stupid social club. Chip used to be okay." She shrugs. "I mean we were really little. He got less okay as he got older until, like magic, he became the charming specimen he is today."

"People change," you say.

"I just think people's true selves come out," she says, wrinkling her nose. "There's a lot of that on the Lakefront. People get all…I don't know…uppity? Stuck up?" She gives you a look to see if you know what she means.

You do.

"It's like someone gets six figures and a couple acres on the water and suddenly they're too good to like…eat a cheeseburger." She laughs, covering her mouth self-consciously. She looks a little more serious. "I never want to be like that."

"You? Annie Liddell? Stuck up? No chance," you say, smiling at her even though your head is pounding. "I'll worry when you buy a boat or something."

She laughs again, hand over her mouth, as is her style. "You're funny."

There's a silence–a strange silence as she stares at you expectantly. You stare back, feeling uncharacteristically emboldened. If you're going to die tonight you might as well enjoy today.

"Kyle?"

"Hmm?"

She blushes a little. "Aren't we listening to music?"

Shit. "Yeah, duh." You dig your MP3 player out and hook it up, giving Annie the earbuds. Watching someone else listen to your work is normally painful, embarrassing in the extreme, nerve wracking. It's like undressing in front of someone for the first time. You assume. Annie makes it easy though. The music listening, not the undressing. Her enthusiasm is genuine and unrestrained. It's like she has no filter, just shows what she feels. Probably because she never had to learn to hide herself.

You love that about her. In a way, you're a little jealous of her too. Maybe you can learn to be like that too. Open. Honest. Real.

"This is so good!" She says after a couple songs. "God, you need to make an album or something! Or put it on Spotify! How do musicians even get published anymore?"

Fuck if you know. Maybe Miss Ellen will know. One thing at a time. You'll have plenty of time to worry about that after graduation.

Graduation. The thought is both exhilarating and terrifying. Freedom for good and ill. You need to start figuring out a plan to get away from home, take Candi and get out. You can find a job somewhere that isn't the mill so you don't have to see Dad and she can do…whatever. Then you can have your own place, your own rooms, your own life. If you can survive Dad.

If.

"Who knows," you say. "I think I missed the music industry with cigars and coke parties."

Annie laughs again. Damn, you're on a roll. "Well when you're famous, don't forget about me, okay?" She says.


>Why don't you come with me? We can be famous together.
>I never forget the little people.
>I doubt I'll ever get that far.
>Write in

>>6209949
Time to undress in front of her for the first time to study 'anatomy' in this science room since it's so easy (this is a joke)
>Why don't you come with me? We can be famous together.

Annie's a plant. Chip's got a demon in his asshole. Candi got her brother possessed. Dad got his canoe of a skull emptied, once with buckshot and once with evil worms. Ellen got the fuckin' brand of sacrifice on her. Goddammit is there anyone in this armpit of a town that doesn't have the devil in them? Fuck.

Good thing Virginia just has a mean gremlin in her and not a full blown hellspawn. Clearly she is good people.

>>6209968
Mr Cook is the true hero of this tale

>>6209986
I don't know why but that gave me a split second image of Mr. Cook and various cultists breaking into his house with the "I HATE THE ANTICHRIST" meme.

>captcha: DGKKK
Alright slow down there grand wizard lmao

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>>6209998

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>>6210007
Fucking gold kek

>>6210007
Truly peak. Bless you.

>>6209968
>is there anyone in this armpit of a town that doesn't have the devil in them

Ralphie and Mr. Cook with a sort of "Jesse Pinkman and Walter White" vibe.

>>6209949
>Why don't you come with me? We can be famous together.
Simping is cringe but this is the cringe arc.

>>6210007
Nice meme.

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>>6210013
Ralphie's already setting it up with his cat and mouse game of ditching class with Mr Cook
I'm gonna need the story of their misadventures, thanks

>>6210013
>"Mr. Cook, man we gotta grow!"
>"Shut the fuck up, Ralphie!"
Now we just gotta check up on Mr. Cook. Gotta find out if he's schizo-ing about the weirdness in the town or just brushing it off as small town shenanigans. How WOKE is he, really? kek

>>6209949
Fuck, what's Annie's last name again? Liddell? Okay.

"When you make it out of here, don't forget about me either. deal?"

>Why don't you come with me? We can be famous together.
>>6209951
>>6210015

Writing.

Apologies for the delay.

You hesitate, but only for a moment. You're sick of being afraid. You want something better. "Just come with me," you say. You try to sound casual but it fails, you come across way too earnest. "We can be famous together." You give Annie a half grin and your heart flutters.

Annie looks surprised, but only for an instant. Then she looks…happy.

"Only if there's space for me," she says.

"There will always be space for you," you say, unable to not say it.

You're both leaning subtly closer, inch by inch, as if drawn by gravity. You're lost in her eyes. She keeps glancing at your lips. Neither of you speaks.

Her eyes drift closed and she leans in closer. This is it.

You go for it. How could you not? Your lips touch hers and she leans into the kiss without reservation. You feel the breath from her nose on your face, light and fast. It's soft. You take her by the back of the head and she lets you, kissing you back more firmly. It feels like your heart is trying to escape your chest but it's good. God, it's so good.

It's your first kiss. Well…not really, but it's your first real kiss. Obviously stuff when you were a little kid doesn't count. Everyone experiments a little when they're that age. Probably best not to dwell on that now.

The kiss doesn't end, it just keeps going, your lips meeting again and again. You wish it could last forever but at some point you have to break for air. You try not to pant, try not to look out of breath. You find yourself staring into her eyes as she grins back at you, unrestrained. You grin and she laughs. She doesn't cover her mouth this time.

You both go for a kiss again but your noses bump and you each pull back self consciously.

"Whoops," she says.

"S-sorry," you blurt.

Then you both laugh again but no one makes another move. You want to ask if she wants to keep kissing but intrinsically you know you can't ask stuff like that without looking dorky. Annie bites her lip in a way that makes you want to bite it too.

She opens her mouth to say something but the school bell rings over it. Lunch is over.

"Shit."

Annie laughs, hand over her mouth. "Kyle…that was…" She's a little flustered but unmistakably happy. She can't think of the words. Instead she hops off the table. "Let's do it again soon. We've got a lot of missing time to make up for." She laughs nervously.

"Yeah," you say. There's another awkward moment where you wonder what the etiquette is here. Do you say thanks? Shake her hand? Give her a hug? Annie spares you from your suffering with a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. She whispers in your ear. "Bye, Kyle." Then she leaves. She pauses in the doorway to give you a big, happy smile, and then hurries out, a spring in her step.

"Bye," you say to the empty classroom. Your head is spinning. Good spinning and bad spinning. Fuck. Now that the adrenaline of kissing Annie is wearing off you're really starting to feel like shit. You sit down on the floor, back against some cabinets and cradle your head in your hands. You need to lay down. You're going to need rest, especially if Chip is going to jump you after school.

You curl up in the shadow of a table, stuffing your rolled up jacket under your head. You close your eyes and think of Annie, her lips, her smell. You think of how exactly you're going to make up that missing time. You think about what you're going to do when Chip comes to kill you. You fall asleep within a minute.

You awake at the fourth block bell, jerking upright. It's time for English class. It's time to face Miss Ellen. Pulling your jacket back on and brushing your hair out with your fingers you leave, hurrying out of the science wing and finding Miss Ellen's classroom.

She's sitting at her desk reading as the students come in. It's a ratty, well-loved copy of the Hobbit. Fortunately for you she doesn't look up when you enter, or at all until everyone is in their seats. You watch her tear her eyes from the page reluctantly. A sort of weight seems to settle over her as she looks over the class, her eyes lingering for a moment on you.

"Good afternoon everyone," she says with what sounds like enthusiasm. "I hope you're all rested, fed, and ready for some reading. We're going to be reading through Our Town together." She marks her page, puts the book down and stands, adjusting her glasses. "It's one of my most favorite plays and, although it's a little old, I think it will speak to everyone here. Let's assign some roles. Who wants to be the Stage Manager?"

You spend the class watching her like a TV on mute. Her words are lost on you but the tone is soothing, placid. It makes you happy just hearing her go on about theme and symbology and whatever. She occasionally writes a word on the white board, marker squeaking. Her hand glides across the surface effortlessly, letters flowing from the pen. Your eyes flick to her butt ass he stands on tiptoe to write something higher on the board.

You look away quickly. Does that count as cheating now? Probably not since Annie isn't actually your girlfriend. Or is she? How do you make that official? Well…you guess you should probably ask her. God, that's going to be more awkward now that you've kissed, isn't it? Something tells you it's going to be worse than the Heavy Metal 2000 fiasco.

The final bell rings.

"That's it everyone, remember to do your readings," Miss Ellen calls as the students evacuate like it's the fucking Titanic. "I want to have some interesting discussion next class!" She glances your way but tries to hide it, looking busy cleaning the white board.

You make a show of packing your bags, delaying until everyone else is gone. When you do stand finally you approach her desk slowly.

She finishes wiping down the board and looks back as if she's surprised to see you. "Hey, Kyle," she says. She tries to give you a natural smile. Her attempt to be cool about your black eye is almost touching, but she can't hide her genuine concern and horror. "How's–" she doesn't say 'life'. "Things?"

"Not bad," you say. Actually the truth. You finally have something to look forward. "You said you wanted to listen to some of my music. I finished another track."

"Oh awesome! How cool," she says. "I always do. Come on, we can do that in the music room." She picks up her book, shuts the lights off, and locks the classroom behind her. "I hope…you got everything resolved with Chip."

It's "resolved" in that Chip has resolved to kill you after school. He's probably out there waiting for you now, just at the edge of the bus stop where they can beat you out of sight of anyone who might intervene.

You ignore the non-question.

As you walk the emptying school halls she keeps looking at your eye. She wants to ask about it. She doesn't.

You both pass through the main hall, cutting across a line of students filing out. You see your sister leaning against the wall by a bank of anachronistic pay phones. When she sees you she comes over.

"Hi, Candace," Ellen says.

"Hey," Candi says before looking at you. "So did you want me to come pick you up in a couple hours?"

It would give you a respite from Dad and home and–maybe more importantly–it would spare you from Chip kicking the shit out of you. He'll be long gone by the time you leave. If you go out there now there's no chance you can avoid him. Once Chip is done with you you'll probably have to face Dad. He's not going to be happy seeing how "weak" his son is. He'll probably decide you need toughening up. You don't know how many beatings a human body can take in one day but you don't want to take any more.

It's probably not too long for Candi to be alone. Dad works late sometimes. But, you also know just what will happen if Dad does come home while she's there alone.


>I'm going to stay after school
>I'll come home now
>Write in

>>6210361
>Write in
Ask Miss Ellen if it's cool that Candi sticks around with us and if she'll drop us off at our mailbox after school.

>>6210408
i like it, support.

>>6210408
>Support

>>6210408
>>6210589
>>6210590

Writing

You hatch a scheme. "Miss Ellen, would it be alright if my sister stayed too? Maybe you can drop us off after school?"

Miss Ellen looks caught off guard, her eyes darting between you and Candi, who also looks surprised, but doesn't object at least. "Well…Kyle, I'm not sure. We're not really supposed to–"

You fix her with a stare, a stare that says "this is how you can really help me."

She stares back for a moment and then relents. "Well…alright. That's fine with me. Candace?"

"Sure," Candi says, looking at you. Her face is mostly unreadable but you think it's gratitude.

"Maybe you can spend this time catching up on schoolwork," Miss Ellen suggests to her.

Candi stiffens slightly. "Uh, sure. Sounds good." She's a little touchy about her grades. Namely because she got held back last year. Straight A student down to Ds and Fs. It's the reason you're both seniors now even though she's a year older than you.

Miss Ellen leads you both away from the bustling hall and into the music room.

Roselake is many things, but poor isn't among them. Granted, all the money comes from the town and the lakefront, but the result is a pretty nice school all things considered. The music room is extensive. There's a recording booth, an array of instruments available for use and professional grade mixing software. Most of it is used by various school clubs and things, but you take full advantage.

Candi tosses her bag into a chair by the door and pulls out a thick book. House of Leaves. She flips it open and starts reading. Not exactly school work but who cares?

You and Miss Ellen have a comfortable routine here. She sits at the teacher's desk and you power on everything you think you'll use and finally hook your MP3 player to the speakers. You give your sister a nervous glance but she pretends to be focused on her book. You're a little self conscious doing this in front of her. She's never really expressed any interest in your music. Oh well.

"This is it," you say, pressing play.

Miss Ellen is a far less active listener than Annie. She actually looks deadly serious as the song plays out, her fingers interlaced as she leans back in the chair. You're reminded of some tough as nails music producer or something, maybe some psycho like Phil Spector. You doubt she's going to pull a gun on you if you reject her advice though.

When it ends her facade breaks and she gives you a friendly smile. "It's good."

Candi says nothing, just keeps reading.

"You think so?"

"Absolutely. Nice samples too. Sort of reminds me of Rob Zombie. It has that energy."

It's weird hearing Miss Ellen say "Rob Zombie" and weirder that she knows what kind of energy that music has, but you assume she's just knowledgeable about these things.

"I think it could really benefit from some more layering. The sound is a little flat right now. Maybe you can find some subtle things to add to give it more depth. Be creative!" What a teacherly thing to say.

"Yeah, okay." You appreciate the honest feedback though. Annie is as uncritical as they come so it's good to have someone help you improve.

"What did you think, Candace?" Ellen asks, her voice a little firm, her eyes on Candi's book disapprovingly.

"Oh, it was neat," Candi says. She seems distracted by something and it's not her book.

"While Kyle's working on his song I really think you could use this time to study up," Miss Ellen presses.

You give your sister a look, willing her to do what Miss Ellen is saying. If she rocks the boat then she's going to ruin this for both of you.

Candi catches your eye and closes House of Leaves expressionlessly. "Sure." She pulls out a textbook and notepad and lets out a silent sight before working.

Miss Ellen seems satisfied with this and so you set to work. It's amazing how different your music sounds through studio-quality headphones. You're picking up on things you never could have made out on your crap ass dollar tree earbuds. You hear what Miss Ellen means about the flatness of the sound now. It's frontloaded with bass and it feels like everything is mushed together. Maybe you could add a subtle guitar riff or something…

You pick up a guitar and get into the booth before plugging it up and turning on the monitors. You're self-taught with the guitar and thus, not really that great, but you're adequate. You play by ear, noodling around a little until you find something you like. Then you layer on some distortion and start playing.

Time melts by ceaselessly. When you're in the zone like this it's like you're outside of yourself. You really feel that this is good. Look at you now, daydreaming about record deals and number one singles. Just imagine what your VH1 "Behind the music" episode will be like. What does a burnt out Kyle Mercer look like? I'm certainly excited to find out!

"What do you think of this?" you say finally, playing the new track for Miss Ellen.

The glint in her eyes is reward enough. Her lips part in surprise and then she's bobbing along subtly. It's still weird to see your teacher actually enjoying your music.

"I think you're on to something here," she says finally. "If I were you I would sleep on it, revisit it fresh and see what else can be done."

Candi is watching you as she pretends to work. What's her deal anyway? She's way more subdued than she was this morning. She's being weird about being here but you have no idea why. With her it's fucking impossible to tell. Oh, Miss Ellen is waiting on a response.

"Good idea," you say. You realize it's getting dark outside. You glance at the clock over the door and your heart sinks as you see that it's time to go. "I think I'd better get home though."

She follows your gaze and sees the time. "Oh! Shoot. You're right. Alright, if you're both ready, let's go."

Candi closes the notebook she'd been pretending to write in for the last hour or so and slides it back into her backpack.

You all leave the school and come to stand at the bus pickup area. It's deserted. No Chip, no asshole gang.

"You two wait here and I'll bring my car around," Miss Ellen says. She looks more nervous than you feel, glancing around before walking off toward the teacher's parking lot. You guess she could probably get into a lot of trouble for doing this. You wish she knew how much you appreciate it.

"So that's what you do after school?" Candi asks.

"Pretty much."

"I thought maybe you just motor boated Miss Ellen in a janitor's closet for a couple hours." Candi says this with sadistic flee.

You make a sound of disgust. "You're so…"

"So?" Candi grins devilishly.

"So fucking weird."

"You like it," she says, prodding your ribs again. At least this time there's no one to see.

"Ugh. Quit."

She laughs. A minute of silence passes. "It was pretty good," she says. "Your music I mean."

"You think?"

She nods but doesn't seem very interested, looking toward the parking lot, wondering what's taking Miss Ellen so long. She pulls her coat tighter.


>So … I kissed Annie today
>You didn't have to be a bitch to Miss Ellen
>You should stay after school with me more often
>Write in

>>6210610
>So … I kissed Annie today

Ms. E is pretty cool. Too bad she'll never be Mrs. E. Getting your soul's back blown out because your boss is a cult leader really sucks for the dating market. And Kyle is obviously spoken for so he can't help.

>>6210610
Damn, I really don't know what to say
Also she's reading the schizo book, that's not fun
Since the other anon went for it and I think it's a funny way to go, I'll do it
>So ... I kissed Annie today

>>6210613
>>6210622
Kyle kissed a girl. And he LIKED IT. kek

>>6210610
>>You didn't have to be a bitch to Miss Ellen

>>6210610
>>So … I kissed Annie today

>>6210610
>>So … I kissed Annie today

>So … I kissed Annie today
Writing

>>6210622
>the schizo book
She's fortifying her mind with arcane wisdom.

>>6210617
>Too bad she'll never be Mrs. E
Never say Never

>Kyle is obviously spoken for
Family doesn't count

>>6210736
Between Annie and Ms Ellen who would be more accepting of the whole incest, serial killing, human sacrifice occult power thing. Or perhaps it's a matter of who has the bigger guilt towards Kyle to balance it out, but it would have to be a pretty big guilt.

>>6210736
>Family doesn't count
I think Kyle and Candi will beg to differ.

"I kissed Annie today," you say, desperately trying not to grin like a retard.

Candi doesn't react. At first. Finally she turns at the waist, cocking her head and giving you a confused look. "You kissed Annie?" Sounds like she can't believe her ears.

"Yeah," you say. "At lunch."

Candi blinks. "Wow," she says. "And she kissed you back?"

"Ha ha, very funny. Yes. Obviously."

"Obviously," Candi repeats. "So how'd that go?"

"Good," you say, unable to stop yourself from grinning. "Really good."

Candi doesn't say anything but you don't notice. You're dreaming of Escape.

"That's good," Candi says finally. "Hopefully she doesn't notice what a spaz you are. Maybe if you play your cards right you'll confirm if she stuffs her bra or not."

You give your sister a playful shove and she shoves you back, laughing.

You see a flash of headlights, Miss Ellen coming this way.

"I'm happy for you," she says, watching the car approach. "I know you've wanted this a long time." Your sister gives you a sidelong glance. "Just…be good to her. Don't fuck it up."

Her unexpectedly serious response catches you off guard. "Yeah," you manage to say.

Miss Ellen pulls up and you both climb into the back seat. Her car is an older beater, it's a little dirty inside but not disgusting. She glances in her rear view mirror and sees you judging her car. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's fine," you say. "Cleaner than our car."

Candi says nothing, she's back in her book, losing herself in the labyrinth of words.

You give Miss Ellen your address and she drives slowly and carefully out of town and into the countryside. You ride in silence, feeling a growing anxiety that Dad will be there, that there will be some kind of confrontation with Miss Ellen. Your relief is nearly endless when you see only the pickup at home. No Eagle. Long day at the mill, you guess.

"You can just drop us off at the mailbox," you say, not keen to have Miss Ellen see your house any closer than she has to. Poverty is a little embarrassing.

"Sure," she says, parking carefully beside it.

Candi gets out without a word.

"Thanks for driving us," you say. "And…for the help with the music."

She smiles at you in the rear view mirror. It's tense. Sad. "Of course."

"Bye." You get out and close the door. A moment later she turns around and sets off down the road. You watch her go.

Candi starts up the driveway without a backward glance. She's no more excited to be here than you are but she seems resigned to fate. You turn to follow after her, walking alongside a thick stand of pines to your left.

"Stayed late at daycare, Mercer?" Chip asks.

You almost don't believe it but the sight of Chip and his grinning posse of goons emerging from the pines by the roadside freezes your blood. He came here for you. He waited. He's grinning like a maniac, the bruise around his eye now unmistakable. His revenge, you realize, wasn't going to be so easily forgotten.

Candi turns around, staring in shock at these interlopers.

For a moment no one moves.

You see that Allan is holding a baseball bat and Jeff has a pocket knife. The blade glints in the dark, shining like Chip's eyes. "Trying to protect your little girlfriend from me was very cute," Chip says. They fan out and advance like wolves, making a semi circle around you. "When are you gonna learn that anything I want, I can have," Chip says, "and anything you have I can take away?"

You don't answer. Your heart races with fear and anger.

Chip points toward you like an item on a menu. "Get him."

Behind you you hear Candi turn and run, kicking gravel as she flees for the house. You take a half step back and the wolves descend on you.

xxx

Roll 1d6
I need three rolls looking for 4, 5, or 6.

You need two to pass.

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>6210768

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>6210768
KYLE IS STRONG

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>6210768

>1
>5
>1

Writing

File: gif.gif (5.95 MB, 498x275)

5.95 MB GIF

>>6210792

They close in fast, eyes gleaming with malign hunger. You backpedal, trying to keep everyone in sight at once, but of course you don't stand a chance. Outnumbered. Outmatched.

Allan reaches you first and swings the bat at you.

You raise a hand automatically and feel pain lance through your wrist as you deflect it. You grit your teeth and stumble.

Ken attacks from your other side,grabbing your arm in a vice grip and pulling hard, throwing you off balance. Then a fist finds your ribs again and you double over. The bat comes down on your shoulder and you cry out.

"Get his ass!" Some calls as you're showered with fists and kicks.

You try to curl up but Ken grabs your arms and someone else your legs, preventing you from defending yourself. Eventually you're lying on your back helplessly, looking up at Chip sneering down at you. There's a dangerous look on his face, a man pushed too far. A man who doesn't have any fear of consequences. "You don't learn quick, do you, Mercer?"

"Fuck you," you snarl, fighting fear.

He kicks you in the face. You turn away at the last minute so he doesn't break anything but it leaves your right ear ringing. A second kick catches you in the hip and you twist away. Then the bat comes down on your kneecap and you howl, writhing in pain, struggling in Ken's grip.

"God you're pathetic, Mercer. Pathetic," Chip says as he kicks you again. You hardly feel this one. Hot pain still radiates from your kneecap. You hope nothing is broken.

You manage to open your eyes and see Jeff hand Chip the knife. He kneels down beside you, holding it close to your face. "You know," Chip says. "I don't think anyone will miss you when you're gone." He moves the knife down until you feel cold metal on your skin. Your jugular vein pulses against the blade. "People like you," he says, "Just tend to disappear."

And this is how you die.

"Get back!" Candi shouts, shrill, terrified. Pissed.

"Oh fuck," Jeff says.

Everyone recoils slightly, releasing your arms and legs and taking half steps back.

Chip looks up too, the knife withdrawing from your neck.

You crane your head back and see Candi walking down the driveway toward you, shotgun leveled toward them, her eyes flashing hate and fear. "Get up and get the fuck away form him," she snarls.

Chip and the others oblige her, backing away.

"Get up, Kyle," she says, glancing at you, worried.

You sit up with a groan, feeling pain all over your body. You bend your knee and grimace, struggling as you put weight on it slowly. You're relieved that it supports you and you get to your feet, staggering back.

Candi continues forward until she's standing beside you, shotgun pointed at Chip still. "Now get out of here before I fucking kill you." She's trembling, her whole body shaking. The barrel of the shotgun wavers slightly.

"Cute," Chip says, his hands out to his sides, knife still in his right hand. "Very cute. Why don't you just relax a little bit? That gun's bigger than you are. I don't think you really want to use it."

Candi says nothing.

Chip takes a step forward. "I'll tell you what, I won't even cut him up. You can just owe me one, huh?" He takes another step forward and the gun roars.

You jump at the sound, your hearing snuffed out for a moment.

Chip gawks in surprise and his goons duck reflexively as Candi fires a barrel over their heads.

You see Allan mouth, "Holy fuck!"

Candi takes another step forward and takes aim at Chip. "I'm not afraid to go to jail," she says. "Now get the fuck out of here or I'm gonna bury you here."

The gang backs up again, some a little more enthusiastically than others.

"You won't always be there," Chip tells Candi. "You can't watch the baby all the time."

She says nothing.

Finally Chip turns and walks off, following his guys back down the driveway and onto the road and out of sight.

You relax slightly, feeling pain all over.

"Kyle!" Candi drops the shotgun to the gravel and throws her arms around you, pressing her face to your chest. "God, are you okay? Oh my God, I thought they were going to kill you!" She's crying. Tears running down her cheeks.

You grimace as she presses against your ribs but you put an arm around her shoulder. "I'm okay. I'm okay. It's alright."

Your sister starts to sob and you hold her tight. Her mask had been starting to slip there at the end. For all her bravery, for all her talk of going to jail, the truth is that you know Candi couldn't kill anyone. She's like you in that way.

After a minute she sniffles and wipes her nose with her hand, releasing the hug. "Come on," she says. "Let's get you inside." She stoops down and picks up the shotgun she drapes your arm over her shoulder and helps you limp toward the house. Once inside she breaks open the shotgun after a little struggling and fishes out the spent shell, reloads it and puts it back on the rack in the dining room.

"What the hell was that?" Mom asks from the kitchen. "Were you shooting?"

"Saw a deer," you lie. "Thought maybe we could get some venison."

She doesn't answer.

Candi returns to you, brushing your hair back from your face and holding your cheeks. She looks you over, frowning. Apparently you don't look good.

"Come on, I'll take care of you," she says.


>I'll be okay. It's not so bad.
>Go upstairs with her
>Write in

>>6210832
>>Go upstairs with her

>>6210832
>>Go upstairs with her

>>6210832
>Go upstairs with her

The seed of guilt is planted.

>>6210832
>Go upstairs with her

>>6210832
>Go upstairs with her

>Go upstairs with her

Writing

You're far too weak and far too tired to resist. Candi leads you upstairs slowly since you have to favor your uninjured leg. The burning ache in your knee is now just a dull, pulsing throb. It feels…okay. Until you bend it. Then it really fucking hurts.

Candi closes the bedroom door behind you. She slips your coat off and tosses it to the floor. "Arms up."

You raise them and grimace at the pain in your ribs and wrist. She pulls your shirt over your head awkwardly.

"Pants."

You hesitate but then remember that she's your sister. You unbutton your jeans and slide them down, grateful that your sister didn't take them off for you.

Candi helps you sit on the lower bunk and then lays you down. She makes a soft noise of dismay as she looks you over. "God…" She traces a fingertip near your ribs and you groan. She hardens her expression and presses a little more firmly around the area.

You grit your teeth against the pain.

"I don't think it's broken," she says.

A small relief. Asking Mom to take you to the hospital would not be good. God only knows what she would do. What Dad would do. Candi checks your knee next. "Poor thing…" Her hands run across your thigh. It feels weird. "Let me get some ice." She stands and leaves you alone with your thoughts.

Dad is going to kill you. He's going to absolutely kill you. There's no way he doesn't decide to teach you another lesson tonight. He's going to be doubly pissed when he gets home. He's always really weird after late nights at the mill. Fuck.

You whimper softly and feel tears coming. This makes you angry. You clench a fist. Hard. You swallow and determine not to cry. Not again. You hate being weak.

Candi returns a minute later with a baggie of ice and a damp washcloth. She rests it on your knee and another whimper escapes your lips. "I"m sorry…" she says, brushing her fingernails over your cheek. "Here." She lifts your head and sits down, laying your head down on her lap, cradled by her thighs. "Comfy?"

You nod slightly. This is really weird though. Having Candi staring at your semi-naked body doesn't make it less weird. You squeeze your eyes closed and just focus on your pain. "Thanks," you say finally.

"For what?"

'For what' she says. Unbelievable.

"You came after me, chased Chip off." You stare up at the top bunk. "No one else would have done that."

"You would have done it for me," Candi says.

"Yeah." You would. You've taken enough beatings for her that you would shoot an asshole like Chip in a heartbeat. That's what makes this twice as painful, the fact that she had to protect you.

"You can always count on me, Kyle," Candi says, voice soft. She's still stroking your cheek. "I'll always be here for you."

"I'll always be here for you too," you murmur. The ice on your knee is numbing away the pain and now you feel exhaustion starting to creep over you. You fall asleep on your sister's lap only to be awoken an hour later with the throaty purr of a V6. The Eagle is here.

You feel Candi stiffen too.

Shadows dance through your room, thrown by the Eagle's headlights as it growls to a stop outside the house before idling for a minute. Two minutes. Five. Finally it stops and the lights go out.

Dad is home.

You sit up and start dressing. Your knee is red, swollen with a huge knot. Putting on your jeans is a struggle but you manage. Once you're dressed you sit in the dark and the silence. Candi sits beside you. Neither of you moves and neither of you speaks.

You hear Dad downstairs, the floorboards creaking beneath his boots. He stops at the bottom of the stairs. Waits.

Your heart beats hard in your ears.

He moves on finally, continuing into the kitchen.

You relax but only slightly. You know what comes next.

Dinner time.

You can smell food but it only makes you feel queasy with fear. Dad is going to see you and he's not going to like it when he does.

Candi reaches over and takes your hand. Her fingers are ice cold. You lace your fingers through hers and give her hand a reassuring squeeze before glancing over at her. She looks terrified. You know you look terrified too. But you know better than to keep Dad waiting. Stiffly, numbly, you get up and open the bedroom door before letting go of your sister's hand and going downstairs.

Dad is seated at the kitchen table, framed by the doorway. Tall, powerful, stony. He's sitting straight as a piece of rebar, staring dead ahead, arms at his sides, hands resting lightly on the table. His hair is light like yours but cut short, eyes pale. He looks so much like you. A bit like your sister. His carhartt jacket and trucker cap seem normal enough but all it takes is one look at those staring eyes to realize that there's something very wrong about him. You avoid looking at Dad's face when you can help it. It only makes you more afraid. His eyes follow you as you move across the kitchen and take a seat, trying not to limp.

Candi sits opposite you, eyes down.

Dad is still staring at you but you don't look back. You're trying not to shake or sweat.

Mom is serving pork chops and mashed potatoes hurriedly.

"What's the matter with you, boy?" Dad asks. There's a darkness to his voice. Something cold, like a damp breeze blowing from an endless void.


>Nothing
>I got into a fight
>I just feel a little sick
>Write in

>>6210958
>I got into a fight
No use dancing around it

If he gets mad about his kid getting the shit kicked out of him it's his fault. He taught his boy how to get hit, not how to fight. Of course demons wouldn't understand that. Cause they are dumb.

>>6210958
>>I got into a fight

>>6210958
>I got into a fight

>>6210980
>>6210982
I saw that.

>>6210832
Candi carried, can't believe Chip was actually gonna fuckin kill us

>>6210958
The highly anticipated Dad encounter is finally here. A damp breeze huh... couldn't be a dry woody one, of course.
>I got into a fight

>>6211003
>can't believe Chip was actually gonna fuckin kill us
I can't wait to remove his vertebrae one by one.

>>6210958

>Write in
"What kind of people were Grandpa and Grandma?"
Time to try and divert attention? Learn more of our family history?

Dad and Chip each have a bit of that evil Lake Thing spirit in them me thinks

>There's a darkness to his voice. Something cold, like a damp breeze blowing from an endless void.

>>6210984
fuck

>I got into a fight
Writing

It will be worse if you lie. Somehow he'll know. He always does. You opt to tell the truth, but you're too scared to meet his eyes.

"Got into a fight."

"Looks like you got your ass beat," Dad says. His tone is almost neutral. Almost. You can't miss the hint of amusement. "Who?"

You grit your teeth hard as Mom lays a plate out in front of you and takes her seat. "Chip."

"Chip Truesdale," Dad says. Not a question.

"Pass the gravy, Dad?" Candi says. Her voice is light, calm, almost carefree. She hides herself so much better than you do.

Dad pushes the gravy boat across the table toward her but doesn't look away from you. He's fixed unblinkingly on you. It's like he's daring you to look at him. Waiting until you see what's crawling behind his eyes. Waiting to sink those needle teeth into you and swallow you whole.

"Yeah." Your head aches. You stab at your porkchop idly, afraid Dad might accuse you of wasting food.

"Chip's a Worm," Dad says. He shows you all his teeth but you still don't look. "A Worm."

"I know," you say quietly.

"Thought I raised you strong."

You don't know what to say. All the answers are wrong. You're starting to tremble. Your knife rattles on the plate as you lay it down.

"Thought I raised you strong." He says it again, tone exactly the same, like a machine waiting for a response. You can't slip away from it.

"There w-were five of them." Fuck, your voice wavered.

"Bigger than you?" He seems to be leaning toward you, drawing silently closer.

"Y-yeah." You're sweating.

"Stronger than you."

Mom saws through her porkchop and takes a bite. You glance up at her. You can't help it. She's your mother. You know she won't help you but biology demands you look to your mother for safety. She stares back at you a moment blankly before taking a bite of her porkchop and looking away.

"Dad…" you say, throat tightening. You struggle to swallow.

"I think we got work to do in the barn tonight," Dad says.

No. Oh God no. You feel his fist cracking against your skull. His cigarette burning holes in your skin. You can barely walk, barely stand. You already feel like puking. What are you going to do if you puke in the barn? What is Dad going to do if you puke in the barn? Begging is useless. But you can't help it. What else can you do?

"Dad," you say again, trying not to stammer.

"I thought we were gonna do stuff tonight, Dad," Candi says, her voice almost pouty.

No! You look up sharply but your sister is smiling at Dad. All you see is her mask. The fear and revulsion in her eyes is hidden away, buried deep. Even Dad won't be able to see it. You tell your sister to shut up. You tell her that you can take it. You tell her that you can take it!

You tell Dad that you're not scared of him, God Dammit!

But…you and I both know that you don't do that.

Dad's head pivots slow and smooth from right to left, turning to regard Candi with that cold, awful gaze.

You stare down at the meat on your plate and want to scream.

"That so?" Dad asks.

Candi shrugs but somehow looks him in the eyes and doesn't turn away. You don't know how she can stare into the abyss without flinching. "Yeah."

Mom flashes a dirty look at Candi, jaw tensing. She chews hard but doesn't say anything.

Dad's grin spreads across his face slow and smooth like an uncoiling snake. "We can do that."

You could intercede now. You could make a scene or challenge Dad or do anything. Anything to get his attention back on you. Only you don't do that because you're too scared. You can't do it or you'll finally break.

Dad wolfs his porkchop down. You hear his teeth grind on the bone. He doesn't touch the mashed potatoes. He stares at his daughter as he eats.

Candi eats too but does so like a human being. She risks the occasional glance up at you. She doesn't show you any fear. She wants you to see that she's strong. That she can do this. For you.

After dinner Dad leaves the house, following behind Candi. She doesn't look back.

Mom pretends not to care and starts cleaning up.

You go upstairs feeling as numb as your knee. Laying on the bed you stare at Candi's empty bunk and try not to think about what Dad is doing to your sister right now. You think instead about how much you hate yourself. About how weak you are. About how frail and useless you are. How much of a Worm you are.

You even allow yourself to think about what it might feel like to push a knife through Dad's skin and into his heart.

An eternity later you hear the shower start downstairs and Dad's heavy footsteps moving to his room. The door closes. At least it's over.

You relax a little and then hate yourself anew for relaxing. Your sister shouldn't have to protect you. One day…one day…

The bedroom door opens and Candi stands silhouetted by the light wearing her sleep shirt. She closes the door behind her and your eyes adjust to the dark. You can tell she's been crying.

She sits down on the bed with you but doesn't touch you. She stays as far from you as she can get. You know better than to try to touch her right now. Instead you both just stare at each other.

She smiles at you. She tries to smile at you. She fails to smile convincingly at you. Her mask is shattered into a million jagged porcelain pieces and she can't keep it on anymore. Her tears glitter in the dark as they run down her cheeks but she wipes them away quickly.

"Candi," you whisper. "This is so fucked up. I can't live like this…next time…next time I'm going to do something." Next time you just might.

Her sadness becomes shock, then fear. "No," she says. "No, Kyle…" she drops her voice further, barely a whisper at all now. "he'll kill you."

You almost say "Let him". You're numb to it all. Surely it would be better dying trying to stop evil than lying here suffering from it. But if he killed you then Candi would really be all alone. Without you… You want to go to her, hug her tight, stroke her hair, tell her that it's all over. But you can't. It's not over. Not yet. "I wish I could protect you," you say meaning it with every part of your being. No price would be too great for that.

Something changes in Candi's expression. Without her mask you can read her clearly and what you see confuses you. She's thinking, thinking hard. Something has occurred to her, something she isn't sure about. "Here." She hops off the bed and goes to her dresser, digging in her underwear drawer to pull out her butterfly knife. The gemstones on it glitter in the dark. She flips the blade open with a practiced twirl and sits down beside you. "Let me see your arm."

She's going to cut you. That's obvious. The question is 'why.' It's a question you don't need to ask. You'd do anything for your sister. You hold your arm out and she grips your wrist tight enough to hold you still, but not so tight that you couldn't pull away if you wanted to. She presses the blade against your inner forearm. She hesitates, looks into your eyes. "It will make you stronger," Candi says.

The same thing Dad tells you. Only with Candi…you believe her. You trust her. You nod before you can have any second thoughts.

For the first time–but far from the last–your sister cuts into you. Her knife digs into soft flesh, trailing fire between circular burn scars. She makes one line, then two, then three all linked. A triangle.

It hurts. It hurts really bad. But you don't make a sound. Candi is in enough pain that you don't need to make her feel worse. Your hand trembles slightly and blood drips down onto your sheets. Candi grabs a paper towel from beside her dresser and blots at the bloody symbol. "A mark of power," she says. "A mark of protection." She sounds insane. Not her tone, her words. What's weirdest about it is that she sounds hopeful, like it might work. "It will make you stronger," she affirms. "And then…" she smiles at you again. It's sad. "And then when you're strong enough you can protect me." She leans down, still holding your wrist, and lays a soft kiss in the middle of the triangle. Her lips on your skin feel so much like Annie's. Soft, inviting. She sits back up and lets go of your arm.


>You should get some sleep
>Let me hold you
>Tonight let's go to the woods again, like we used to
>Write in

>>6211067
Fuck man, you're not supposed to spark emotion in me, what the fuck
>...Thank you, Candi...
And when she goes to sleep, maybe we can take a walk in the woods to just think

Man. These kids are dumb. All this mumbo jumbo voodoo poodoo when all they really needed was a touch of sociopathy or psychopathy. Don't need a magic symbol to make your strong, just a lack of scruples and a shotgun. Ah youth. The time of making bad decisions which totally never come back to haunt you.

>>6211080
True actually, if we just executed Dad we wouldn't have half the problems we do now (except for maybe the smiley face gang). Back in my day, we'd just go schizo sociopath mode instead, no devil-shit required, kids these days are soft
Now I want some pork chops and mashed potatoes

>>6211083
BACK IN MY DAY WE JUST GREW UP TO BE WIFE-BEATERS AND RACISTS. These damn kids. NURSE WHERE'S MY PUDDIN'?! lmao Real shit though. BIG OUCH that Kyle and Candi were so thoroughly beaten that they hadn't even considered just blasting pops. Probably doesn't even cross their minds that he -can- be killed. Shit's dark.

>>6211067
>>Let me hold you

>>6211067
>Let me hold you

>>6211077
Supporting

She just got sexually assaulted why would Kyle touch her.

>>6211067
>...Thank you, Candi...

Just carving out her little brother's soul. Whoops.

>>6211067
>Tonight let's go to the woods again, like we used to

>>6211246
While I would normally agree, I think Candi might be receptive to him. She seems to see him as an actual source of comfort, and she literally just carved into him to protect him so he could protect her.

Update will come later today. Sorry for the delay.

Write in
>>6211077
>>6211246
>>6211270

Writing

>>6211077
>spark emotion in me
No mercy will be shown. We're here to feel.

>>6211385
>We're here to feel.
Bologna. I am here to point and laugh at people in retrospect and act like I knew better the entire time.

You're afraid you're going to cry for a minute and it has nothing to do with the burn in your arm from Candi's glyph. You swallow a couple times to make sure you can speak without breaking. "Thank you, Candi," you say finally.

Your sister looks confused. "For what?"

You shake your head. "For everything."

She slides closer to you. "Kyle, I should be thanking you." She looks at the carving in your arm and brushes her fingers lightly on the uncut skin around it. "You're so strong and brave…I don't know what I'd do without you. I…I couldn't do any of this alone."

You both lapse to silence.

"I'm…going to get some sleep," Candi says, standing up. "Long day."

"Yeah."

A pause. "Night."


"Night," you say, watching your sister climb quickly back up to the top bunk. The structure shakes slightly as she lays down. Soon you hear her soft, steady breathing as she falls asleep. You don't feel much like sleeping. After another minute or so you slide out of bed, grab your coat, and go downstairs.

The TV in the living room is running.

"Can we dig a little deeper? Can we get a little more? Every dollar you give goes straight to God's ministry here on earth, hallelujah!"

It smells like skunky weed down here. Mom.

She sits alone on the couch, smoking a joint and staring at the TV with dead eyes. She doesn't notice you. You sneak out the back door and then you're free. Well, free for now. The dark and cold around the house is conducive to being alone, to thinking. Each step is painful because of your leg, your whole body protests, but you force yourself to move. Slow and steady. You think it should help prevent you from being too stiff tomorrow. No idea if that's true, but fuck it.

You steer well clear of the barn and walk past the shed, skimming the edge of the woods. They're foreboding, hiding secrets. Always more Candi's thing than yours, but you used to have a great time playing with her out there when you were kids. It was home to a lot of memories.

So how did it end up like this?

No, you're asking yourself the wrong question. The real question is: how much more can you take?

When you can hardly keep awake any more you sneak back into the house. Mom is unconscious on the couch. You sneak a little closer and pluck a couple un-smoked joints from the ashtray and then slide off back upstairs. You stash the weed along with your porn under the bed and then curl up and fall asleep.

Tomorrow is Saturday. This is a mercy seeing as how you hurt all over and can barely move. It's early, the sun isn't up yet. It's going to be a time of rest but…something tells you it won't be all restful. You look at the healed cut on your arm, a triangle painted in your own scabbed blood. If you're going to be strong, strong enough to protect Candi, then you're going to need more of that. A lot more. You can do that tonight.

Dad has taken what he wants from the two of you, that should satisfy him for a couple days. Hopefully.

Aside from Candi's ritual, how are you going to spend your weekend?


>Hang out with Candi
>Hang out with Ralphie
>Alone
>Write in

>>6211395
Sadistic glee and smug condescension are feelings too, Anon. We don't discriminate. The only feeling that isn't allowed is genuine happiness.

>>6211403
>>Alone

>>6211403
>>Alone

>>6211403
>>Alone
ALONE

>>6211403
>Alone

>>6211421
>>6211426
>>6211445
>>6211511
Alone, writing

Hopeless. That's what you really are, right? Hopeless. You lay in bed, feeling your body healing slowly, painfully. You don't really think Candi can cut you stronger. Obviously it does nothing.

But she believes. It gives her hope that her brother can be made into more than what he is. More than a Worm. If all it does is make her feel better then you will lie here and suffer for her until you can't anymore.

The sun rises and you play on your computer a little. You catch up on school work and email Mr. Cook.

When Candi finally gets out of bed you pretend not to watch her dress. She seems okay. Better. You guess she's used to it by now. She opens her dresser, takes out a burned, ratty journal and leaves.

Unable to help yourself, you go to the window and watch as she bee lines into the woods. Your sister stops at the edge of the pines and stares up at them. Finally she looks back towards the house but you know she can't see you. Then she forgets ahead into the woods.

You return to bed and sit. Eventually you go down and eat. Dad takes the Eagle and leaves. You don't ask where and he doesn't tell you. Mom ignores you.

At nightfall Candi comes back home. "Ready?" She asks. She sounds nervous.

"Yeah."

"I want to do your chest."

You take off your shirt and lay down on the bed.

Your sister straddles you and flips her knife open. Something about that smooth, confident movement does something for you. Or maybe it's the pressure of her weight on your crotch. That's just biological though. It's involuntary. You stare up at the bunk and hope she doesn't notice.

The knife finds your chest and she sets to work.

Pain. Somehow, no matter how much you experience it never gets easier. Every time feels like the first time.

Candi cuts and blots away the blood, glancing at your face from time to time, judging how much it hurts. You hide it. You try to hide it.

"We can stop," Candi says finally, but there's disappointment in her voice.

"No. Keep going."

She does, adjusting position and leaning over you to keep cutting. Only when you start shaking in pain does she stop. "Jesus, Kyle. Say something sooner…" there's deep concern in her voice as she cleans you up.

"I want to be stronger," you say. There's nothing else to it.

Candi gets off of you and you sit up, a new hashing of marks across your chest. It burns. A bead of crimson runs down you and your sister watches it. "You will." You hear uncertainty in her voice. A long pause. "Let's bandage you up."

Sunday is the same. You rest by day and suffer by night. At least you can walk without limping.

Monday is school. At least you have something to look forward to. Except Annie doesn't ride the bus.

You sit with Ralphie and chat, but your mind is elsewhere. Had you done something? Had you not done something? Maybe her dad just dropped her off. Probably fine.

Except it's not. It's absolutely not fine.

You see Annie sitting on the hood of Chip's car when you get off the bus. She's laughing and listening to him and his friends talk.

You feel…nothing good. Nothing good at all. You find yourself staring in shock at this horrible sight.

Finally Chip catches your eye and smiles at you, looping an arm over Annie's shoulders. She looks at him and then looks where he's looking. Her smile falters when she sees you standing and staring. Hurt flashes across her features but you've seen enough. You turn and go into school.

It's a blur. Nothing registers. The last spark of hope you had was completely extinguished. You want to be alone. Somehow at lunch you end up in the empty science classroom. Your and Annie's place. Just your place now.

You sit and stare out the window at trees and grass beyond. Everything hurts for you.

The soft opening of the door is as loud as a gunshot.

"Kyle?" Annie comes in, looking for you. She seems startled when she sees you. "Kyle I…" the door closes behind her. She doesn't come closer. "I came to tell you…that I'm sorry."

You don't say anything.

She takes a step closer to you, fidgeting her hands nervously, unable to look at you. "I didn't want to hurt you or anything. I didn't want it to go like this but…" she trails off.

You remain silent. Only you can't. You can't remain silent. Not this time. This time you speak.


>Fuck you
>Why, Annie?
>Write in

>>6211605
>Why?
When she finishes her excuses:
>Fuck you

The only possible ending of a simping arc. Wonder where this is going and how it'll transition back to the present.

>>6211605
>>6211608
Supporting.

So something obviously happened after Kyle’s run in with Chip on Friday. Annie’s dating Chip because he’s threatened to kill Kyle, or she’s brainwashed or she’s been promised to him in a lake cult ritual or some other bs. Annie mentioned last thread things not turning out how she wanted, wonder how she dances around what actually happened here.

>>6211608
>supporting.
She's gonna bs us.

>>6211608
>>6211615
>>6211621

Writing

"Why," you say, voice cold. "How could you do this to me?"

She tenses, looks troubled. "I-I don't know…I just…I wanted it and…" she rubs her arm and struggles for words. "But this isn't what I wanted." She stammers for a second. "It…Kyle it doesn't feel real." She shakes her head. "It feels like…like a dream." She finally meets your eyes. You're surprised to see fear in them, someone who needs help. "It feels like a dream I can't wake up from…"

Your knee hurts. Your wrist hurts. Your scars hurt. You don't know what the fuck she's talking about or why it should be your problem. You've had enough.

"Fuck you."

Annie is shocked.

It feels good to see her shocked. It fuels your anger.

"Fuck you, you stupid bitch," you growl, taking a step closer.

"K-Kyle, I-"

"You were right about people's true selves. People change. Look at your fucking self. You arrogant, selfish, spoiled, stuck up cunt."

A tear runs down her cheek but she doesn't blink, just stares at you slack jawed. She was your best friend. She was the girl you wanted to spend your life with. Now? She's nothing.

"Kyle…" she whispers. A plea.

You turn away from her. "Go ahead and send Chip to my house if you want. Maybe he'll kill me this time. Otherwise, don't ever talk to me again."

She hesitates and then you hear her throw open the door and hurry out.

Annie never rides the bus after that. Chip also never comes after you. You guess he got what he wanted.

When are you gonna learn that anything I want, I can have, and anything you have I can take away?

He was right, you guess.

There's no real reason for anything anymore. You become a hermit, a monk of agony. Days adrift, nights aflame. Weeks in suffering. Your world becomes one dimensional, an axis of pain.

"There." Your sister is marking your bicep. Her work has gotten more complicated. Interconnected lines and symbols. It means nothing to you but it hones you like a knife. Sharp and hard.

You say nothing.

It's dark. Candi works by moonlight, crouching beside you in an oversized T-shirt and panties. You wear only your boxers and stare up at the top bunk. You're waiting for death, you guess. There's nothing else.

Candi looks at you sympathetically, studying your face. "Kyle, what's wrong?"


>Annie left me for Chip
>You're the only reason my life is worth living
>Nothing.
>Write in

>>6211624
>"Keep cutting."

>>6211624
>>6211626
Sure, this works. I imagine Kyle would prefer to feel the pain of the knife than the pain of betrayal and heartbreak.

>>6211624
>>You're the only reason my life is worth living
Cheesy but whatever

>>6211626
>>6211624
+1

>>6211624
>Annie left me for Chip

>>6211624
Also lol the fucking Chip Lake Thing Voodoo on Annie

>>6211624
>You're the only reason my life is worth living

File: 1673550204811982.jpg (31 KB, 520x293)

31 KB JPG

>>6211664
>tfw chip whined to his daddy to do his voodoo on annie to get back at kyle
>tfw truesdale saw the hyperviolence kyle was capable of and checked him out and saw the gaping soul hole that wanted a demon
>tfw truesdale probably knew kyle's dad had a slimy lake demon in him already
>tfw truesdale helped kyle with the intent of getting a new demon slave boy
>tfw it's all connected

>>6211664
Same power we chose?

>>6211682
Ours came from The Forest Thing inside Valerie, but pretty much yeah. His is Lake Thing powered and maybe stronger? She did go like what, a whole weekend doing what he wanted presumably and didn't even think or act like anything was wrong until she saw Kyle on monday.

>>6211676
I'd buy it. Unless Chip somehow managed to do some Lake Thing Cult magic on his own or with some help. I'm wondering if Chip is thinking about overthrowing his Dad so he can have it all. There is dissent in the Cult ranks if Valerie is anything to go by. Truesdale hiding things from his son.

Maybe Kyle's dad also did some dirty jobs for Truesdale. Or even had a hand in getting a demon into Kyle's dad.

Before we get to killing Chip it would be nice to uncover the voodoo by hanging out with Annie more. Maybe bring her to Valerie, although maybe current Kyle could see it with his ability to sense tears in the Veil and do commands.